May Seasons Come (Werewolf Romance)

Chapter Three

        Maybelle did not cry, despite her unfortunate situation. Instead of taking self-pity on herself, she put her ear against the door, listening for any voices or movement outside of it.

            Her hope faltered as minutes soon turned into hours, and she gave up reluctantly when she realized no one would be coming for her for a long time. May became weary, exhausted by her eventful night. Her head fell further and further, closer to the ground until she had eventually fallen asleep on the floor next to the door.

            She stayed like that for a long time, unaware of the door opening and a low chuckling filling the silence. And only when a pair of strong arms gathered her into its embrace, did she stir slightly.

            She looked up at the man who held her. She was still half asleep and could not make out he familiar man's name. When he finally set her on the covers, she buried herself deep into the pillows until he pulled her away from them and instead set her head in his lap.

            "My little bell." He whispered into her ear, placing a kiss to her cheek, "It is time for you to wake up, as you have been sleeping for much too long."

            Maybelle stirred a little more at hearing his voice. Wyatt grazed the side of her face with his fingers, trailing them lower and lower until they touched the soft curves of her breast. She instantly woke up then with wide eyes, and panting for breath.

            "What were you dreaming of?" he asked curiously.

            May hesitated for a long time, looking around her surroundings as memories came flooding back.

            "I do not remember." She said.

            Wyatt found himself laughing lightly at that, "You do not remember what you were dreaming of?"

            "No," she replied, looking at him with wide eyes, "I do not remember why this has happened to me."

            "And what has happened to you?" He pressed once more.

            She gave a wry smile, "I do not remember why I am dreaming the way I am."

            Wyatt assured the littlest of hope she had to still be asleep, "But you are not dreaming, my little bell. You are in fact awake and well."

            "Then why is it that you are still here?" She pondered aloud, looking at the dimming candles and the sun that shone through the sheer curtains.

            He laughed once more, but louder this time, as he answered her, "Because I, too, am awake?"

            The question threw her off guard and May stared at him for a long time before realizing that she was indeed, not dreaming. She whimpered, drawing back from the man and she yelled at him, "Stay away from me!"

            He frowned, the mere rejection paining him but he quickly reprimanded himself that she had gone through a lot in the past several hours. He cupped the side of her cheek, despite her trying to resist his touch, "How about we go get you some breakfast and then I can explain to you all that has happened?"

            May was much too curious for answers, and even hungrier for food. She did not deny his request, but she did make sure to keep a distance from the man. And when he had guided her down the same hallway as before, and down the stairs, she saw his father sitting in the den, reading a book. He had a fixed expression on his face, and Wyatt turned around and put a finger to his lips as if to warn her not to speak. She did not, and silently followed Wyatt to the kitchen which must have been just as massive as her own back home, if not even greater with its marble floors and matching cabinet tops.

            She let her fingers slide against he smoothness of the counters as she walked to the island, and Wyatt could not help but see how innocent and adorable she was all together. He was infatuated by her every move.

            She sat down upon one of the stools, and was careful to keep herself collected despite the door that led to outside, which seemed to call out to her. She wanted to escape; she wanted to return to her gilded cage. Nevertheless, she kept her cool by staying calm, as if she was not secretly planning a route of escape.

            When Wyatt had stepped into the pantry, only then did she bound for the door. She had swung it open with such ease and took of running so fast; that she did not expect what was to happen next.

            Wyatt tackled her to the ground, bracing himself so that he took the impact of the landing. She glared up at the man, and mumbled beneath her breath, "You fail to see that I do not belong here."

            "Oh," he retorted, "but you do. Now let us not play these silly games and instead return to the kitchen to where we will eat, and talk., like mature individuals."

            She sneered, "But are you not immature for kidnapping a woman who holds no value to you?"

            Wyatt picked her up from the dew covered ground and began to carry her back to the kitchen. He shook his head but said nothing, and she quickly became frustrated with his silence.

            "Why do you not answer me?" She questioned aloud.

            Wyatt shook his head once more, and then his gaze snapped to her own so that she was staring deeply into his golden brown orbs.

            "Because," he snapped back at her, "You hold more value to me than you could possibly imagine."

            "How so?" She queried.

            "Because," he said again, putting her down back onto the stool and leaning on the countertops across from her, "without you, I might as well be dead."

            The silence continued between them once more. He took out a pan and put in onto the stove, to where he began to make eggs and sausage.  May was not surprised that he could cook, as she had assumed that he had done it for the other women he had kidnapped. Then, a thought struck her and she began to wonder if she was, in fact, the only one who he had kidnapped.

            When she asked him this, he replied, "Yes, for I need only one mate to fulfill my duties as an Alpha male."

            "Alpha? Like wolves?" She had asked curiously.

            He nodded, "As a Lycan-"

            She quickly interrupted him, "I am sorry, as a what?"

            "As a Lycan-"

            She interrupted him again, "Lycans do not exist."

            He yelled out in aggravation by her constant interruptions and stared at her intently, "In my reality, they do."

            Maybelle got up from her chair and closed the distance between them, her walk steady but her expression baffled. Wyatt barely caught the move to when her fingers wrapped against the handle of the pan, and as skilled as he was, he did not see her next move coming.

            May picked up the pan and in an instant, she had swung it with all her might so that it hit the side of Wyatt's head, "You sir, are out of your wits!"

            He fell to the floor on impact, cupping the side of his head in pain.

            Maybelle bent down to his level for an instant and said to him in a sweet voice, "Lycans do not exist." She paused briefly before continuing, "I am going to go home now, and if you ever try to lay another finger on me again, I swear I will do more damage to you than this."

            Maybelle, in all of her confidence, turned her heel to be greeted by no other than Wyatt's father himself. And with arms crossed and firm lips, she dared say he did not look too pleased by her wrongdoings.