3.1 | Animal Instinct ✓

11 | growl

1 1

g r o w l

JED HAD SHIFTED back to his human form by the time I woke up. But the empty space on the couch beside me was still warm, even though I felt strangely cold without him next to me, and I knew that he'd just shifted not too long ago.

He was still a little wary ever since the day he'd almost attacked me and I knew that he was set on keeping his distance, regardless of what I'd said afterwards. It wasn't so much that he was scared of me – it was the other way round, like he was terrified that he'd actually hurt me. But my nightmares still came and I still slept on the couch. And I still found him curling up next to me every night, falling asleep to the sound of his steady, even breaths.

He was nowhere to be found now. Reluctantly, I headed upstairs to freshen up, before going back down to the kitchen. Jed was already there, in the midst of making coffee, but stopped when I entered.

It was fleeting, but I didn't miss the way he scanned the smooth expanse of my legs that were barely covered by my denim shorts. His eyes were so intense and dark that they seemed to trail a sentient heat wherever he glanced, and I couldn't stop the flutter in my chest, especially when he finally swallowed and looked away.

It seemed to have gradually occurred to him that I was aware of his staring, and his cheeks were stained with a faint blush as he busied himself with the coffee. I went round the counter and leaned against the opposite side of it, taking the cup from him when he slid it across the table-top.

"What do you want for breakfast today?" I asked, picking up the mug and nursing it between my hands as I smiled up at him. "Sandwiches? French toast?" When he shrugged, I simply took a sip of my coffee before continuing, "We can make waffles. Do you have a waffle iron?" He shot me a strange look and I laughed. "Let's check. Come on."

Setting my mug down on the counter, I stepped further into the kitchen. Jed sidled up to me when I leaned against the table to open the cupboards. He shot me a glance when he noticed that I was having trouble reaching the upper shelves. I looked at him and smiled, easing back and letting him reach for the bowls inside, pulling out a blender and a baking bowl along the way.

"See it anywhere? It's either circular or rectangular, with a handle to tip open the lid – " I tipped back on my heels, shifting away slightly when he set down another empty bowl. He reached up again, and I couldn't help but let my eyes linger when his jacket rode up. His jeans were hanging low on his hips, and my eyes lazily traced the curve of his hipbone and the tanned ridges of muscles across his abdomen.

Because, you know, I figured that if he could stare at me, I didn't think he'd mind if I did the same.

But I stopped when I suddenly noticed a faint scar, curving in a painful slit just above the hemline of his jeans and dragging upwards. It was a faded white and looked plenty like Bianca's, in the sense that it was a scar which would never fade, regardless of how much time had passed. But as far as I was aware of, Jed hadn't suffered any recent injuries.

Unless –

"How'd you get that?" I blurted.

He looked mildly alarmed by my sudden question, eyes darting in confusion between the waffle iron and me.

"No, not that," I pointed to the place now hidden beneath his jacket. "There's a scar there, and it's not faded."

Confusion cleared from his expression. He lifted the hem of his jacket, and his eyes darted to me for affirmation.