Marked In Flesh (The Others #4) - Anne Bishop Page 0,2
a little more sleep. But the thoughts were excellent hunters and devoured sleep.
We will give you some time to decide how much human the terra indigene will keep.
For the past week, he’d made excuses to himself and the rest of the Courtyard’s Business Association, and they had let him make those excuses because none of them—not Vlad or Henry or Tess—wanted to tell Meg what was truly at stake now. But time, like Meg’s strange, fragile skin, was not something he could afford to waste.
Rolling the other way, Simon stared at the window. As he raised his head, his ears shifted to Wolf shape, pricking to better catch the sounds outside.
Sparrows. Those first sleepy chirps that announced the dawn when the sky began its change from black to gray.
Morning.
Pushing aside the tangled sheet, Simon hustled into the bathroom to pee. As he washed his hands, he glanced over his shoulder. Did he need to shower? He bent his head and gave himself a sniff. He smelled like a healthy Wolf. So he would shower later when he’d have to deal with more than the one human who was his special friend. Besides, she wouldn’t be taking a shower either.
He took a step away from the sink, then stopped. Skipping a shower was one thing, but the human mouth in the morning produced scents strong enough to discourage close contact.
Loading toothpaste onto his toothbrush, Simon studied his reflection while he cleaned his teeth. Dark hair that was getting shaggy—he’d need to do something about that before the Courtyard’s guests arrived. Skin that had browned a bit from working outside without a shirt on. And the amber eyes of a Wolf. Human skin or Wolf form, the eyes didn’t change.
He rinsed out his mouth and started to put the toothbrush back in the medicine chest above the sink. Then he looked at his reflection and lifted his lips to reveal his teeth.
No, the eyes didn’t change when he shifted to Wolf, but . . .
Shifting his head to Wolf form, he loaded the toothbrush with toothpaste a second time and brushed the other, better, set of teeth. Then he growled because a Wolf’s mouth wasn’t designed to rinse and spit. He ended up leaning over the sink and pouring cups of water over his teeth and tongue so no one would think he was foaming at the mouth.
“Next time I’m just chewing a twig as usual,” he grumbled when he shifted back to fully human.
Returning to the bedroom, he pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Then he stepped to the window and put his face close to the screen. Cool enough outside for socks and sneakers—and a sweatshirt since they would be walking at Meg’s speed, not his.
He finished dressing, then grabbed his keys out of the dish on his dresser and went out the door in his apartment that opened onto the back hallway he shared with Meg. He unlocked her kitchen door and opened it carefully. Sometimes she used the slide lock as extra security, and breaking her door by accident would just cause trouble.
He’d caused enough trouble the time he’d broken the door on purpose.
No slide lock. Good.
Simon slipped into Meg’s kitchen and quietly closed the door. Then he headed for her bedroom.
A light breeze coming through the partially opened window played with the summer curtains the female pack—Meg’s human friends—had helped her purchase and hang. The morning light also came through the window, giving him a clear look at the woman curled up under the covers.
Was she cold? If he’d stayed with her last night, she wouldn’t be cold.
“Meg?” Cautious, because she could kick like a moose when she was scared, he gave her shoulder a little push. “Time to wake up, Meg.”
She grunted and burrowed under the covers until only the top of her head showed.
Wrong response.
Holding out one hand to block a potential kick, Simon laid the other hand on her hip and bounced her against the mattress a couple of times.
“What? What?” Meg struggled to sit up, so he obligingly grabbed her arm and pulled.
“Time to wake up.”
“Simon?” She turned her head and blinked at the window. “It’s still dark.” She flopped down on the bed and tried to pull up the covers.
He grabbed the covers, and the brief game of tug had her sitting upright again.
“It’s not dark; it’s just early,” he said. “Come on, Meg. We’ll take a walk.”
“It’s not morning. The alarm clock didn’t go off.”