Author's Note: I torture myself with so many damn stories. None of them are really quite up to par, but I am trying to get a bit farther with each. One day I will have this fiction thing down. Until then, I hope to put a few fleeting smiles on the faces of those who read. A short intro, but I hope to get into some longer chapters in the future. Let's all hope this idea manages to carry.
Maddox was sleeping deeply, her breathing even, her hair tousled ever so slightly so that a few rebellious, tangled strands were upon her face. Alarm clocks were something of a joke to her; the even, monotonous droning had never been enough to rouse her from the nearly comatose, topsy-turvy sleep she found herself in each and every night.
The muscles in her left arm twitched ever so slightly, making her fingers grasp and relax. Her dreams were fleeting images, running before her slumbering eyes. William smiled at the familiar sight; he saw it all too often. She always seemed to sleep late.
"Sleepy Maddie, wake up," he whispered softly, shaking her shoulders gently. Her expression was one of annoyance as her eyes rolled open, revealing the emerald beneath. She groaned a bit dramatically and he smiled; a pure white revelation. "Your mom has gone through all the trouble of making us French toast. Sweet woman," he added; his voice warm and thick as honey with affection.
"Will, must you get here so bloody early?" she asked irritably. Her stomach growled in frustration and revealed that she was far more interested in the French toast than she let on. "Or did she call you in here early again?" she asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing on him as he moved to allow her room to stumble up out of the comfort of her bed. She shivered a bit as she left the encasement of seductively warm blankets.
"I promise you, I had no idea she was making such a scrumptious breakfast. I just knew you were fooling around at the party last night," he quipped, his eyes speaking the accusations that he did not verbalize.
She ignored his statement in her present state of sleepy stupor and moved towards the bathroom, running a brush through her tangled hair and throwing on a clean pair of pants. She shed her dirty shirt and tossed it towards her hamper without success. "Will, get me a shirt will you?" she yelled from behind the shield of the bathroom door.
With a skyward glance, he sifted through the dresser drawer containing her t-shirts, pulled one out, and put it into her awaiting hand. "Thank you," she told him sweetly as she popped around the doorway, still looking tired, but at least vaguely fitting into the 'awake' category.
"You weren't at the party last night," she told him matter-of-factly. "How should you know whether I fooled around with anyone? You never have any fun, Will. I am surprised I even call you a friend anymore; you're more like a taxi," she told him playfully as she nudged him playfully in the ribs.
"I don't like going out on full moons; all the loonies are out. It's never a safe night to drive. Especially with the drunken idiots you kiss on driving as if they're indestructible. I hope he didn't leave any unsightly marks on your necks like the last one," he said, testing her patience. She lifted her hair proudly, showing that no sign of him was physically apparent. William shook his head with a sigh.
"Keep it up, Maddie, and you'll have a bad reputation." She gave him an annoyed glance; did he think her that capable of dropping her standards? He could tell that she was hurt by such talk. "You know how guys are. Even if they get nothing from you they like to brag as if they did to keep their pride intact." He shook his head; he hated the perversion of the adolescent male brain. He, too, was male but he found himself largely different from the rest of his compatriots.
"I have you to vouch for me though," she replied with a dismissive shrug. The scent of French toast was wafting tantalizingly up the stairs. She grabbed her bag of books with a bit of a heave, but not before throwing on a sweatshirt. William frowned at the practice; he knew she only wore them as a security blanket to ensure that no one could ever discover any of her multiple bruises. She hated talking about it, though, so he avoided bringing up the subject.
Maddox slowly traipsed down the stairs and towards the kitchen where her mother smiled brightly over at the pair. She already had the places set at the table and had a little bottle of syrup set upon it to make the already vanilla enhanced toast a tad sweeter. "Good morning darling. What time did you get in last night?" she asked as she took her place at the table.
"Late. You guys were already asleep. Dad still asleep?" Maddox asked almost fearfully, her eyes meeting those of her mother with the tension of the truth spread between him. Her mother avoided the problematic discussion at hand and nodded. She quickly shifted the conflict; she did not want to talk about the abuse of her husband. She had covered the bruising on her shoulders with a red turtle neck sweater that made her look at least five years younger; William thought that she was stunning for an older woman.
"I hope you don't worry your parents as much as she worries me," she told Will with a soft smile. "Of course, I suppose it's a bit different with a girl. Girls seem so frail, really," her mother added with an almost sad look. William hated the sadness that was always apparent in the house. It didn't seem fair to him that one man could make two lives so very miserable.
"Of course not," he answered playfully. He knew that, in truth, he probably worried them more. He watched Maddox eat with interest. She cut each piece carefully, dipped it into the puddle of syrup on her plate, and placed it in her mouth; she let it sit there for several moments, as if she were absorbing the flavor of it like a sponge. He knew his eating did not look half so measured. He ate quickly and with vigor.
"Is my Maddox behaving herself?" the older woman asked with an appreciative smile at her nearly full grown daughter. Maddox's eyes rose to meet Will's beneath lowered, full lashes. Her eyes communicated for her, begging him not to speak of her relations with the boy at the party. He smiled at the desperation in her eyes; Maddie wanted so badly to please her mother, to keep her happy.
"For the most part," he answered truthfully before shoving another fork full into his mouth. He glanced at the clock hanging above the refrigerator and hurriedly shoved the remnants of his breakfast into his mouth; they wouldn't want to be late. "You have nothing to worry about. A bit of excitement is better than none, would be an appropriate expression." He smiled reassuringly; he could have sworn that Maddie breathed a sigh of relief.
"We've got to get going," Maddie said, dismissing the topic at hand, leaving half of her plate untouched. She kissed her mother's cheek after wiping her mouth of its sweet remnants. "Thanks for the breakfast. Love you," she said, hurriedly grabbing her things and nearly running for the door. Will smiled; she would do anything to avoid relationship talk.
"Thank you for breakfast; it was simply delicious," he echoed as he put on his leather jacket and pulled his keys from his pocket.
"Thank you for taking care of Maddie. It's nice to know she will have someone to turn to if anything were to happen to me," she answered with a somber smile. Her eyes communicated her near-depression and fearfulness. William had to look away; how could he not hate the man that Maddox called her father? Thinking of the man made his fists clench and his heart race. He left the kitchen wordlessly, with a nod towards Maddie's mother.
He got into the car with an amused glance towards Maddie who was already sitting in the passenger side. "Weren't in too much of a hurry, were you?" he asked with a straight face. She laughed a bit as he turned the keys in the ignition and the old piece of junk car rattled to life. She yawned and leaned back her seat a bit, wishing only that she had gotten five more hours of sleep than she had.
Will drove quietly, glancing towards the once again sleeping form of Maddox beside him. She was so close to him that her heart beat echoed in his head and that the scent of her danced upon his nostrils. His feral side loved her proximity, for she had always been an ideal mate. The human side of him, the side of him sitting beside her was obliged to agree. But he rationalized that he could not complicate things between him? Besides, there was a rather large obstacle in the way.
As a werewolf, he doubted that she would be half so accepting of him as she was when he was in human skin. But it would be a complete lie to say that he never dreamed of those milky fingertips playing over his skin and those dreamy eyes entrancing his senses. He shook his head dismissively and concentrated on the road. He tried to drive the wolf away, knowing that it would only return again that evening.
The loonies had been out last night. Problem was, he happened to among them; howling amongst their ranks.