Primals (Reverse Harem 1)

It’s small, for a man of his size, just like his boat, making me wonder if maybe he doesn’t really get how big he is. In fact, he has to bow his head a little so it doesn’t hit the ceiling or bore a hole through it. I spot a stove in the corner and a sink with a cupboard above it but there’s only a mini-fridge, and no counter, just a small, round table to prepare meals on. I also see only two doors.

It’s nothing fancy. Not much furniture, probably because it would just get in Theo’s way. No vases. No paintings on the walls. In fact, there’s nothing on the walls except for the lamps, not even a clock. The lone decorations in the room are wood-carved pieces – bookends holding a few books together on a shelf that holds nothing else between the two windows and what looks like a wooden totem on the window sill.

The place is cozy, too, though. There are two large armchairs in front of the electric fireplace, each occupied with a quilted pillow, a thick, black rug between them. Patched velvet curtains hang from the sides of the windows, kept in place by wide strips of yellowed lace.

I open one of the doors, which leads to a bathroom with a small shower, a sink and a toilet, a rug like the one in front of the fireplace but smaller on the tiled floor. There’s no mirror, no bathroom cabinet. Just a glass with a toothbrush on the sink. I can’t imagine how he bathes in there, which leads me to question how often he bothers.

I let out a sigh, eyes darting to the eggshell blue ceiling. Why do I end up in the company or in the homes of men who don’t take grooming seriously?

Well, come to think of it, it looks like Theo hasn’t shaved his face in a while. I suppose I should be glad his beard isn’t a foot long and that it seems clean. In fact, I remember being tempted to stroke it, just to see if the wiry strands would feel soft or prickly beneath my fingertips.

I remember him smelling good, too, as I snuggled against him, in spite of the fact that I can’t tell when was the last time he had a bath. Yes, I caught a whiff of something fishy, but I also smelled something sweet like honey and the warm aroma of fresh cedar.

I close my eyes, breathing in.

Ah. I can pick up the scent of him here, too.

I get out of the room, stepping into the other one, where the scent is fainter but still lingers in the air.

It’s a bedroom not a whole lot bigger than the bathroom. There isn’t even a bed, just a mattress covering nearly the entire floor with a quilt and plenty of small, round pillows on top of it. And there’s no window, just a woven tapestry on one wall. A closet stands against the opposite wall. There’s nothing else in sight.

Well, it is cozy.

But wait. If there’s only one bedroom and one bed, then...

“You can have the bedroom,” Theo says, almost making me wonder if he could read my mind, too. “I rarely use it anyway.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”

Well, that explains why his scent isn’t so strong as it was in the living room.

“Where do you sleep?”

“On the floor,” he says. “On the rug.” He shrugs when I stare at him. “I like being in front of the fire.”

I blink. Like a dog?

I turn around, studying the rug. It’s thick and clean but I doubt if it’s good enough to sleep on. Good sleep, that is.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, thinking he’s got to be making this stuff up so that I’d feel better about taking the bed.

“Yeah. Take the bedroom. I insist.”

I frown, feeling bad about letting Theo sleep on the rug despite whatever stories he’s telling. Then again, there’s a lot to be said for taking his word for it. I don’t think my back can take another night sleeping on something hard and cold. Besides, I can’t remember the last time I slept in a bed. Well, it’s not a bed. Still, it is a very cozy looking mattress.

Finally, I just shrug it off. If that’s what he wants, who am I to argue? “Well, if you insist.”

“I do.”

I nod, heading back into the bedroom. Behind the closed door I take off my other layers of clothing, Sebastian’s clothing mostly, hanging them on the pegs behind the door.

Suddenly, I hear a knock. “Are you alright, Clarissa?”

“Yes,” I answer without opening the door, glad that it locks.

“Can I get you anything? Something to eat?”

“No, thank you, I’m just going to sleep.”