Sacrifice

Chapter Eleven

Sacrifice

Tones sound, and roar and storm about me until I have set them down in notes.

Ludwig van Beethoven

I slid out of his embrace. The cool air clung to my skin, shamelessly, I padded over to our scattered clothes. Tossing on my tank top loose shorts, I snuck downstairs.

My sore thighs stretched as I walked down the stairs, I chuckled, yes, he is very good at what he does.

I was afraid, to think of it. To think of us.

I don't want to think.

My mind scattered about the bowl of strawberry that rested upon my lap, I was enveloped in a strong embrace. Strong, firm arms surrounded my back, he stood behind my stool.

Chuckling, I felt the rumbles of his chest. I dare not to peek, he was still very much naked. But I peeked. Darn, boxers.

"Good morning." He mumbled against my shoulder, voice husky.

"G'morning." I muttered back, leaning against his radiance of warmth and comfort. I rested my body on his, holding a strawberry out absentmindedly for him. My eyes retraced my steps yesterday, scanning my scattered bag and pens. The miscellaneous items of clothing and paper scattered about, I sniffed the air. "It smells like outside."

"Hmm?" Jesse nipped my hands, "Yeah, it's probably me."

"No, it's not." I paused, "I don't open windows. Why does it smell like outside?"

I shrugged his arms off, trailing my hands down his arms in apology, I stood. My shoulder bag draped upon the armchair, the books stacked on the table lightly dusted with grey specs, and my pens scattered about. "I-I think someone was here." I muttered slowly.

"How do you know?"

I didn't answer, lifting the books and journals about my room, I looked for the notebook. The more I searched, the more certain I was. "It's not here. Holy fuck, I think I just lost a hundred year old prophecy book."

"You have a prophecy book? What?"

"No, I couldn't have lost it. It's not here."

"You probably did lose it."

"I didn't." I insisted, "I know I didn't."

"What's going on? Waverly." I faced his golden eyes, my arms draped about his shoulders. He gently slid my arms off, feeling dejected, I leant against his chest. Jesse pulled back, he asked again, "What's going on? Tell me."

"I-" I paused, "I have this book, of this Prince. He was a Lycan and a Seer. I think one of the prophecies is ours. So I got his notebook. I-I think someone took it."

He chuckled, pulling my limp body towards his chest, "You're crazy. It's going to be fine. I'm going to talk to my dad. Let's get this Sarah business over with. I can't deal with her anymore."

"Wait, what?" I pulled away, "And I have to find the book. Someone took it, I know it."

"No one's been here, Wave." Jesse assured me, "You're being paranoid."

"I can smell it, the door or window or whatever they used to get in brought the smell of outside." I brush aside the pens and notes inside my shoulder bag, "and plus, it would be easy to sneak in while we were, er, busy."

"I think you lost it." Oh, how I hope. "What does it look like?"

"Old, textured and dusty. About the size of this," I held up a notebook, "and leather covered brown."