When the alarm clock started its nasty ass chirping at five thirty, Paul rolled over to smack it senseless, snickering to himself when it made a croaked sound of electronic death before silencing completely.
Stretching wide, he wondered why he felt so fucking happy to be getting up for work, considering Sam had called him hours before the ass crack of dawn to…
"Oh, shit," Paul muttered, jumping out of bed to run to the living room. His morning erection slapped hard against his stomach, reminding Paul he'd better clothe his sorry ass before he made a grand entrance into the room where he assumed his imprint was still sleeping. As a man, he was more than happy to give her a view, but as a newly imprinted, yet to be accepted wolf, he had to hide the bonuses until later.
Turning back, he threw open his armoire, pulling out the first pair of sweatpants he touched. Dancing around like a drunken ballerina, he had to slow his movements. Werewolf or not, he still had to put only one leg in at a time.
The elastic waistband hadn't even finished snapping against his waist before Paul was damn near skipping into his living room, more excited than a child on Christmas morning. He smiled as he looked at the couch, the grin sliding slowly off of his face like an egg down a window.
He had lost her!
The wolf within was howling like a bitch as Paul stared dumbly at the empty spot on the couch, wondering how it was even fucking possible for her to have vanished. He couldn't hear shit over his own panicked heartbeat and ragged breath, as the scenarios raced past:
Only someone with a key could enter or leave this place, the double locked front door a preventive measure from any of his past flings thinking they could leave with his shit.
His windows also couldn't be opened without a special key, or unless they were shattered. But no human could shatter the specially made glass, not even with some type of rock or gun.
Considering the type of noise it would take for even a supernatural critter to get into his home, Paul would've been fully awake and ripping off pieces of flesh before the intruder could enter his domain.
Okay, logic in place, that meant she was still here, Paul thought, trying to calm both himself and his goddamn wolf. For fucks sake! He was a werewolf! Of course he could find her. Fuck he could still hear and feel her presence close by. She had to be here somewhere; her shoes were still by the side of the couch and the blanket was gone. Allowing his instincts to guide him, Paul walked carefully into the kitchen his eyes zeroing in on the cabinet beneath the sink where a tiny piece of blanket was sticking out.
Had she….Was she….. Shaking his head in sadness, the wolf didn't want to think what this might mean.
Planting himself directly in front of the doors- Jesus Christ it was a small area, too small for any human to be able to comfortably crawl into, Paul thought sadly—he quietly peeled them open, afraid that he might startle his urchin and nearly fell on his ass once both doors were widely ajar.
Like before, she was in a small and tight ball, the crown of her head sticking out from part of the blanket and looking painfully smooshed against the inside wall. Pulling the blanket down from her head, Paul checked her temperature and breathing, once again thinking she felt kind of cold, but that her color wasn't too far off and she was breathing normally.
It took a werewolf's finesse for Paul to pull his little urchin out of her hidey hole without waking her. Once she was completely out, he held her tightly to his chest, relief coursing through him. She was here; she was safe; and she was still his.
Debating on whether or not he should put her in his bed or back on the couch, Paul continued to cuddle her closely, gently rocking them back and forth in a soothing motion as he walked out of the kitchen. His eyes fell on the medications Sue had left for his little urchin and Paul decided to put her on the couch and apply the ointment. If his urchin woke up, she'd be wedged firmly between him and the couch and not accidentally slide off should she panic. Deep in his mind, Paul knew he wouldn't just watch her fall off of his damn bed either, but the couch seemed more secure to the wolf.
He laid her down, stretching out her legs and checking to see if her feet were cold before he got up to wash his hands; Sue's reminder screaming loudly that he could still unintentionally get his imprint sick. As the hot water sluiced over his hands, Paul frowned, making a mental note that he should probably turn down the thermostat setting to the water heater; the hot water being close to scalding for most normal people.
Clean, dry, and grabbing some cleaning supplies, Paul went back to her side, picking up the funny looking aluminum tube and reading the warnings; most of it scientific gibberish. Tugging the blanket down, he kept watching for signs that she might wake up. When he pulled up her layers of shirts, Paul winced slightly, hoping his urchin would feel comfortable enough to take a shower or bath when she woke up.
