Page 20 of Widow

Chapter 5

Camellia

My eyes opened slowly. I didn't think I had ever slept so hard before. Everything over the past few days was catching up to me. The recent murder. The new men in my life. My new roommate.

It felt warmer in the bed than usual. I could feel something next to my legs, and I turned my head to look over my shoulder.

What the fuck?

My heart nearly jumped into my throat as I watched each breath move its hairy body. It was as black as night and as big as a Great Dane. I stiffened under the covers, not knowing what course of action to take. It's not like you wake up every day to a giant wolf sleeping in the bed next to you.

As if sensing my unease, the wolf uncurled from its position and made a satisfied noise in its throat. Its eyes opened, and it looked right at me, its green eyes sparkling in the faint light from the window.

Part of me knew that it was Ric, but also, part of me didn't want to believe that it was him. The green eyes staring back at me were the exact same shade of green that had stared at me the night before.

My hand went to my chest and searched for the pendant he had given me as a Christmas present. I don't know why I had put it on and worn it to bed, but I had.

I looked back at the wolf, and he seemed to be smiling at me, his teeth showing. It was either a smile or a warning that I was about to become his breakfast.

"Hey there, buddy. Didn't anyone ever tell you that dogs aren't allowed on the furniture?" Yup, that's precisely what you should say to a meat-eating wild animal.

His wolfish grin dropped, and he narrowed his eyes at me. His tail wagged back and forth on the comforter. He stood from his spot and stretched out his body before shaking like a dog.

I had always laughed at the memes of people bringing wolves and coyotes into their homes, thinking they were dogs. Now here I was, conversing with an extraterrestrial wolf in my bed.

"I hope you know that you're cleaning up whatever hair mess you make." I looked down at the comforter to see some of his black wolf hair. There were several reasons I didn't have pets, and the hair was one of them. I didn't even own a lint roller.

Picard jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. My door was open. I remembered locking it and then double-checking to make sure.

"You're a bad boy. You can't just break into a woman's room and sleep with her." I was talking to a wolf that couldn't talk back. He tilted his head to the side and moved forward on the bed to stand over me. Was he about to bite my face off?

Instead, he gave my face a lick. Gross.

"Ugh! Get off the bed, you mangy mutt."

Instead of jumping off the bed, he put his butt in the air and wagged his tail like he wanted to play. Now, not only did I have an unwelcome roommate, but I also had two pets. A monkey and a wolf.

"You want to play, boy?" I couldn't help but talk to him like he was a dog. I was probably offending him in some way, but I didn't care. They had inserted themselves into my life and made it even more evident that I was losing my mind.

I got out of bed and made my way down the hall. He followed close behind me, right on my heels. If he sniffed my butt, it was going to be over.

He trotted over to his duffle bag and gave it a nudge with his snout. I unzipped it, and he rummaged in it with his nose before pulling out the tennis ball in his mouth.

"There really isn't anywhere to play ball here. How about this: after I take a shower, I'll go to the store and buy a leash and collar. Then we can go to the dog park and play. How does that sound?"

Picard was making noises on the counter. I looked in his direction, and he was holding a pen and writing with it. It was funny to watch him because the pen was bigger than he was. Of course the monkey could write.

I approached him and looked down at the dirty paper plate he was writing on. I really needed to have a talk with Ric about cleaning up after himself. I wasn't his maid.

Picard put the pen down and looked up at me. I grabbed the plate and was surprised that his writing was actually legible. It looked like a first grader had written it, but it was nothing that I wasn't used to seeing. Doctors were notorious for their bad handwriting.

He's supposed to shift two or three times a week, but he's been fighting it since we've been here on Earth. He thinks if he fights it enough, then he won't have to shift anymore. He's wrong. So every few weeks, his body forces him to, and he's stuck in his wolf form for a few days.

I didn't know whether to be in awe or frightened over the string of words that the monkey had written. I had thought Ric was just pretending that he could understand him, but maybe they could actually communicate with each other in some kind of special animal language.

I looked over at Ric, who had jumped on the couch and was chewing on his tennis ball. "Ric! Get off the couch!"

He made a sound of protest in his throat and jumped down. He walked over to me, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor, and dropped his tennis ball at my feet.

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