There is an unmistakable sense of contemplation in the human woman's mind from the moment she wakes up.
It is a simple deduction, just connecting the dots.
Just by her scent alone, I can tell.
The only reason I have to drag myself out of bed at 6 in the morning is that the human woman's distressing hormones permeate my entire house.
With the Alpha's hot temper and keen sense of smell, I waste no time in waking her up to prevent him from barging in and ruining my morning. I am already feeling absolutely horrible because I have to wake up early, and my body aches with exhaustion.
I don't need a young hormonal Alpha to add fuel to the fire.
On a typical day, I usually wake up at around noon.
I stay in bed until the sun sets, basking in the warmth of the fading sunlight, and only then does my day start. I'm not particularly fond of mornings, nor am I a fan of late nights. I find solace in the peacefulness of those few hours after the sun sets and before the moon graces the sky.
While it may not last long, those hours fill me with a surge of enthusiasm and invigoration. Such a schedule has become second nature to me.
Unfortunately, I am unable to do that at the moment.
Especially since I am stuck babysitting a human woman who has a habit of tapping her nails on any surface. As soon as the morning light touches my face, a wave of regret washes over me for making the offer of letting her stay with me. Provoking the young Alpha was my only intention; I had no ulterior motive involving the human woman.
I was getting bored, so I decided to do this activity to pass the time. I just didn't realize that it would consume all of my precious time. Caring for a human requires the same attention and effort as caring for five rowdy male pups.
It's draining and maddening.
I have to suppress a growl of frustration as I struggle to convince the human to leave the bed and join me for breakfast. That is another aspect to take into account. Given my solo living arrangement, my daily food intake usually consists of just one meal.
Despite being a werewolf, my appetite has decreased significantly since reaching my senile age. I'm now confronted with the challenge of cooking three nutritious meals per day, catering to the dietary needs of the woman and prioritizing her health.
I know that if I make a mistake and give her something horrible, the young Alpha's sharp teeth would tear into my flesh. Annoying him is already a difficult task for me. I don't want the whole situation adding to my frustration.
The young Alpha's fiery temperament makes it unlikely that the human woman would find anything endearing about him. With that in mind, I clear my throat, bringing myself back to the present moment.
It is something I should have done from the beginning.
I run my sharp nails through my hair, feeling the satisfying tug as they catch on the strands, and finally, I fix my gaze on the human woman sitting across from me.
Haven's face wears a vacant expression as she absentmindedly stirs her soup with a spoon.
Since waking up from her nightmare, the human woman has been mute, her words lost in the depths of her fear.
Her only response to being awakened was a quiet, muttered thanks, and she maintains a closed-mouth silence for the next hour. Even though I took care of everything - making our beds, washing her face, and cooking breakfast - the human woman remains completely silent.
Usually, it wouldn't matter to me. But the woman's well-being is my top concern, and if the young Alpha learns of her condition, I may find myself meeting the Moon Goddess sooner than I had anticipated.
Leaning back against my chair, I push my empty bowl in front of me and clear my throat, preparing to speak.
Even after taking those actions, the human woman remains fixated on her soup, not even taking a single bite, and stays silent.
Frustrated, I try again, forcing a louder cough to clear my throat. If the human woman hears me, she remains rooted to the spot, as if frozen in time. Grumbling under my breath, I finally feel my patience snap like a rubber band.
I lift my hand and give the table two firm knocks, the sound echoing in the room.
Finally, Haven jostles in place, her movements accompanied by a faint creaking sound.
As she faces forward, her eyes widen in surprise. Her eyes cloud with shame as she snaps back to reality, realizing she had been absentmindedly gazing at her food. Despite my lack of knowledge about human customs and table etiquette, I have a gut feeling that it transcends boundaries and is universally applicable.
Haven probably realizes she's being an irritating guest since she immediately offers a warm smile, her eyes crinkling with forced cheer, as she forcibly plunges a spoonful of hot soup inside her mouth. She swallows her food slowly, savoring every bite, but that's not what I desire.
No, I'm curious about why the woman seems so quiet and troubled.
Not 'cause it matters to me. No way, no how.
I'm just wondering. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Tell me what's bothering you, my dear."
I finally say, the sound of my sharp nails drumming on the table filling the room. Every click and clack makes Haven flinch and causes her to tense up in her seat. I pay her no mind, my gaze unwavering as I continue to stare at her until she gives up.
I expect the human to provide a straightforward answer, no need for hesitation.
Unless you tell me what's troubling you, sweetheart, I won't be able to offer much assistance. It seemed like you had one terrifying nightmare.
Then, finally, Haven averts her gaze, her lips moving silently as she mutters.
"It isn't a dream, Lydia."
Instantly, my curiosity is sparked. With a smile on my face, I lean my chin onto my palm and give her a nod. "Oh? Then what are you waiting for? Spare no detail and tell me everything about it."