The sound of prison doors being unlocked and opened widely, woke Jeremy up. Taking note of the pale yellow light that had meandered its way from the corridors of the prison yard to his cell through the little openings on his prison door, he was sure that it was morning, and the noises made by the other occupants of the prison yard confirmed his notion. Another day as a slave. Another day to labour.
Until when? He asked himself, turning aside to gaze fondly at Olivera who was sleeping beside him, her face void of worries like she had no care in the world, like she wasn't going to be picked up today by the infamous Alpha known for his ruthlesness across the regions.
He thought it better that she wasn't allowing her seizures to control her. He acknowleged this feat of hers as an effect of the doctor's advice; and for that he was grateful to the man whom he had not yet seen, for taking in his best friend as his daughter. He was immensely grateful.
A smile found its way across his lips as he watched her stir and mutter in her sleep.
What was she dreaming about now? He mused, still watching her. Her dreams, for some reasons, always ticked his fancy, especially the one where she sees herself, well, according to her, some woman that looked just like her holding hands with a beautuful man(note, in her words though). She never for once, acknowledged that she was the beautiful woman in the dream. He didn't see the dream with her, but through her descriptions and many a tale, he was sure that she was the lady. She was beautiful as it was now; he wondered why she didn't know it.
And then there was the ever present beautiful man. He actually detested him. The man who held her affection. Although they had agreed to be best friends, and were really best friends, he sometimes wished that they were more. He held out hope for the possibility that she would find her wolf(or vice versa), and that they would turn out to be mates. If not, why does his heart skip at the mere sight of her. He didn't feel that way towards other girls, even if they were sprawled out naked in front of him.
Of course he was no saint. He had had his taste of wordly pleasures, before and after meeting her. Alhough, its rate had decreased with time till it was no more. Now, he didn't care a hoot about any girl, apart from her.
Her.
His eyes drifted from her closed eyelids to her pointed, well sculptured nose, then to her lips. Recently, he had found himself wondering how her lips would taste like. Would it be as sweet as her personality was? As fiery as her temper? Or as hot as her pancakes? Sadly, he would never know. They were best friends, nothing more. The thought irked him. It hadn't occured to him to tell her about his feelings because she was innocent and proper, and also knew the way and lives of werewolves even if she hadn't one. She knew the topic of mates. He believed that she would never agree to date him for fear of heartbreak. He had to admit that it was the core reason for his hesistaion, the reason he was holding back on his feelings. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't think he would be able to forgive himself if he finally yokes them in love, only for his mate to come along later. No, his heart wasn't strong for that. He would rather wait it out. Who knows? His mate might come along soonest, and the feelings would be quenched.
Yes, wait. He would wait. He decided, curbing and subduing the temptation to peck her on the lips as she slept fitfully.
Last night, he had been hanging on a thin thread as he had held her to himself to keep her warm. It had been better that she had turned her face to the wall. If she had been facing him, he was sure that he would have lost his sense of good reasoning and willpower to resist. He would have kissed her. Although he would have liked it then, he was sure that he might feel guilty and stupid later.
The unlocking of their own prison door dragged him away from his thoughts.
Quickly, he tapped Olivera on the arm.
"Hey, wake up. We've got to be going." He whispered, getting his mouth close to her ears so that she could hear, well, at least that's what he believed.
The door opened, and the man from last night-what did Olivera call him again? Leonard? Yes, Leonard stepped into the room.
Immediately, he entered, his eyes ran to Olivera.
"Wake her up. I don't think she would like my method of doing so." He said, after replying with a nod to his greeting.
So, Jeremy complied. He tapped Olivera on the arm more than three times before she even stirred again.
"Olivera!" Leonard shouted, obviously tired of Jeremy's unsuccessful waking method, and immediately Olivera's eyes jumped open.
She sat up in the space of no time, her eyes slow but alert as she drank in the sight of Jeremy, Leonard, and the room.
When she saw that there was no cause of alarm as she had earlier thought(for her name being shouted that way had ticked off alarming bells in her dream state. She hadn't been able to resist not waking up, for fear of entering and swimming in trouble. She had thought that the taskmistress was upon her.); she cussed, glaring at Leonard who just shrugged.
"Your friend had been trying to wake you unsuccessfully, so I had to come in; or would you have preferred Francis to do so?" Leonard asked, amused when he saw her face blanch at the mention of Francis. Of course, she would prefer him anyday to the monster. He was sure of it. Her facial expresson now, confirmed it too.