Someone was in the kitchen. Growling, heavy breathing, scratching, moans of distress—I'd heard it all until it grew unbearable to listen to—without my unsettled paranoia working its way through me under the blankets. Seconds ticked on. Those seconds soon turned into minutes until I had enough of the noises.

I tore the blankets off of my body and settled onto the floor with my feet. Vincent's room was a few doors down. His office was in the corner at the end of the hall, a few doors further down from both of our rooms. However, he wasn't inside either rooms when I'd checked. Well actually, both doors were locked, so I assumed he wasn't hiding out inside either room.

It wasn't unusual for Vincent to stay up late for most of the night. For humans, that would have most likely been considered insomnia. For wolves though, I knew wolves to be nocturnal animals. Therefore, it could've been either reasoning when it came to Vincent. Either way I knew I'd have heard him shifting around if he was inside either of those rooms.

I kept quiet, crouching down the steps. My shoulder brushed against the brown paint as my hands slid down the rail. I couldn't stop the muscles in my body from clenching due to what sounded like metal clashing against the floor. Pots, pans, all kinds of dishes. The noises made my ears wiggle around. When I stepped onto the ground floor, the noises stopped.

I rounded the corner near the kitchen entrance. My hand slipped into my pajama pants pocket for my phone. When I'd grabbed a hold of it, I turned on the flashlight setting, and peeked into the kitchen with caution.

"F-fuck, I hate when that happens." Someone coughed. The first thing I spotted was the spine shifting back into place under someone's skin. Their bones popped with a low crackling noise.

His body stumbled forward then back on the tip-toes of his feet. A hand clutched onto the edge of the kitchen counter, its long, thin fingers scratching to hold onto the surface in a firm grip. His back was facing me and his black curls were a sweaty mess, sticking to the side of his head. But I could still make out his silhouette.

"Vincent?" My eyebrows shot up. "What the hell are you doing?"

I wasn't sure what possessed me to move closer but I wasted no time in rushing forward. My bare feet slapped against the floor of the kitchen, numbing my soles with its cool touch. I was now close enough to see every tiny detail on the back of his neck. I turned the flashlight setting off and placed my phone back into the pocket of my pajama pants.

"I-I could ask you . . . the same thing," he panted without looking at me, "I smelled you as you were walking down the stairs."

Whatever fur was left on him from his wolf cleared from his skin until it had regressed back into his pores. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the counter. His bare body was crouched into a fetal position. However, his butt wasn't touching the floor. He's naked again, he's naked again, he's naked again, I forced my intrusive thoughts aside and focused.

"Me? Well, I was just coming down here to make sure no one was trying to break in. I thought an intruder entered your house! You were so noisy, it scared me out of my sleep." I let out a quiet sigh, dragging my hands over my bonnet to pull it off. As soon as it slid down my face, I yanked on my curls, playing with the ends of them.

"An intruder on the estate without permission? Not unless they have a death wish." I heard a low, deep, almost inaudible chuckle echo from his chest. "I came in through the tunnels."

"Oh. Well, I mean, Lady Teresa walked in here not too long ago and scared the crap out of me. . . So, better safe than sorry, right?" I shrugged and crossed my arms.

"With permission," he added.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, you're right. With permission," I said, waving his words off.

"Besides, if I were an intruder, I'd have probably caught you by the throat already. You didn't exactly come down prepared. . ." he said, his eyes glancing over at my empty hands. "And I doubt you'd have made it far because you still haven't brushed up on your self-defense skills yet. And they suck. A lot."

"Hey, they're not that bad. . ." I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, frowning at him.

"Suurree, they're not," he dragged his words out and rolled his eyes.

"Sheesh, of course, they're not! You just like to exaggerate. Such a drama queen"—I scoffed and tapped my phone screen—"whoa, what the hell? Vincent, it's five in the morning!"

"Shit. Are you serious?" He scowled. "We've been out there for a little longer than I anticipated then."

"Wait, you were still outside all this time? Did you eat? Sleep? Anything? And what's this? Did you hurt yourself again?" I shot out question after question.

Before I realized what I was doing, I noticed my hand reaching for his bruised shoulder. His sweaty skin was as cool as frost yet my skin burned on contact. It reminded me of when our hands touched. His skin was warm. No. It was hot. But it was a comforting heat that I wouldn't have let go of, under any normal circumstances.

