Lacuna

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

This stranger staring back at me in the mirror couldn't possibly be my reflection, could it?

The skeleton in the mirror has ghostly pale skin, pulled sickeningly taut over sharp bones. Dark purple bags hang beneath lifeless blue eyes, matching the blue-purple bruises that decorate the stranger's skin which are mainly clustered around his bare hips. Cuts and burns are scattered here and there, completing the story of the torture this person must have endured.

Not being able to bear it anymore, I turn away from the atrocious reflection and step into the large shower that is already pelting out hot water.

An involuntary sigh slides from my parted lips as the hot water runs down my body. It feels like absolute heaven. Warm water wasn't something I was given with Jerard.

I waste no time in beginning to scrub myself clean. I have to get every trace of Jerard Bane and his wolves off of me. I scrub myself until my skin is red and angry looking, and then scrub some more.

By the time I step out of the shower, every inch of my skin is raw. But I haven't felt cleaner in a long time. I can acknowledge my reflection this time. I still have the cuts and bruises, and there are still bags under my eyes. But I see hope in those pale blue irises.

I take my time drying off, brushing my hair. My hair was the one thing that Jerard let me keep halfway groomed. When he deemed it was too long, he'd have someone cut it. When I ran away, it had almost been time for another cut. My bangs just barely tickle the tops of my eyelids.

Once I'm dry, I step back into the large bedroom. The long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants are neatly set out on the big bed. I pull the pants on first, having to tie the drawstrings because they are too big. The shirt is also a bit large; the sleeves falling down past my wrists. Clearly the alpha was a beefy guy in high school. But they are clean and warm, and it's one of the best feelings I've had in a long while.

It smells good in here, Callan says in my mind.

He's right. The clothes smell amazing. Like the scent of the pack, but also the alpha's individual scent. It's a clean, manly smell. Like mint leaf and coffee beans, an odd but enticing combination. The whole room smells strongly of him. Surely someone who smells so...good, can't be too bad.

I glance around the room, trying to see if I can find anything else that will tell me about the missing Alpha of the Lunar Falls Pack. The room is pretty empty. There's a king sized bed, matching dresser and vanity, a grey love seat sitting in front of a stone fireplace. A TV is mounted above the mantle. That's about the extent of the room. No personal things, no pictures. Nothing, except for a single moonflower in a grey pot on the windowsill, its white bloom closed tight. It's dark outside, the sun must have set soon after I stepped into the shower.

There are two other doors in the room, both closed, besides the one leading into the bathroom. I open the one closest to me, and it reveals a large and surprisingly empty closet.

I try the other door, but it is locked. What else do bedrooms even have besides a bathroom and a closet? It'd obviously be rude to break the door down, but my curiosity has piked. His scent is too strong in this room for him to just sleep in here, but there are too few personal things for it to make sense that he spends a lot of time here. The answer has to be behind this door.

Leaving the locked door behind, I make my way back down the hallway to the stairs. I can smell the delicious scents of newly cooked food wafting up from the kitchen. I follow the odor trail to the big country kitchen and find a plate of steaming food sitting on the island. Dahlia is bent over the sink, scrubbing dishes and singing quietly to herself.

"Eat up darlin'," She says, turning around, "You haven't had a decent meal in a long time. We're gonna put the meat back on your bones."

Again, I feel the urge to cry. This time it's out of gratitude.

"Thank you so much, Dahlia. I can't even begin to-" she cuts me off.

"Hush now child, just eat. No thanks is necessary. You're welcome here for as long as you want to stay," she runs a finger through my still damp hair, smiling softly like a mother does to her child. Like my mother used to do to me.

The food was more than heavenly. I hadn't had a home cooked meal in...I couldn't even remember the last time I had a home cooked meal. Dahlia sat with me the entire time I ate, smiling and making small talk that made me feel even more at home in this unfamiliar house.

"My son should be home in the next day or two, he's been away on pack business," She says with a slight sigh.

"Are you sure that he won't mind me staying here until I can get back on my feet?" I ask her, glancing down at the empty plate and remembering just how much food had just been on it only moments before.

"My son is....a bit hard headed. I can't imagine where he gets it from," she says with a wink and a wry grin, "He won't mind, because I say so."

She said it with such finality that I find myself nodding, nearly believing it will be as simple as that.

"Let me take your plate. You go upstairs and get some rest. I trust you can find the bedroom again? I believe you'll find your friends are already up there waiting for you," Dahlia doesn't allow me to offer to wash my own dishes as she snatches the plate from me, shooing me in the direction of the stairs.

I find Zava curled up in front of the lit fireplace, while Ander and Malek are perched on the back of the loveseat. All three seem to be sound asleep. I do my best to tip toe to the bedside, strip out of the clothes and slide into the oversized bed.

It's not long before I slip into the most restful sleep I've had in a long time.