Page 14 of Golden Desires

This collection of scents reminds me of comforting nights beside the fire with my mother. Sitting in her lap as she rocked me in her favorite chair, reading me tales of adventure, and singing about love. For reasons I can’t explain, but feel so natural, I let my eyes fall closed, and breathe in deeply once more. I want to wrap myself up in the aroma. What is this feeling?

My eyes pop open, and I look around. This place smells like home. What an odd thought.

I’m in a daze as I walk over to the large dining table that has been carved with care. Images across the surface show bear-like creatures in the forest, sleeping in a cave, and curved around a smaller creature. At the center of the table, a cluster of twinkling stars surrounds an elaborate crescent moon, polished to a gleam. My hands can’t help but trace the largest monstrous form at the corner of the table. The craftsmanship here puts anything my father ever made to shame. There is love in each mark, a sense of devotion that turns a simple table into a work of art.

“Beautiful,” I whisper, feeling suddenly emotional. I want to know the person capable of creating something so special. Hell, I want to steal this table, and take it with me to my new home. Admiration turns to sadness in an instant as the reality of my life hits me in a new light.

I’m free, for now… I’m safe, for today… But I have no home…

Shaking off the overwhelming feelings, I continue my exploration. The beautiful table sits just beside the kitchen area, where the window that had blinded me rests above a long wooden counter. There are herbs hanging from the large area above the window, in organized rows. Open shelving holds a neat stack of dishes and cups. It’s clear to me that this is a well cared for home, filled with love. At least, what I imagine love like this might look like. It’s been so long since my mother died, and her home was filled with cruelty and pain after, that I can hardly remember what it felt like before.

At the end of the kitchen, three different chairs sit in front of a large hearth surrounding a knitted rug. Each has somewhat of a unique style, large but very cozy looking. Even with my height, I think my feet would dangle off the ground. I notice a fourth, much smaller chair, that is slightly hidden behind the others. It's more my size.

I nibble my lip. It couldn’t hurt to sit for a moment, could it?

Walking over to the largest chair, I admire the way the wood is carved and marked. I’d need to hop to get into a comfortable position in it, so I move to the next.

“Too large, too hard…” I give the middle seat a push with my uninjured hand, frowning. The wood seems denser than the first. The third of the larger chairs has several pillows and blankets in it. I consider curling up there, to wait for the owner of this home, but decide I’m better off in the Goldie sized chair. “Just right,” I sigh, as I sink into the seat.

I rock slowly, allowing the motion to soothe me. It’s nice. I’m about to curl my legs up, when I see an even more enticing place to park my bottom.

The alcove in front of the large bay window holds a deep seat, and either side of the wooden walls has shelving stuffed with leather-bound books. There are a few framed charcoal drawings that make little sense when up close, but from a distance they look like a meadow. Another is a crude drawing of three large figures surrounding a smaller woman. I would guess it was done by a child. I cannot help but picture myself sitting among these cushions, lazing the day away. I sit down, wiggling my butt a bit, and smile. Very cozy.

A glance through the window reveals a grassy meadow with some small buildings that remind me of sheds in the distance. I search the area for signs that someone is out there, but don’t see anyone. Rather than venture outside, I head back toward the clever tunnel entrance. From this side it looks like any door, but there is a bar that can be dropped across it. The owner must not be home, if it was left open.

I nibble my lip, looking around again. I’m intruding…overstepping. Invading someone's personal space…

But as long as I take nothing, is there any harm in exploring while I wait for them to return? I want to see more of this home. What would the bedroom of a well-loved place such as this look like?

Down a short hallway, I find six doors along the walls, with the last being at the very end.

Checking over my shoulder, and feeling as if I’m doing something naughty, I open the first door to reveal a large bathing chamber with a beautiful privacy screen. The rock walls have been polished in places, allowing veins of Jasper to give them a green appearance. A copper tub, large enough to fit an Alpha or two, sits along the wall by a low bench. I avoid the vanity’s mirror as I turn back to the hallway.

I am greeted with the scent of leather and clover when I enter the second room. Cozy, the room holds an unmade bed with a gray cover pushed to the bottom. A shelf along the top of the rock surfaced wall holds a collection of feathers in various sizes and colors. I spot a soft-looking sweater hanging off a hook on the wall next to the small clothes' chest, that causes my inner Omega to perk up. When I reach forward to touch the fabric, the need to wrap myself in the softness and that scent overwhelms me.

I consider taking it…but if the person who it belongs to shows up right now, I’d have no explanation…no way to deny that I was just snooping through their things.

I head into the room across the hall. Unlike the room before, this one has a small window that lets in the afternoon light. Sharp notes of cracked pepper catch my attention as I take in the collection of plants on the shelf by the bed. The wood walls to the right of the door have a few shelves holding a collection of jars.

As I step further into the room, I spot an open chest with folded clothing inside it.

I can see a pair of chunky knit socks right on top. I let out a whine, my desire to steal the socks is even more overwhelming than my need for the sweater… I could hide them before anyone notices they’re missing. A tightness in my chest has me acting before I can think this through. I kick off my shoes and pull the socks onto my feet. What the fuck is happening to me? I’ve never stolen anything in my life. What has gotten into me?

The comfort of the scents in this room are going straight to my head. Or maybe it’s the pain in my wrist finally making me delirious.

Behind the next door, I find a simple bedroom that holds the scent of strong cedar and rain. It has little else, but an overly large bed made up with green blankets and a small shelf holding a collection of wooden figures. I would guess that they are from the same person who made the table, based on the craftsmanship.

The knitted throw at the end of the bed keeps catching my eye, I try to take several deep breaths to clear out this persistent need to take the damn thing. I’m not a thief! But maybe if I just…borrow the items…

I leap forward, snatch up the blanket with my good hand, and tug it around myself as best I can with one arm. The soft green texture holds the scent of rain, and I immediately respond with a soft purr. The sound takes me by surprise. I’ve never felt comfortable enough to let my Omega instincts take over. To give into my most basic desires.

It’s been a very long time since someone's scent made me feel a sense of safety. Anything other than fear and disgust is a distant memory.

Resigned to the idea that my instincts are in control, and taking over, I rush back into the first room, before grabbing the sweater I originally denied myself and use it as a pillow. I curl up in the bed, being extra careful not to squish my injured wrist. The overwhelming need to sleep forces me under, and I couldn’t stay awake even if I tried.

Chapter Eight

Cillian

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