The thought soothed him a bit, thinking of his girl in the shower and finally having the luxury to wash herself completely. He didn't know about other homeless people, but he assumed any type of access to a bath or a shower would be well received. His little urchin looked very dainty and feminine; maybe she'd fill up the huge-ass tub and soak for a bit? He had bought some expensive soap shit awhile back at the hinting from one of his fuck buddies; they only used it once before Paul had decided if he was going to fuck anyone in the water, he preferred the shower.
Smearing a long ribbon of ointment on his finger, Paul touched the jagged slash across his urchin's abdomen. He could feel the cut and kept his eyes trained on her face for signs of pain or distress, allowing his finger to blur the medicine over her skin. At least, he tried to remain man enough to stare at her face and turn all wolf to admire her stomach.
After several passes, Paul breathed a sigh of relief, wiping any excess goo on his sweats, his eyes immediately glued to the tender exposure of his little urchin's belly. His fingers immediately went back to caressing the intimate and sensitive area, his wolf damn near drooling in pleasure. This, this right here was real, surreal, fantasy and life all rolled into one. Paul wanted to lean his head over the small area of skin and nuzzle his lips against all of it, her wounds, scars and pearly patches of perfection.
The wolf within knew this was the key to utter happiness. It didn't matter that she was asleep; she was allowing her protector to touch her more intimately than if they had sex and Paul couldn't help but shudder in ecstasy from it.
Pulling her shirts back down and replacing the blanket up to her chin, he tried really fucking hard not to smile like a gloating bitch at his accomplishment. It didn't work. All he had done was medicate his little urchin and yet he had the biggest fucking hard-on ever.
Paul was ready to neuter his wolf.
A clock chimed softly, reminding Paul it was six and he had yet to even take a shower or eat breakfast. Hastily ghosting his hand over his little urchin's face, Paul got up to get ready for work, nearly ripping his hair out in the shower when he realized he was humming. Humming for fuck's sake! What the hell was he becoming?
Silently rushing around his house like a werewolf tornado in an attempt to get ready for work, Paul found himself constantly stopping to check on her, knowing that nothing had changed, but for some reason he had to actually see it to be sure. Twenty-two minutes later, he was finally ready to leave, hastily scribbling a note for his urchin to find on the coffee table next to one the pills Sue had left.
Almost out the damn door, and he turned around abruptly, heading back to his urchin to slide the coffee table a few inches further away from the couch; just in case she got up too suddenly and rolled the wrong way.
Driving twenty miles over the posted speed limit—Paul's usual status quo—he felt really good about himself. It was the weirdest fucking feeling he had ever experienced: satisfaction, happiness and contentment all rolled into one big fucking bubble of euphoria. Shit, it was like receiving a never ending blow job.
At twenty two, Paul felt like he had a pretty good life; even fucking better now that he had a mate. Working construction for a fairly large firm, Paul was basically a grunt. Like he had told Jared, the pay wasn't awesome, but it was decent and once he made foreman—a nice pay raise- he had all intentions of taking college classes to become an architect.
Pages and pages of floor plans lined his home office; projects he hoped to see come true. Most of his designs reflected a symbiotic essence between nature and humanity. He was human enough to admit that he could appreciate the fine details of glass, metal and marble but he was wolf enough to want to infuse wooden materials throughout; the heavy aroma of cedar or the spicy scent of evergreen enveloping him like a second home. He loved to look at the fine grains of lumber, the trees that were forfeited showing the history of their lives in the subtle color variations.
Stone or rock also fit into Paul's ideas. Not those of masonry; the crappy, perfectly shaped bricks. Real rocks, like the basketball sized lava pieces he had used to build his fireplace at the house. That had been another shock the hell out of a merchant type scene.
He had driven halfway across the fucking state to the rock quarry, hand picking the pieces he wanted to use for his house. The twerp working for the day had told Paul that wasn't allowed, purchases were determined by randomness. Paul had asked how random was it to hear of working at a rock quarry and dying from pissing off a customer. Thankfully the quarry had quietly accepted his money and left it be.
He had planned to start school next year. That was after vampire sightings had begun to diminish around La Push and before his imprint showed up. He would still go to school, but only if his little urchin was happy and content. Maybe she wanted to go to school, too?