What the hell was I thinking?

I shook those thoughts out of my head. The side of his jaw clenched as the rest of his body tensed under my touch. I paused mid-movement. My eyes widened and I caught myself, retreating back like someone lit flame to my fingers. Shit, and what the hell was I doing? Oh gosh, I got too caught up in the moment. I felt like a dumbass.

"S-sorry! That was a n-natural reaction." I clasped my hands together in front of me, to refrain from soothing the heat crawling up the back of my neck.

The only thing I could hear was my heart picking up speed. Could he hear it? No, I didn't think so. But what if he did? Fuck. Geez, what the hell was wrong with me anyways? All I had done was touch him. I wished my emotions would cool it. Damn, distracting myself by fidgeting with my hands wasn't working either. All was quiet between us for another minute or so.

Vincent turned his head so that I was looking at his face, and said, "It's . . . okay. Don't worry about it. . . Wait, hold on a second. Did you just refer to me as a drama queen?" I couldn't help the smirk that cracked on my face at his comment.

I shrugged. "What? You act like one sometimes." He narrowed his eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look. I know I'm dramatic sometimes. But you're no better than I am," I stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Tch, as if," he snarled.

"See? You're being dramatically defensive right now," I defended.

All he had done was snarl again, proving my point. Following his snarl, was a soft sigh. His free hand was now pressing on the bruise on his shoulder that I had touched. He groaned and clucked his tongue against the root of his mouth.

"I need to get upstairs. I'd suggest you close your eyes, or turn around and move."

"Wait, what?" The words couldn't have come out any faster.

"Upstairs. You're standing in my way. I can't walk around you with my anatomy hanging out, remember? Unless you'd like to get an eye full now?" he said, dragging his words out.

I'd noticed his right eyebrow raising up, as if he was waiting on me to make a decision. He seemed like he wanted to smirk. The right corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly. But he didn't dare act on it. At least I knew I wasn't the only one who didn't know how to react here.

His body trembled while he stumbled to his feet, using his palms as leverage to hold up his weight. There was a clear image of his butt facing my direction. But I didn't realize it until he began to turn. I saw a glimpse of his tattoo, then followed the trail to his hips. That was enough to snap me out of it before I looked any lower beneath his waist.

"Oh, uh, right. My bad." I spun around, staring up at the ceiling. My face felt hot.

"Yeah." There was a hint of humor in his voice, but again, he didn't act on it.

I'd have probably been a fool to think he wanted too though. Or maybe I wasn't imagining things. I could hear his breathing growing uneven as he sucked in the laughter, back to his chest, swallowing it down enough to cause him to cough.

I felt his body heat caress the back of my neck as he slipped past me. "Um, are you sure you don't need any help?" I asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

"You're not dying again, are you?"

"No, Genesis." I caught him shaking his head.

"Just making sure!" I called back.

"If I'm dying, you'll be the first person I call for."

"Really?"

"No. That was sarcasm."

I scoffed. "Remember, I'm the only person who's here with you day in and day out! Let's see how fast your guards or anyone else find out if you're dying. Your life is in my hands, buddy!"

"Okay. I'll be sure to remember that," was the last thing I heard him say, with another lick of sarcasm easing through his voice. Then, I heard a soft click, indicating a door had closed and locked. Not before my ears picked up on the little bit of laughter down the hall.

Everything else went quiet again. I sniffed the trail he left behind in the kitchen. There were traces of his natural odor. I hadn't smelled any blood on him when he walked by. I noticed a few more bruises. But that was all. Maybe they'd been running around all night and he was just aching. I didn't know. I guess he was telling the truth then. He wasn't dying.

"Thank goodness." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Damnit, I forgot to ask if they had found anything of use for the arising problems happening lately.

"Oh well," I muttered to myself, "oh, what's this?" My eyes landed on the pack of ice on the counter. I hadn't noticed it there before. It was melting. I looked at the stairs, then back at the ice pack. He must've taken it out and forgot it.

"Hmm. . ." I jogged up the stairs, grabbed my sketch pad and pencil, before running back downstairs for the ice pack.

Hey, you forgot this in the kitchen. Reminder - don't forget to put it on your shoulder or that'll look ugly when you wake up. Not that I care, but I know you'll go to sleep and forget. So, do it before you go to sleep. Okay? Okay.

