Hope you guys enjoyed STAWP from Zara's POV! 

QUESTION : Everyone keeps getting confused because I put Sold to a Wolf Pack and Saved by a Wolf Pack in one Wattpad story. Should I split them up into two different Wattpad stories, even if it means losing all the comments, or should I keep them in one story? 

This chapter is dedicated to Familyofheaps Thanks for the awesome comment -- it totally made me laugh! 

♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥

I rush through my shower because I'm honestly kind of scared of this entire fancy bathroom. I swear it was made for royalty—not a regular person like me. It's got sparkling marble counters, a huge Jacuzzi tub, and a glass-walled walk-in shower with no curtains. None!

I double-check to make sure the door is locked, but still feel complete exposed as I take off my hospital gown. Since I don't really have a choice, I step inside the shower and look for some way to turn it on. There's a button in front of me, so I push it, then gasp when half a dozen massage jets of ice cold water hit me from all sides. I look around wildly for a way to turn them off, and spot a dial, but when I turn it, the number of massage jets doubles, and the pressure from the freezing cold water increases. I let out a yelp—both from cold shock and the fact that the massage jets are actually painful—while instinct urges me to grab the shower door handle and run.

"Are you alright in there, Saffron?" Luna calls from right outside the door.

"Yes, everything's fine," I shout in a panic as I spot another dial. I turn it, and the water temperature turns warmer, then focus on the jets. I twist the original dial, and the demon shower triples its assault.

With a groan, I turn the dial yet again. This time, one jet hits me straight in the face, making me sputter. Only self-preservation keeps my hand glued to the dial. I twist it again, and that's when a torrent of water flows down from the ceiling. "Who invented this possessed demon shower?" I sputter again.

"What was that, dear?" Luna calls from outside the door.

"I said I really like your fancy shower," I shout as the torrent of water keeps trying to kill me. I get this sudden urge to just rip the dial out of the wall and be done with it, and give it another twist.

"Oh, wonderful," Luna sounds giddy, while I try to fight the urge to scream.

"Wonderful," I repeat as the ceiling flood merges with six painful massage jets of shower hell and I long for a way to fight back. I'm a Wolf. I should be able to handle a measly shower.

"The company just installed it."

"That's great. Just great," I mutter, twisting the dial again and again and again until the torture finally stops. This time, water flows weakly from the ceiling, but at least it's not trying to kill me. I sag against the wall in relief.

Without the heavy water, I can see through the glass wall of the shower into the rest of the bathroom. Once again, I wish there was a curtain. Since there isn't, and I stink, I decide I might as well get to it and look for a bar of soap. I don't see one, or any of those drugstore brand plastic bottles, just three small, fancy-looking jars lined up on a small corner shelf. They're an opaque, moss green with clear, diamond shaped stoppers, and read shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I pick one up, and then wonder what's wrong with the idiot who designed it. The jar is made of glass—actual glass. What if it were to slip from my soapy hands and shatter into a million pieces? How did anyone ever thing that was a good idea?

Whatever. I pick up the body was and try to take out the glass stopper, but it doesn't budge. With a frustrated groan, I pull harder, but it's no use.

"You like the massage jets?" Luna calls and I almost drop the jar in surprise. It bounces around in my hands a couple of times, but in the end I manage to hold onto it and save myself from a death by glass-covered floor. Then I flush beet-red as I realize that Luna completely misinterpreted my groan. Does she think I'm actually enjoying this demon shower? And does she plans to carry an entire conversation through the bathroom door?

"They're great," I lie about the stupid massage jets. Great at trying to murder people. Also, what's wrong with this family? Haven't they ever heard of privacy? First Logan walked into the bathroom and sat outside the curtain like it was no big deal. Now this? Is it a pack thing, or is it genetic?

"I'll leave you to it, then," Luna says to my utter relief.

I figure I should hurry up before she changes her mind, and focus on the diamond stopper. I yank this way and that, for what feels like forever, and when I finally figure it out I want to bang my head on the shower wall. The thing's a twist-off!

I take it out, let it clatter onto the shelf, and pour out some the flower-scented liquid onto my palm. I hope this stuff isn't as expensive as it looks, because it takes the entire contents of the jar before I finally feel clean. The same goes for the shampoo, which smells like a different flower, and the conditioner, which smells like a third.

By the time I've switched off the water, I smell like someone's garden. It reminds me of something—something I can't quite place my finger on. I take one deep breath after another, hoping to jog my memory, but nothing comes to me. I'm wasting time anyway—keeping Luna and poor Joshie waiting—so I quickly towel off and slip into clean underwear and my saffron dress.

The material feels silky soft against my skin and fits perfectly. I twirl in front of the fogged up mirror, trying to see how I look, but it's honestly hard to see anything. I guess it doesn't really matter anyway, or so I think until I step back into the room.

"Logan?" I ask when I find reclining on the bed, with Luna nowhere in sight. The chair she was sitting on is now next to the desk, and aside from her paperback novel—which is on my nightstand—it's as if she was never here.

"You look beautiful," Logan smiles as he sits up. His gaze roves over me, and I flush with embarrassment. I feel kind of exposed, with my feet bare and my hair still wet from my shower. Then I realize he was sitting right outside the door while I was in there—that he could have walked in at any moment and there wouldn't have been a curtain for me to hide behind—and I blush even harder.

"So, it's Friday?" I ask, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah." Logan nods. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. Mother said—"

"That you stink?" I tease.

"Yeah." Logan grins sheepishly. "How are you feeling?"

"Great." I smile. "Your Mom said Joshie was waiting to see me?"

"He is, but that can wait." Logan pats the spot on the bed next to him. "Come, sit. There's something I want to talk to you about."

  ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥  

1. Did you like this chapter? 

2. Whose POV should I write next? Saffron or Logan?

3. Is talking to POW a good idea? 

4. Do you have a fancy bathroom? Do you even want a fancy bathroom? 

5. Does it bother you when someone talks to you while your in the shower? How about when you're on the toilet? 

6. And have you noticed the new ranking system on Wattpad? What do you think?