Chapter 6: The Little Things

By then, having the little wolf around had become normal.

I hated admitting that.

When I woke in the morning, I expected to hear the familiar sound of chains outside my door.

When I entered the garden, I expected to find him somewhere nearby.

And when I returned to my room after tending the roses, I found myself wondering whether he had eaten.

It was irritating.

I had spent years learning not to depend on anyone.

Yet somehow, a werewolf I had initially considered nothing more than a convenient blood source had become part of my routine. I found myself worrying about his well-being and longing for his presence, which was odd.

One morning, I found him sitting beneath the rose-covered arch.

He was holding a small piece of bread.

I stopped.

"Where did you get that?"

He looked up.

"The kitchen."

"You stole it?"

He frowned.

"No."

"Then?"

"They gave it to me."

"They gave it to you or you got it from the kitchen? Which one is it?"

I stared at him after asking the question, and he didn't say a word.

He broke the bread in half.

Then he held one piece toward me.

I raised an eyebrow.

"What's that?"

"Food."

"I can see that."

"You haven't eaten."

I glanced at the bread.

Then at him.

"I ate this morning."

"That was yesterday."

I paused.

He was right.

I had been so occupied with the roses that I had forgotten.

I took the bread; our fingers brushed slightly, and I felt a warm sensation from my insides.

"Thank you."

He smiled.

"You're welcome."

I sat beside him.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

We simply ate.

It was strangely peaceful.

I looked down at the piece of bread in my hand.

Once, I had eaten at tables covered in gold and varieties of meals on one table.

Now I was sharing stale bread beneath a rose bush with a werewolf.

And somehow...

I preferred this.

It wasn't much, but it definitely felt more intimate than any form of bond I had with my father and brother. We were usually surrounded by servants and barely spoke to each other, especially my father; he was a man of few words.

I could feel his side eye on me whilst we ate the little piece of bread, but I simply ignored it.

"You're not a fast eater."

"I simply don't like rushing my food."

He stared at me.

"It's just a little piece of bread, you know."

"And?"

"You could finish it in a matter of seconds."

"I'll eat as I please."

I returned my attention to the piece of bread.

I finished the bread. I turned my gaze to him, and he seemed closer than he was before. He was breathing heavy; he was nervous, but why, I couldn't figure it out yet.

"What's wrong with you, little wolf?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine to me."

"I am."

Before I could get another word out, he was already in front of me. Our faces inches away from touching.

"What are you doing?" I said with my breath heavy.

"I don't know."

His face inched closer and closer to mine. He looked into my eyes, and for the first time I noticed his dark brown eyes. He touched my face and pulled me closer; our lips brushed. We both seemed desperate for more, but in that moment, a guard called out:

"It's time to return to your cells."

I quickly rose to my feet, leaving him behind. I didn't know how to react or what to say.