The Alpha's Little Thief (hiatus)

Chapter Six

April 30th 2020

Chapter Six

I woke alone, though I could have sworn that I felt someone hug me close in the night. I'd kicked the sheets off at some point and they were tangled around my legs. I untangled myself, looking around the room. The walls were a greyish-indigo, darker than the outside of the house and the sheets were a grey so dark they looked almost black. It was a bachelor's pad if I've ever seen one. I stretched, wincing at the soreness still present in my shoulder and rib. The wounds looked like they'd healed about three weeks overnight. In about a week's time, not even scars would remain.

"Ew," I whispered, realizing I was still in my stained leggings from yesterday. I needed a shower and new clothes desperately. My stomach growled, interrupting my thoughts. And food- the healing had taken a lot out of me. I padded across the beige carpet and locked the main door, snooping on my way there. There were books and papers neatly stacked on a mahogany desk and two open doors across the large room. One led to a walk-in closet and the other to a black marble bathroom. I pulled his white shirt over my head and wiggled out of my pants and thong, carless of my nudity. I only noticed then that I should have closed the curtains before stripping, but simply shrugged. Hopefully, no one was down there, and if they was they were certainly getting a great show.

The shower could easily fit ten people and was outfitted with several showerheads and jets. I took a brief glance in the mirror and almost gasped. I looked absolutely atrocious. My red straight hair was matted and knotted so bad that I couldn't run my fingers through it, my skin was pale and covered in dried blood and grime, and there was a huge purple hickey on my neck. I scowled. That fucking prick.

Apparently, and or some inane reason, werewolf hickeys healed slower than life-threatening injuries. I did not want to meet anyone with that ugly thing on my neck. They might get silly ideas in their head, like that I belonged to someone. I was my own person, nobody owned me and nobody had the right to lay claim on me either.

It took a few tries - there were just so many handles! - but I was finally able to get the showerhead I wanted, the large golden one from the ceiling, running with hot water. I stood under the burning spray for several minutes before I looked for a washcloth and squirted way too much soap on it. I scrubbed hard at my skin, turning it pink. I watched the water at my feet turn brown, wishing I could wash away yesterday like the grime covering my body.

I didn't get out until I ran out of hot water. I'd zoned out nearly the entire time so I wasn't sure how long exactly I stood there. I walked up to the mirror and inspected myself again. Much better- you could actually see my freckles now.

I opened random cupboards looking for a comb or a new toothbrush but could find neither. Shrugging, I grabbed Hawthrone's and applied a generous amount of minty fresh toothpaste. It felt amazing to have clean teeth. I left the toothpaste bottle open, pushing down a little until some liquid escaped onto the dark marble then threw his toothbrush on the counter, not back into the cup where I'd found it.

From my snooping, I could tell he liked things organized. I wasn't sure if that was actually his doing or if he had a maid do it, but I'm sure my mess would irritate him. And mom always claimed being a bona fide slob wouldn't get me anywhere in life.

I wrapped a fluffy white towel around my chest and stepped into the room inspecting my hands. There's nothing I hate more than dirt under my fingernails. There was a tug in my gut and I looked up.

"Jesus fucking christ!" I screeched, clutching the towel tighter to my chest.

Hawthorne lay shirtless in the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He raised a single sexy brow at my screaming. "Must you be so loud in the mornings?"