Sincerely,

Genesis

After writing a note, I ripped the page out of the book, and ran back upstairs. I gave his door three hard knocks then sped back into my room, leaving the note and the ice pack on the floor. From what I could hear, he opened his door. I didn't hear anything else after that. But I heard his door close again moments later.

When I peeked my head out, I checked both ways. The hallway may have been dark, but I could make out that there was nothing in front of his room door. The ice pack and the note were gone from the floor. I smiled and closed the door back.

* * *

Now that I was awake, I could no longer sleep. I found myself staring at the ceiling for the last hour and a half, waiting for Dimitri and Dylan to retrieve me for training. However, that time never came.

"What the heck is this? No, that's not it. . . Okay, I don't think so. . . Damn, I don't think this is it either. . ." Scrolling through several pages of Google was useless. I'd made sure to search different title's—shadow demons, shadows, shadow creatures—however, the results were filled with video games, fantasy card games, and whatever else I couldn't rely on.

"Okay, maybe I should take a different approach—whoa, hey! No, stop that. Did you just freeze?" I gaped at my little phone screen, frozen in my hands. "Oh, for fucks sake." I tossed my phone aside. My fingers were starting to cramp around the small device and my thumb ached.

Maybe this was a sign it was time for a break.

I rolled myself off the bed, staggering to the door.

It was half past seven in the morning. The hallway was quiet. Streams of sunlight hit the top of the stairs through the window, at the far-end of the hallway. Towards the back end, where Vincent's rooms were, it was dark. Nonetheless, I began heading for the bathroom. When I arrived in front of the bathroom, the sink was running.

"It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyways. . . I know, I know. . . Listen, I'm fine. I don't need sleep right now, Mariah." I heard a groggy voice through the door. My eyebrows knitted together as I took a step forward.

"Anyways, what do you have to tell me? . . .Wilfred's body? What about it?" Vincent's voice was suddenly less groggy, more alert now. "So, I was right? Shit. Alright."

I remembered the name Wilfred. That was the elder wolf's body they found in the woods who started the chain of deaths. Vincent suspected that his death wasn't an accident. Mariah hadn't been sure. Judging by the sound of their conversation now, it sounded like it'd been settled.

"He was scared into a cardiac arrest? Something literally scared him to death then. . . Okay, don't say anything to anyone yet. . . What? Lichen pack? What about them? Yes. Alpha Kai should still be arriving at noon, as far as I know. . . He said it's a serious matter.

"So, I assume whatever information he has, can help us too. We'll start preparing things for them here an hour before then. . . Okay, try not to think too much about it. I agree, we have much to discuss during this meeting. . . Okay Mariah. See you then."

Silence struck me first. The door unlocking struck me second. I had almost twisted my ankle trying to turn away from the door. However, I heard it creaking open before I had a chance. The following events were a quick blur.

"For someone who cries so much innocence, why is it you're always up to no good?" I glanced down at Vincent's arm, wrapped tightly around my waist, tucking me into his side before I hit the ground.

"In my defense, I was just waiting for you to come out. . ."

"Is that so?" He crossed his arms. "Long enough to hear all of that, right?"

"It was an accident. I swear! I had to pee." I defended myself. "Um anyways, what happened to Dylan and Dimitri?"

"No training today. Take the day off," he responded.

"Oh. Is it because of your company?"

"Yes. Try not to get in the way, yeah?"

"When do I ever get in the way of your important stuff?" Vincent shot me a look that shut me up. "Right. Okay. Noted. Won't interrupt your stuff. I promise."

"I'm serious, Genesis."

"I know, I know. I'll keep myself busy. You know, trying to clear my name still," I hummed.

He nodded slowly and sent me a blank stare. But I could tell his eyes were studying my face. I saw a bandage over his shoulder, under the dark green t-shirt he had on. It looked neat, like he had practice. He listened to me for once. I guess he did take my note to heart.

I tried to push what happened a few hours ago out of my head. But looking at him brought the memories back, including the string of squeamish emotions in my chest. When it got to the point, I thought he was staring for too long, I played with the end of my curls, avoiding his eyes.

"Okay, um, if we're done here. . . I'm just going to use this. Then, go back in the room, yeah?" I slid behind him into the bathroom.

He seemed to have snapped out of it and nodded in agreement. "Yeah. And remember what I told you," was the last thing he said, as he walked down the hall in long strides.

I didn't get the chance to respond.