Dies Irae

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Cinq

Marcus walked me up a flight of stairs. His place was huge and beautifully decorated. A rich red and light chestnut color covered the place.

“Ines,” he started, squeezing my hand.

I gazed up at him.

“For your sleeping arrangements, it is completely up to you, would you like to reside in my room or would you prefer your own sector that I’ll arrange for,” he asked me.

“Um…”

I had no clue.

“You still have time to decide,” he told me as he reached a door, “I’ll show you my room and then I can give you a tour of the pack,” he said.

I nodded, “okay.”

He waited for me to go in first as he held the door open for me.

“Merci,” I thanked him.

“That means thank you, correct?”

“Oui,” I smiled.

He smiled back, “you’re welcome.”

The room opened to this quaint lounge area, the chestnut color continuing in the room but the rich red was replaced with this beautiful sea green color. A huge window showed off the forests.

There was a desk to the right, sofas to the left with a rug laid down.

“I’ll show you to the bedroom,” he softly grabbed my hand, leading me to the left where there were two doors.

“That one,” he pointed to the one on the right, “leads to the bathroom.”

He opened the left door, again, allowing me to go in first.

A California king-sized bed was laid in the middle of the room, tan bedposts with light mint-colored sheets.

“If you look over there,” he pointed, “that leads into the closet and that door,” he pointed to the right, “also leads into the bathroom.”

I nodded along, indicating that I understood him.

He went to go show me the bathroom but I stopped in my tracks, my nose picking up a lingering scent.

I didn’t know exactly what it was but I knew it was a female’s scent. A female’s scent that wasn’t mine.

My face contorted to an offensive stare. He stopped when I wouldn’t move, looking down at me, confused at my expression.

“Ines?”

“You offered for me to stay here when other females have before?” I asked.

He blinked, not entirely getting what I was poking at.

“Oh!” he started, his tone indicating that he understood what I meant, “oh,” he realized it wasn’t a good thing.

“Oh,” I repeated.

“No, it’s not like that,” he was quick to tell me.

The scent was strongest on his bed and it irked me. So, so much.

“They were supposed to wash my sheets when I was away,” he told me, “but we came home earlier than I was supposed to. I didn’t mean to offend you, I’ll have them washed tonight,” he promised.

“Get rid of them!” I blurted out, feeling even more offended that he would keep sheets that other women slept on when he found his mate.

First off, wolves were territorial creatures. My instincts were howling, I felt angry about this and I rarely got angry. I was always a very calm woman. Second, I was not a virgin, that was gone a long time ago. I wasn’t particularly mad that he had sex, although the thought wasn’t sweet.

But the fact that he offered for me to sleep on unruly and heinous sheets that other women made dirty was so offensive to me.

It was like someone called me a flea-infested mutt and smacked my nose with newspaper but ten thousand times worse.

“Of course, dear, I am so sorry,” he rushed out, comfortingly squeezing my hand. “I’ll buy new ones, you can pick them out. In the meantime, you can stay in a room near mine,” he assured.

I nodded, quietly. I watched as his eyebrows creased.

“Ines, I do apologize, I didn’t mean to insult you, dear, I would never, I swear,” he stressed.

Again, I silently nodded.

He bit his lip before he turned around.

“Um, this is the bathroom, you can use whatever you wish or if you would like something, don’t hesitate to ask me, dear,” he opened the door to a light green bathroom.

It started with two sinks and there was an open threshold that led to a vast bath and a shower on two separate ends. There was another door and then the door that led to the living space.

“If you like, we can go get dinner since it is later, or I can have them send it up to your room if you would like to eat alone,” he offered.

“It doesn’t matter,” I responded quietly, shrugging.

“Okay,” he nodded and went to turn back out to his bedroom but his eyes met with the sheets.

Anger filled up in him. It was scary how quickly he got so mad. It alarmed me.

He simply looked at the sheets.

He was reminded that they bugged me and he grew annoyed.

“Marcus?” I asked, utterly confused why he was so mad over something like that.

I had a valid reason to. The only reason he could be mad would be because I was upset over them.

“Yes, dear?” he responded, turning around to look at me.

The anger in his eyes quickly dissolved, replaced with an affectionate look.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.

“Yes, dear,” he gave me a reassuring smile.

“But, you were angry?” I tilted my head.

He nodded, but his mind quickly came to the idea that he thought I was mad at him.

“Oh, Ines, I’m not mad at you, never, I’m sorry,” he quickly said.

I felt his emotions and state of mind. He felt like all he was doing was messing up and he hated that he couldn’t just say the right things.

It made me frown.

“I know,” I reassured him, squeezing his hand in mine, “but you got, um, strongly mad,” I told him.

My sentence felt off.

Strongly mad? That didn’t sound right.

He smiled at my words.

“Really mad, I apologize,” I shook my head.

“You’re fine,” he chuckled, “it’s cute.”

“Thank you,” I blushed.

“I wasn’t angry at you, dear,” he finalized before walking out the opposite door we came in.

He completely avoided his bedroom.

“Do you have any preferences for dinner?” he asked me as he opened the door to the hallway, waiting for me to go first.

“No,” I answered politely, shaking my head.

“Okay,” he nodded, “I’ll show you to your room, tell the cooks what to make, and then come get you?”

He waited for my input. I simply nodded.

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