Page 56 of Cursed Beasts

The room was unfamiliar as I looked at the dimly lit room. My head was pounding, I was hungry and very thirsty. I rubbed my eyes to drive the sleep away while I figured out why I was in this room and not my own.

A knock came from the door and in came Mr. Potter with a tray.

“Ah I was hoping you would be awake. You’ve been asleep for almost fifteen hours.” He walked over to the side of the bed I was on, and I realized just how big it was.

“Whose room is this?” I asked, looking around to see if I could spot anything that could show whose room it was, but it looked barren with no decor.

“Yours,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Uh, I know I fell three stories, but I did not hit my head that hard,” I said.

“No, I’ve moved you in here.” He lit a few more candles and I really got a good look at what the room looked like.

It was triple the size of the room I had, with a small seating area in the corner and a set of doors that looked like they went out to a balcony.

“You’ve had this room the whole time, and I was stuck in a shitty room,” I snapped. “No wonder I slept almost sixteen hours. This is an actual bed instead of a shitty lumpy mattress that felt like they made it with cotton and straw.”

“I’m sorry, I should have fought for your room to be changed sooner,” he looked at me apologetically. “This is usually the room we offer to the Belladonnas, but this time, the men thought you should have awful accommodations.”

I clenched my jaw to keep from lashing out at him.

All I needed was rest and then I could get back to my research, break the curse and leave the guys. I could do whatever I wanted because I was tired of being treated like shit.

My life was just listening to and being mistreated by men all around me. I was getting really fucking tired of everything.

“I made some soup with your favorite rolls and butter,” he said, placing a tray in front of me.

The soup smelled amazing; the rolls were still warm, there was a cup of coffee and in the corner was a piece of lemon meringue pie.

Damn him and his impeccable cooking skills.

As much as I wanted to be a petulant child, there was no way I was going to say no to warm bread and whipped butter. I tore the bread in half, scooping way too much butter and lathering it on before I took a big bite.

Fuck me, I would sell my child to have bread like this every day. I needed to steal this recipe.

“Now that you’re up, I’ll bring all of your things,” he said, before disappearing.

The soup was chicken gnocchi that was so delicious, and the bread was perfect for soaking up the last remnants of it. I was finishing the last of my pie when he brought the last of my things into the room.

“I’m pretty sure that is everything,” he said, putting the last of my clothes in a walk-in closet.

I nodded, still a little peeved, but now that I had eaten, I wasn’t as mad. Mr. Potter didn't deserve my anger.

“I’d like to check your shoulder and your ribs.” He took the tray off my lap before he produced the bag he had yesterday.

“Were you the pack healer?” I asked, trying to look inside the bag.

“No, my mate was the pack healer,” he said with longing in his voice, making me feel guilty.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ask—”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I lost her two years before the curse, so I had time to get used to being alone before I took this duty.” He gave me a few vials. “That is a concoction of herbs good for healing. This is one for the pain, and this one is for infections.”

“How long was she your mate?” I asked, taking all three vials like they were shots. Two of them were sweet and the last one tasted bitter.

“We were together for eighty-years before she passed.” He took off my sling, extending my arm out before I winced, then he pulled it back.

“I’m assuming your life span is like that of a regular wolf,” I said, feeling my body not so stiff today.

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