Paul grinned stupidly as he thought about them taking basic classes together. Easily he could see her doing something artsy; sort of like Jake's girl, Nadine. She was a free lance photographer and Paul could see his little urchin snapping pictures. Hell, she could take the pictures of his finished buildings, highlighting the fine details he would work hard to express. Nadine had done that for Jake, taking shots of a few cars and bikes being refurbished in various stages to use as ads.
Paul's little urchin as a photographer sounded like a damn fine idea.
With ten minutes to spare, he pulled into a gas station to fill up his tank and grab some breakfast for himself. He would probably have to start getting up at five instead of five thirty if he was going to spend so much coddling time with his little urchin; gas station breakfast selections sucked ass.
An O.J., a bag of doughnuts, three breakfast muffins and a sausage hot dog later, Paul was swiping his debit card to pay, watching the early commuters gain in numbers as they whizzed down the streets of Port Angeles.
Today was going to be a busy day.
When Bella woke up later in the morning, she was surprised to find herself back on the couch wrapped in the same blanket she had been the night before. The Paul man must have moved her; she really hoped he wasn't angry but how was she to explain about demons she was forbidden to speak of?
Pulling the blanket up into a ball, Bella sniffed the freshness of the fabric, trying to comfort herself. The blanket was really soft, nothing like anything she had ever felt, but had often seen in windows and newspaper ads. Something this nice would quickly get dirty in her cubby and Bella sighed, a bit sad at the thought. Unnoticeables like herself probably didn't deserve nice plushy blankets; she'd have to be careful when she managed to return home and not draw attention to having this luxury.
There weren't any noises coming from the house and Bella inched her way off of the couch, wondering where the Paul man was. A lone piece of paper was sitting on the table in front of her and she picked it up, hoping to be able to understand enough of it and anxious for a clue. She failed to notice the funny aluminum square next to the paper.
Urchin,
I had to go to work. You need to stay in bed, relax and get better. I should be home by six and we can talk then. Feel free to wander about the house. I'll explain the lock thing later.
-P
Sighing in defeat, she let it fall to the floor. Whatever it said, she wasn't able to read it having never formally gone to school. She could make out certain words if they were printed, but this paper had been written in an odd squiggly type of writing and Bella didn't have a clue.
Was she supposed to wait here on the couch until the Paul man came looking for her? The monsters didn't like it when they had to find her and Bella figured if she was supposed to sit here, he probably would have tied her down or something equally mean.
With her mind firmly set, she meticulously folded her blanket and set it aside, anxious to start her day and see if she could figure out what was expected of her and where the Paul man was. Standing up, it was then Bella saw her brightly covered toes.
Where had these come from?
Sitting back on the edge of the couch, Bella wiggled her toes, confused as to why she was wearing them and who had she stolen them from and when? Grabbing the end seam, she tugged until the sock slid off, presenting five very clean toes.
Just as quickly she did the same to her other foot, admiring the cleanness she couldn't remember ever seeing and wondering how it had happened. Had the Paul man done this? She knew some people had weird fetishes and maybe he was one of those; a guy who liked to look at girl's feet. It could be disturbing, but if all he wanted to do was clean her feet and admire them, Bella could give him that. At least until she could figure out how to get home.
Pulling the brightly colored socks back on her cooling feet, Bella decided it wasn't overly important at the moment.
The living room held little interest to her other than the huge fireplace taking up almost an entire wall. Bella was slightly afraid of fire, but this didn't have one and the rocks were like nothing she had ever seen. Large, irregularly shaped charcoal grey colored pieces seemed to mold perfectly together without any pattern.
Bella glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone before approaching the hearth, mindful not to walk near the opening in case something tried to grab her. Tracing her fingers over the rocks, she could feel the porous surface, tiny indentations in the stones that made the structure seem…alive.
Stumbling back, Bella wondered why she had thought that. This was just like an inside mountain, sort of, and it couldn't breathe. Still, as she left the room, she got the eerie feeling that she was being watched and her step hastened, eager to leave.
Down the hall, carefully searching the first room, Bella realized it was supposed to be a bathroom, but it hadn't been finished. There was only a sink with large ugly holes that would probably be where a toilet and bathtub needed to be placed.
