My Super Depressing Story About How I Became The First One

Chapter Eight

I sat on the edge of my new bed, staring blankly at my feet. Thinking of nothing really. The room Cain had set me up in, was a large space. The bed was twice as big as my one at the apartment. It was a large, dark wood, four poster. The colour scheme from the foyer and the small lounge, carried on to the room. The only difference was the rich accents of red. Every wall, painted black, but the one behind the headboard of the bed, which was a rich red. The colour of red roses. Metallic paisley designs, a few shades darker than the red, decorated the feature wall.

The white duvet cover was covered in cleverly embroidered dark red roses. An assortment of red, black and white cushions covered almost half the bed. A large wardrobe, the same wood as the bed, stood at the end of the bed, against the far wall. A red window seat sat underneath the large arched, stained glass window.

I couldn't yet see the view the window has to offer, due to the dark of night. Not that I was looking. My unpacked bag sat next to a wooden trunk at the end of the bed. I couldn't even bare to unpack it yet. That was another job for tomorrow. I did, however, manage to dig out my pajamas, which was just a large t-shirt that fell to my mid-thigh.

It was my favorite shirt. Though I didn't wear it much, so I didn't have to wash it. It was once Damon's top and I hadn't washed it for over two years. I only wore it when I needed comfort, and god knows, I damn well needed the comfort tonight.

There was a knock on the door. I thought about pretending to be asleep for a moment, when I heard Cain's voice, "Savannah, I know you're awake, I can hear you. But I understand if you don't want to see anyone tonight. I just wanted to know if you would like to help me finish this unopened bottle of wine."

I looked at the door. Damn he's good. "Ok, you can come in," I said. I couldn't say no to wine.

Cain opened the door. His tall, big, athletic frame filled up the door frame. Though they were small door frames made for the little people of the past.

He held two wine glasses and the bottle he had promised me. He tried smiling at me, but failed. His eyes still haunted by the horrors he saw that night. But being a werewolf, surely he was accustomed to seeing a bloody mess like that? Maybe being Lycaon, he didn't have to deal with things like that? Maybe? That was a question I would have to put down on my extremely long list of other questions.

"Red or white?" I asked.

"White, a Pinot Gris," he answered, setting the glasses down on the small vanity table, that sat against the wall, just left of the window. He cracked open the twist cap. Most wines now came with twist caps instead of corks. I appreciated corked wines and their flavors, but corks were a bitch. They have the tendency to brake or become impossible to remove. I liked the twist caps, and didn't mind the difference in taste, not that there was much of one, anyway. But don't tell a wine connoisseur that I said that.

"Hmmm, my favorite," I said as he passed me a rather full glass. Was he trying to get me drunk? I didn't care. I would like to be drunk, to feel numb and not to over think. Or it could do the complete opposite, and I could spend all night drunk crying. Now that could be messy.

The taste of wine tingled my tongue as it passed through my lips. I could taste citrus, with undercurrents of pear and melon. It was a good wine.

Cain laid on the bed on his side, propped up on one elbow. He took a long swig of his wine before setting in on the bed, holding it by the stem of the glass. He slowly twirled the glass between his finger and thumb, concentrating on it, before he stopped and glanced up at me. He looked at me through the loose trails of his hair that fell in front of his face. His blue eyes looked sad and uncertain.