The night was rough. Every attempt to calm himself was met with resistance from an unconscious Bella. After falling asleep, she rolled onto her side, her hair falling onto his pillow. The scent of her shampoo wafted over, some fruity concoction like pineapple or tangerine. He'd never been close enough to notice it before. She mumbled in her sleep, dreaming about something, but the few words he could make out didn't tell him if it was good or bad. The stillness was otherwise only interrupted by the howling of the wind through the trees and the way the wood frame of the house creaked with every gust.
He had nearly drifted off but he was jolted awake. Her face was very, very close. Her nose was touching his. He could feel her breath on his face. His own breathing became heavy, and his mind began to wander, weaving between their evening together and everything he imagined when he was alone. His imagination was carrying him off again, and he could feel his jeans becoming tighter with every passing minute. No vampires were going to eat her, but she didn't say that wolves couldn't have a taste.
His eyes were red and heavy. Every time he closed them, he saw not blackness, but his mouth inching closer to press against her lips, cradling the back of her head in his hand as she deepened their kiss. He carefully placed his hand onto her arm and ghosted down the inside, admiring the smoothness of her skin and the wonderful scent that radiated from it. She stirred, and he withdrew, now thinking better of it. All he wanted in the world right now was to take her by the waist and pull her into his arms.
Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, she reached her arm across his chest, burying her face in the soft part of his shoulder.. He was paralyzed, completely intoxicated by her presence, but reluctant to move-or reciprocate. A shift in the blankets revealed that she had changed into a pajama shirt, but not any pants. The back of her underwear was peeking out, dark blue boyshorts with a pattern of tiny white birds all over. Very Bella. The tightness was back, causing even greater discomfort under the strain, and he wished that he could strip down to his own underwear. If he wasn't so sure she'd been drinking, he would think she was doing this on purpose. If only.
He tossed and turned, trying to think of literally anything else but the mostly-clothed girl sleeping next to him. Counting sheep or thinking about getting parts for his Rabbit proved unsuccessful. He tried thinking about the patrol schedule, or the gag-worthy things he'd seen in their heads, but all that did was make him worry about the shit they were going to give him after seeing all this. Thinking about Paul should have done the trick. But her long legs, the way she hugged the pillow tightly to her chest, the little smiles that crossed her soft, pink lips as she slept, was setting him on fire, and there was no putting it out.
This was torture. Going from hugs to trying to sleep next to her in her bed was quite a leap. He'd always envisioned them both be naked and worn out, cuddling under the blankets, waking her up the next morning with small kisses down her spine. Even just getting to kiss her before this would have made it a hundred times easier. But it was entirely possible that this was all platonic on her part, that she had only meant for him to keep her warm and keep her company, but then there was that subtle flirting. It felt like flirting. All this back-and-forth was exhausting.
As was this night. He stayed up late on patrol nights to keep that leech away from her house, but depriving him of sleep on his only night off was miserable. Her gorgeous body and his incessant ruminating was taking its toll on his body, and not just from the unrelenting ache in his pants. Even if sleep finally overtook him, he still ran the risk of his hands moving on their own in the night; or worse, her waking up the next morning to find something poking her in the butt. It seemed like it was even more active than before he first phased, more demanding, fueling an even stronger need for her than he had before. It was possible that more testosterone was surging through his body these days, but it was just as likely that it was caused by that stupid wolf magic. Like he needed another reason.
After struggling for hours to sleep, still uncertain that it was even a good idea, he finally elected to take the couch. He gingerly rose from the bed and covered her shoulders with the duvet, ever-so-carefully planting a kiss on her temple before closing the door behind him. Trying to tiptoe in an old house with a 6'4, 250 lb body was no easy feat. The floorboards creaked and groaned under his weight until he made it back to the living room, and collapsed onto the couch with a thud. He wasn't safe from the fantasies swirling around in his head, but at least he wouldn't accidentally make things awkward.
After what felt like a few minutes, he awoke to the harsh sun streaming in through the living room windows and into his eyes. What time had he come down? He had no idea, but he could tell that it was well into mid-morning, and he wasn't sure when Charlie would be back. Groaning, slowly sat up and groggily yanked off the mountain of blankets. The room was still littered with crumbs and packets of soy sauce. A ramekin of duck sauce had oozed onto the surface of the coffee table, accompanied by a stack of white boxes and a lone chip bag. Maybe he should clean up a bit before she wakes up.
What time was it? How long had he left her alone without checking on her? Falling down on the job yet again. He abandoned his task and padded up to her room. She was still fast asleep, bundled up like a caterpillar in her cocoon. Her hair was in her face, and she had taken every pillow on the bed for herself. Relieved, he sat down on the end of the bed, trying to ignore the faint headache he had greeted him along with the sun. The dreamcatcher was still hanging on above her bed, reflecting the small rays of sunshine peeking through the curtains. A silver wolf charm dangled from the leather cords, an inside joke before he even knew that it was one.
He wondered what she would remember from the night before and his mind wandered back to the night before on the couch, to Bella's remarks. It wasn't like her to get defensive. He teased her often enough for her to know an innocent jab, but this time she seemed embarrassed, like he'd hit a nerve. Maybe she meant it, or maybe she didn't. It didn't matter right now. His job was to look after her, not try to dissect every word she said. She was just so distracting. The pack understood, especially Sam, but he didn't expect them to cut him much slack.
He was obviously overthinking this. Get a couple drinks in him and everything goes to his head, he thought. The hormone rush didn't help, either. The real challenge was going to be keeping all of this out of the guy's reach. They would have a field day with this. He'd have to try to think about something else. What was there that could be louder than the events of last night playing on an endless loop in his head?
A chill persisted in the room, as though the heater had no effect. Strange. It was warm enough for the both of them during the night; however that didn't necessarily mean the that the heater had anything to do with it. There was a strange, familiar smell barely lingering in the air, a smell that burned his nose and made his heart drop into his stomach. A sudden icy breeze rolled into the room, grazing the back of his neck and sending a chill down his spine.
The window was open.