home is where the sleep is

She let her forepaws dangle off the edge of his bed. She liked this. There was something comfortable about his presence, an ease to their banter. No expectations, no master and slave dynamic like her old home that she hated, or Ollie and slave dynamic, which mostly just confused her. She wasn't unhappy about being someone's demons. Maybe that meant she haunted his thoughts, just a little. She grinned at the thought.


The Warlord was a mean ugly bastard, but thay didn't mean that one day-- she sucked in a sharp breath as Wilde continud speaking, his careless words stabbing at her. She didn't hear the support in his words, only the betrayal. ‘So we could actually be friends, actually be friends, actually be friends’ it rung in her ears, blocking everything else out. “Heaven forbid the rank rising Wilder be friends with a slave.” She kept her voice dry, breathing shallowly so he wouldn't hear or see the pain. 


She hopped off the bed, sadness giving way to anger. “I was wrong, everyone in this pack is boring.”