Helanie:
Norman didn’t say another word after that and rushed into the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.
I guess he finally realized I was only saying that to get under Charlotte’s skin.
"Was he really ready to do it with us?" my wolf asked, making lie in bed, wondering what Norman’s next move would have been if he hadn’t figured out I said that just to annoy Charlotte.
"I don’t know. I can never understand him."
Of course, she had seen my thoughts and everything from my mories, but still, we hadn’t talked about our mates like that yet.
"But you tell about yourself. What na do you want?" I asked her.
I had never been given any wolf connection classes before. Since I didn’t get a wolf at the usual age, they kicked out of those classes.
"I have a na. And I’m sure you’ll like it," she said. She was such a tease.
But honestly, she had beco one of my best friends.
"What is it?" I asked, and she giggled.
"Cora," she said sweetly.
"That’s a perfect na for you," I replied, genuinely happy to be talking with my wolf.
We spoke for a few minutes before I passed out. I was so tired I was already asleep even before Norman ca out of the bathroom.
But I was woken up by strange noises in the bedroom.
I sat up with my fists clenched, body ready to fight, until I figured out where the sounds were coming from.
Norman, for so reason, had laid out a mattress for himself and was groaning in his sleep.
Usually, he isn’t a very deep sleeper. It always seems like he’s just resting or lightly napping.
But that night, he was really asleep—deeply.
I reached over to the lamp on the side table and turned it on, focusing on Norman. He looked so restless on the mattress.
I wondered if it was because he felt guilty about the earlier comnts and decided to sleep on the floor.
"Norman," I said softly, getting out of bed to reach for him.
He had a frown on his forehead and one hand over his chest, clutching it like he was holding his heart.
"Don’t, I heard him say in his sleep." He was probably having a nightmare.
"The pain—it’s too much—just let go."
The way he was muttering, shaking his head from side to side, made my heart ache.
"Are you okay?" I asked him, but he was in such a deep sleep that I couldn’t get through to him.
"I would rather die."
He was breathing heavily now, and that’s when I reached out and touched his arm, trying to wake him up.
"Norman—Norman, wake up. It’s just a nightmare."
At first, my attempts were futile. I grabbed his arm and gave him a firm shake.
Not only did I wake him up, but I must’ve startled him too, because he suddenly grabbed by my arms, flipped onto the mattress, and pinned my hands down.
"Norman."
I whispered his na, shocked. His eyes were red, his face twisted in a look of rage.
"What are you trying to do?"
He hissed through gritted teeth, demanding an answer. But within seconds, his expression shifted as he realized it was —not an intruder or a threat.
"Helanie?"
He frowned, squinting through the dim light to get a clearer view of my face. The mont his eyes adjusted, he looked down at his hands holding and quickly let go, moving off .
I sat up slowly, cheeks flushed, my body stiff with awkwardness. That shouldn’t have happened.
"I’m so sorry. I thought you were an intruder."
He kept his gaze down, sitting on his knees with his arms resting on his legs, scratching at his scalp nervously—hoping I wouldn’t question him further.
"You were having a nightmare," I spoke after a few monts of silence.
"Oh."
He didn’t seem too surprised.
"I guess I fell asleep," he uttered.
Now that was odd.
"Hmm? Why are you saying it like that? You sleep every night, don’t you?" I kept my tone gentle, even though I was clearly taken aback.
The way he avoided my eyes told there was sothing strange behind that simple statent.
"Norman, you do sleep every night, right?" I asked again, this ti more directly. I got on my knees, leaning closer as I waited for his answer.
"I don’t sleep—not like everyone else does. I always keep one eye open." He shrugged as if it wasn’t the craziest thing in the world to say.
"Huh? How can soone not sleep and still function properly?" I stared at him, trying to make sense of it.
"Maybe that’s why you don’t function right at all." I nodded to myself, watching him narrow his eyes at .
"No seriously. I think that’s why you’re always so grumpy. Why don’t you sleep?" But his frown deepened at the question.
"I’m not grumpy. You’re just too annoying," He said it like it was a punchline, but it wasn’t anything new—I already knew he thought that.
"Is that why you were still ready to do ?" I don’t know why I said it. The mont the words left my mouth, both of us turned our heads in opposite directions, embarrassed.
"I wasn’t ready to—"
He grimaced, stopping himself. That’s when I noticed the sweat on his neck. I reached for a tissue and leaned forward to wipe it away, but he caught my wrist before I could.
"What? I’m not doing anything," I said quietly, my wrist still held in his grip.
"Just change your shirt. You’re all sweaty." I mumbled. He let go, and I pulled back, a little confused by how weirdly he was acting.
I stood up and started walking toward the bed. Halfway there, I paused and glanced over my shoulder to check on him.
That’s when I saw him pulling his shirt off to change into a clean one—and sothing on his arm caught my eye.
A bite mark. On his left arm.
It wasn’t just a mark. It looked... strange. And for so reason, it gave the weirdest feeling.
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