Everett keeps a rapid pace, running a hand along the wall nearest him and staring intently at the spaces above and below us in search of a light switch.
"Hey, there's one." I break the awkward silence, tugging his wrist that's handcuffed to mine and pointing at a metal plate dead ahead.
"Great, we can finally get some light in this joint." Everett sighs, lunging forward and smacking the light switch to fill the room with brilliant... darkness. His face falls, and I almost feel something other than hatred for him at the sheer look of disappointment.
"Okay... guess the electric isn't working down here." I speak again, trying to get his mouth flipped into a smile. It's a lot easier to look at him with disgust when he's leering at you.
"No shit." He grumbles, hitting the switch repeatedly and in as many different ways as he possibly could. "Why won't the darned light switch turn ON!" He yells the last word, banging his handcuffed wrist against the wall, yanking me forward so my forehead slams against the wall. I pull back with a curled lip ready to bust his face in, but Everett doesn't look smug as expected, he looks... sorry. Weird.
"Sinclaire, ooh sorry." He apologizes, lifting his free hand to my face and gently prodding the portion of my face that hit the plaster.
"Wasn't your fault, you were flipping out about the light switch." I mumble, embarrassed, leaning back to avoid his touch.
Everett's expression goes guarded again. "Shut up. I was trying to make the lady more comfortable." He sneers, intentionally jerking the cuffs again and pulling me behind him. It's not fair, he's so much stronger, being a wolf at least once a month and all.
"What a gentleman." I reply tersely, following him into a long, pitch black hallway.
YOU ARE READING
Handcuffed
Short StorySinclaire Smith and Everett Walker are handcuffed to each other for an entire day. A little background? Sinclaire is from our world, a fiesty seventeen-year-old. Everett is from Avontrell, he's a werewolf and a creep. Needless to say, they hate ea...
