Devour You

50

Victoria

Making my way around the wide and unfamiliar bed, I pull the blanket over the freshly white bedsheets, preparing to get settled for bed. Sleep is all I crave, immensely, right now. And I think it's safe to say that my body, and mind, needs all the rest it can get.

I'm tired, and exhausted. And to my surprise, I overheard Isaiah order for one of his men to bring me to the guest bedroom upstairs, for my much needed sleep. So I've been up here, alone, in this spacious bedroom for merely an hour now, only to think that I've been thinking too much.

I huff out an exhausted breath, and walk around the bed after I plumped the pillows. I prepare to get on it whilst throwing the blanket aside for me to get onto the cool mattress - my other hand combing a tiresome hand through my loose brown waves that overlap my collarbones, while doing so.

But before I can rest my frame and as I still stand, I hear a quiet knock sound on the bedroom door, behind me. I peer over my shoulder, a moment, watching the doorknob twist from across the room.

Then, I watch the all too familiar, intimidatingly tall figure of Isaiah, enter. Exhaustion consumes me once again, as I turn around again to get into bed. "Sorry, but I'm officially on Do Not Disturb mode. I'm already sleeping!" I start in dismissal, hopping onto the cool mattress.

I hurriedly pull the white bedsheets over my slightly shivering frame, not daring to peek out and meet Isaiah's mysterious irises.

But when I hear the bedroom door shut seconds after, I push the white sheets hurriedly off of me, to gather sight - but my tired body remains reclined. In front of the closed door, Isaiah's inscrutable figure remains standing.

This time, I notice that he's vesturing something different, compared to our last encounter in the corridor. Now, Isaiah stands in a simple and bright white t-shirt, with a pair of black sweats. His short ruffled hair is messy, and wet, I can gather from here. He looks as if he just came from out of the shower.

Isaiah's mystifying irises are already locked on mine. And I feel my shoulders tense, while watching him. I perch an imperceptive brow, while the bedroom holds a deafening silence.

"One of my boys suggested I bring you some clothes." He starts lowly, a pinch of distaste lurking behind his deep voice when he already starts in his steps toward the bed. My light brown irises flicker down to his hand - seeing a folded outfit, I presume, in his palm.

My careful eyes watch him sit the neatly folded clothes at the end of the bed, just below my covered toes.

Dread starts picking at my skin, as I shift on the cool mattress to gain my desired sleep. I turn my back toward Isaiah to finally flutter my heavy eyelids shut.
I may still be in my worn out yellow flannel top, and a pair of uncomfortable skinny jeans, but I refuse to accept anything from Isaiah or his gang - unless it's a deal of me getting out of here.

But as I lay in silence, soon hearing Isaiah's bare feet near the door to exit the room, curiosity soon piles within - on what I've been wondering ever since I was sent up here - and it eats up at my cold skin.

Hearing the bedroom door swing open once again, my pink lips part, as do my eyes flutter open. "Why the bedroom?" I ask softly.

Behind my resting back, I don't hear the bedroom door shut. He must've stopped in his tracks.

Slowly, I decide to peer over my shoulder; my light brown eyes soon meeting the back of Isaiah. I don't revert my awaiting gaze, when I choose to sit upright on the bed - the white bedsheets still merely warming my chilly figure.