The next room was empty also, but had a thick plush rug standing in a corner and closet doors which Bella opened. There wasn't anything in this room not even boxes and she left quickly, afraid of the area. It wasn't the same unease she had had with the fireplace but why would a person keep an empty room?
The next two rooms looked to be an office and a large bedroom. Both of those rooms felt warmer to Bella, being filled with possessions and furniture, the office had dark walls of some type of wood and the floor was…well to Bella she thought it looked like rocks but smoother. Not like tile but smooth enough not to hurt her feet. Surprised she looked down; where had her shoes gone? She hadn't taken them off, had she?
Oh, she'd never get to leave if they took her shoes, although she could probably find some more socks and just wear a few pairs all at once to help protect her feet. If nothing else, she could grab some trash bags to wrap around and use them like shoes. Plastic didn't help much but anything was better than nothing and if she could find some paper also, she'd have padding.
The large bedroom was very sleek in its appearance; at least in color it was sleek. There were two different clothing chests in the room; one standing taller than Bella and the other a normal size with a TV on it. The only odd thing in the room was the bed. To be sure, the mattress was huge, probably big enough for five or six people to sleep on comfortably. There was a bedside table, but the bed itself had no frame, positioned in the middle of the room and pushed up against a wall.
Inspecting the room more closely, Bella realized that the flooring in here had changed from wood into tile, somewhere between a light black to a dark grey in color. This was definitely tile even though it was matted and not shiny in gloss and a direct contrast to the deep green textured walls.
The longer she stared, the more Bella realized that the room's colors were similar to the woods after sunset. It was fuzzily dark, no indication of a sun's final beams of light but not nighttime where nothing would be discernible.
Her stomach gave a loud rumble and Bella clutched to it tightly. God, how long had it been since she'd eaten? She had been so distracted with her head hurting earlier and the inability to run away that she had forgotten to look for food. With once last glance at the weird bedroom, Bella took off for the other end of the house to where a kitchen must be located.
The room was easy enough to find, the Paul man's house not being overly large. Last night she hadn't been able to see much in the dark, but now during the day, she could see that this room, too, was oddly colored and bright. The weird looking appliances were all metal and the cabinets and floor were as white as snow. She sort of knew what everything was and went towards the largest machine in hopes of filling her sore belly.
Opening the fridge, Bella was disappointed to find that it held very little. Some butter, a half-full jar of ketchup and some type of soda. The cupboards too proved to hold nothing of value, at least nothing Bella could eat. There was a box of noodles and she thought about eating them. She could add some of the butter or even some of the ketchup for flavoring. With resignation, she pulled the box out and decided it was as good as she could get.
Bella knew she had to get the noodles wet and let them soak to become squishy. Randomly opening cabinets she finally found a pot to fill with water, emptying the box of spaghetti and adding a lot of water.
Every few minutes she'd stick her hand in to check if they were ready. Bella didn't know how long it would take, but after her stomach started to really hurt again, and even trying to chew the still crunchy noodles, she gave up. She would just have to go out of this house and search nearby for food.
She couldn't get outside, though.
Every window in the place was locked; Bella could tell that some type of key was needed to open them but she didn't know where it could be and the front door, too, had a keyhole on the inside, as if this was a prison.
Was this house really a prison?
Feeling panicky again, she tried the door, pulling, tugging and kicking, hoping it would miraculously open which it didn't. Far from being a claustrophobic, Bella felt like the wall were closing in on her and she was trapped. She retraced her steps from room to room, trying every window to see if it would unlock including the tiny slivers in the bathroom. They weren't windows, but crystallized rock set in the walls to allow light to filter through and Bella still pummeled against them hoping for a hidden release to exist.
Exhausted, upset, willing to admit defeat and just go eat some of the ketchup in the fridge, Bella slumped into a dining room chair, idly playing with a can of soda she had taken from the fridge. It wasn't food, but it would help some and give her more energy to search for an escape. She finally pulled the ring up, listening to the hiss of carbonation and trying not to shudder as it invoked unpleasant memories.
Bella tried not to gulp all of the sugary sweetness in one swallow, but her belly was yelling and hurting; it didn't allow for her to take too much time analyzing the outcome once the first drop of cola hit her tongue. Faster than she would have wanted, the can was empty, Bella tipping her head back all the way to allow for the last few drips to trickle out.
