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"You're the only one who lives here?" I checked my understanding of round two in our wolfy game of charades.
He bobbed his head.
"You eat this much food?" I gestured to the fridge again.
He bobbed again.
"Damn. Werewolves must have massive grocery bills." I turned back to the fridge. Down on the dinner shelf, I saw what looked like leftover pizza and grabbed it.
After I heated it up, I demolished three pieces without even pausing to sit down at the table and get off my throbbing feet, and then groaned.
So full.
The wolf growled at me.
"What are you grumping about now?" I shot him a tired stare.
He went up on his back legs, leaned over the table, and caught the bag of pizza between his teeth. Dragging it over to me, he set it on my plate and nodded toward it.
"You want me to eat more?" My eyebrows lifted.
He nodded again.
"I'm stuffed. I'll puke if I eat anything else.”
He looked concerned.
When had I decided he could look concerned?
When had I decided he had real, human emotions at all?
Dammit, I was already going all Stockholmy.
A massive yawn stopped my thoughts in their tracks.
The only bed in the house belonged to Jesse, and I was not sleeping in my kidnapper's bed, regardless of what form he was in.
I looked around the kitchen again, and my eyes caught on the calendar. It had been Tuesday night when I was abducted, which meant I'd already missed my Wednesday classes. It would be hard to make up for missing one day considering I was enrolled in a shitload of classes, but I could handle it. If I missed Friday too, that would be much more difficult.
But I was escaping in the very near future, so I told myself it wouldn't be a problem.
I tossed the rest of the pizza leftovers back in the fridge and shuffled to the living room. The couch in there had been comfortable, so it would be fine for a nap. I would wake up while Jesse was still asleep, and then I'd take his car and get the hell out of Moon Ridge before any more shit happened.
I sprawled out on the generous-sized couch, lying on my side and curling my stomach up against the back cushions. The couch smelled good—really good.
I didn't want to consider who had sat on it to make it smell so good.
Shutting my eyes, I waited for sleep to take me. Just as I started to fall asleep, there was a dip in the couch near my feet. A warm weight brushed against the bottoms of them, and I winced at the pain that ensued.
The weight disappeared instantly, and a soft whine left the wolf as he moved.
I started to drift off again, and then the couch dipped at my back. Furry heat rested against me, and it felt heavenly.
But I was going to resist Stockholm Syndrome if it killed me.
"Get off." My first command was firm, but not cruel.
The wolf whined and didn't move.
