Bedside Monster (House Beasts #1)

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Oliver whistled to himself as he made himself a cup of coffee. The only thing that could have dampened his mood was the fact that his ass was sore. After the number Wovyn had done on him yesterday, that didn't come as a surprise. It was too late to regret it now that the excitement had worn out. On top of that, the bite mark he had left him was still glaringly obvious on his shoulder. It was a good thing that Oliver earned so many turtlenecks, they hid love bites wonderfully.

He was happy.

Not even the rain darkened his mood. In fact, he rather liked the rain, it was soothing and perfect weather to snuggle up with some homemade treats. He wanted to do that with Wovyn when he came home, even if it only was for five minutes. Granted, that probably won't be long. The imp wasn't the type to sit down and do nothing. Oliver didn't mind. All he could think about what that in half an hour he was free to go back to him.

He heard small footsteps behind him. He turned around only to be met with an empty room and dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. Silly him. This had sounded like a child running, but why would there be a child at this time in his office? Must be one of his hallucinations.

He paused. He didn't have hallucinations. That was why he wasn't taking pills in the first place.

He glanced over his shoulder once more. He was alone.

He hurried back at his office. It was Friday afternoon, a lot of people had gone back home early after having saved up hours during the week to enjoy an early weekend. Not that it mattered. He sat down at his desk and leaned over his computer, trying to focus on the last numbers of the week, but he was distracted.

His eyes were drawn to the five bird statuettes on his desk. They resembled the ones he had at home, in his office, except that they were ordered from the smallest to the biggest. Wovyn would probably hate their lack of colours but he thought that they were pretty...

He frowned. Their order was reversed.

He stood up and walked around to take a closer look at them, but he was sure of it. He always placed the smaller one near the edge of his desk, yet there was the biggest one, in its spot. Seeing that made a cold shudder run up his spine. Someone had deliberately done that, knowing he would notice. And that someone knew him well.

He looked around, unnerved, but he was still alone. Very alone, in fact. None of his colleagues were nearby. He returned to his spot without putting the statuettes back in place but he couldn't help but glance at them regularly. He couldn't focus on his work.

He best go home.

He got up and started to pack his bag. His hands were shaking. He could feel a gaze on him, a cold, dead gaze, but each time he looked around there wasn't anyone there. This only hurried him.

He dropped his pencil case in his hast, his open pencil case; a pen rolled under his desk and to the other side. Yet for a second he froze, started by the sound of it crossing the wooden floor. It laid tauntingly out of his reach. He walked around his desk to pick it up.

He heard small steps, and whipped around, startled again. No one. He was too much on his nerves, he told himself, this was probably all in his imagination. Silly him. Silly, silly Oliver, imagining sounds, right?

He spotted his bag. It wasn't where he had left it, it was several feet away, poking out from under his half-open cabinet. Hidden, yet left in the open just enough it to be spotted. And to grab it, Oliver was forced to thrust his hand into the darkness. He stared at it. His heart was beating so strong it was the only sound he could hear.