Renewed, she made another sweep through the house, finding not only her shoes, but her jacket. She was really going to have to start paying better attention if she hoped to live longer than a week. With that thought, she went back to the room with a bed, digging around until she found a sock drawer.
There were a lot of socks in here, enough to last her for years. She had to steal to survive, but it didn't make her feel good. After examining the many pairs, she chose three of the shabbier sets, stuffing them into her pockets and giggling lightly at the funny bulges they made. She'd put them back if she couldn't get out of the house. There was no reason to hold on to them where the Paul man might see.
Looking down at her shirt, she also thought about finding a replacement for it as well. The man was a lot bigger than her and his stuff wouldn't exactly fit her but she could cuff the sleeves of a clean, thick hoodie or sweater.
In the end, Bella decided that was probably a really bad idea. If the cops found her, the Paul man could easily prove she had stolen something as unique as a sweater. Possibly the socks, too, but white socks seemed to be a lot more common than a specific sweater would. Plus, she had already drank one of his sodas and on impulse had taken a second one as well. Along with the blanket she couldn't convince herself to leave, Bella knew she couldn't risk a new top.
She left the room to walk back down the hall, stopping before the last door she had assumed was the hall closet. Bella had peeked inside of the room earlier, but only by an inch or two, enough to register that there were jackets and bags hanging up. Now as she threw open the door completely and turned on a hallway light she could see that there was another door on the back wall.
It was made of the same thick wood the rest of the house doors were, the lever a polished nickel and cool to the touch.
Did she really dare to open this secret door? Why would the Paul man keep a hidden room unless there were scary things down there? Breathlessly, Bella approached the door, leaning her ear against the wood to see if she could hear anything. When that didn't work, she dropped to her knees, placing her head to the small door seam feeling just the smallest of drafts of coldness waft from underneath.
Crawling away, she looked at this possible salvation or slander. What if she could get out this way and was too scared to do so because of what might be down there? Or what if she went ahead and opened the door and somehow the Paul man would find out. If he was really creepy he might have tools he'd use to hurt her with; she'd snuck into a movie theater once and watched just such a thing, nearly crying out when an attendant grabbed her by the shoulder and demanded that she either show him her ticket stub, or leave.
Bella told herself she had nothing to lose and everything to gain by going through that door as she went to retrieve her blanket, then grabbing an old backpack to place it in before opening the secret door.
There was no sound as it swung wide, leaving a dark gaping hole in the back of the closet, the hallway light not offering enough power to penetrate past what Bella could see were stairs. Closing her eyes, she recalled how eerie some of the Underground was and she managed to navigate her way through it relatively injury free. Looking back at the scary stairwell, Bella made her descent.
It was creepy, walking down the stairs into the unknown. Stopping every couple of steps, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness, spotting the faint glow of natural light hitting the last stair from some type of window she couldn't see. Taking the final stair, Bella turned to her left, surprised at what she found.
There were only three windows down here; small rectangular ones that most people probably couldn't fit through. Certainly not her captor. One of the windows was adjacent to the washing machine. If she could climb up on the metal basin and lean over, she could probably slither through the window assuming it wasn't as strongly secured as the ones above. Creeping as stealthily as she knew how, Bella ignored everything but her goal.
Her feet banged against the washer as she hoisted herself to a sitting position before pulling up her legs to stand on top of it, careful to disperse her weight on the far edges so as not to dent the lid. Her shoes didn't really have any type of traction to them and she slipped a few times, hastily clutching the rafters above to prevent falling.
She could have died in relief when she spotted the simple lock on the window by her head, her fingers quickly flipping the hook and the pane falling backward. Bella grabbed the flap before it could hit the ledge and break, shivering as the cold air swept into the room.
The space wasn't very big and at such an odd angle, Bella worried she might not make it. She threw her bag out first, the one now holding a second can of soda, extra socks and blanket before gripping the sides of the window to transfer her weight, her feet smudging the wall as she crawled up and out the window without an inch to spare.
It was really cold out here, maybe even more so than in the city at this time of year and Bella checked to make sure her jacket was fully zipped, her toes flexing in the comfy socks. Looking around one last time to make sure no one was watching, she slung the backpack over her shoulders before running towards the nearest area of forest, quickly disappearing into the greenery.