CHAPTER TWO

Isabelle awoke with a start and gasped for air. Her eyes widened as she felt her hair plastered to her face, and her sister, Annabelle, standing above her, laughing hysterically with an empty bucket in her hand.

“What is wrong with you?” Isabelle asked as she struggled to her feet, realizing that she had slept on the floor and that her injury hadn’t been tended to and blood stuck to her face and the floor. “Why would you do that?!”

“What?” Annabelle asked saucily and threw the bucket to the side of the room. “It’s not my fault you sleep like your dead mother!”

Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat as Annabelle’s words cut to the deep. She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest and her eyes watered with tears. Annabelle smiled, always happy at her sister’s misery and always at the scene of the crime.

“What do you want, Anna? Why are you here?” Isabelle asked, her head lowered, tears dropping to the floor.

She knew her sister hated her, had always hated her. And for the life of her, she couldn’t quite figure out what the reason was.

“Our father has asked to see you,” Annabelle replied, standing akimbo, enjoying the view of her cowering sister. “Now.”

“Why?” Isabelle asked, thoroughly confused. Her father never asked for her.

“Stop asking me stupid questions and answer your summons!”

Annabelle turned and walked out of her room, leaving Isabelle to follow behind her. As they walked, Isabelle thought of all the possible reasons why her father would want to see her. What did he want? He more or less has ignored her existence for as long as she could remember. He always looked at her like she wasn’t there like he couldn’t see her like she was a shadow...a ghost that haunted him.

Even as her mind was clouded with thoughts of what her father could want, she couldn’t help but admire Annabelle’s lithe physique. The way her almost non-existent waist swayed elegantly as she walked, the way her long, slender legs carried her gracefully down the hallway and stairs, the way her pin-straight, blonde hair swayed as she walked.

Isabelle wished she looked like her.

She continued to stare at her, wishing that she wasn’t so voluptuous, wishing that her pitch black, wavy hair wasn’t so, wishing that her hazel eyes were brown.

But wishes were horses, and Isabelle couldn’t afford to ride them.

Finally, they arrived at her father’s office, and Isabelle gently strode in, the rope of apprehension wrapped tightly around her neck, threatening to cut off her air circulation and leave her out to dry.

Isabelle’s eyes roamed the room. From her father, who sat behind his mammoth oak table, to her stepmother, who lounged on the sofa with a wide smile on her face as she sipped champagne, to Anna, whose smile hadn’t left her face since Isabelle woke up. Her heart clenched in her chest. She didn’t need to be told that whatever the reason was for her being called into her father’s office, it wasn’t in her best interest.

Wearily, she turned to her father, deciding that the sooner she got this over with, the better for her. He had an uneasy look on his face, a certain uncertainty that sat deep in his eyes...and that only served to make Isabelle even more frightened.

“You sent for me, sir...”

Alpha Zane nodded and sighed heavily. “Yes, I did,” he replied and leaned back in his chair.

Behind her and seated on the sofa, Fiona giggled. A sound that Isabelle never thought her stepmother could make. For a few seconds, she had thought that she had heard wrong, that her forever frowning stepmother had giggled.

“There is a new improvement,” her father began and then stopped. The silence in the room was deafening. She wished that he would just rip the bandaid off. But it would seem that he had no such plans.

“Yes, father?” Isabelle urged.

Her father’s eyes ran the length and breadth of her form and then settled on her face. A face that he had said so many times was his spitting image of her mother.

“You’re wet,” he said. “And you didn’t tend to your injury.”

Isabelle nodded and sighed. Those two things were the least of her worries. At that point, she didn’t care that her blood had dried on her and that her hair was wet with blood and water and plastered to her face. She just wished that he would speak.

“Yes,” she replied finally and impatiently. “I will tend to them once you’re done with me.”

Her father nodded and leaned back in his chair, looking at his daughter with the indifference that she was so used to.

“I brought you down here to tell you something important. Something that would help strengthen this pack and bring us peace. Surely, you want that also?”

Isabelle nodded dutifully, pride blooming in her heart. Maybe he had finally seen the strength in her, maybe he had finally known that she was worth more and that she could do more. Maybe he was finally about to name her as the next alpha of the pack. Hope and happiness bloomed in her chest, two alien feelings that felt so damn good.

“Yes, father,” Isabelle replied. “There’s nothing I would want more.”

Alpha Zane smiled indulgently. “Good. Then you would have no problem getting married.”Khalil could tell that Isabelle was angry. But he couldn’t quite understand why. If anything, he should be the one angry. He had tossed and turned in his bed, his mind couldn’t stop thinking of the kiss that they had shared, the way her lips had felt against his, the way her body had fit in perfectly with his, the way she had moaned into his mouth, how soft she had felt against him.

They had fit perfectly together. He had almost forgotten where they were, and the watching eyes. He was somewhat grateful to Cassandra for her timely intervention, if she had not shown up when he did, he would have had no qualms about taking her right there on the training field like a caveman, damn the eyes that watched them. He would have given them something to talk about.

Khalil shifted in his seat, mumbling under his breath as his pants suddenly became tighter. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and almost immediately, the image of his late mate, bleeding to death and calling out his name came to mind.

He gasped and threw his eyes open, guilt immediately replacing the arousal he felt. He had sworn to himself after her death that he would never love anyone after her, that no one would ever take her place in his life, that he would live out the rest of his life in remembrance of her.

And then he thought about Cassandra and his guilt deepened. She had come to him in a moment of weakness, and he had succumbed to her charms. He didn’t love her, but somewhere along the line, they had moved from just lovers to friends. It felt good to have someone to talk to, to confide in. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what she wanted. He had always known that it was something that he would never be able to give her.

He could never love another woman. That much she had known. He wondered if she thought that he would change his mind.

His mind drifted back to Isabelle, to how the joy had left her eyes when she saw Cassandra come up to him and hug him. He sighed heavily, for the first time in a very long time, he felt conflicted in his feelings.

He loved looking at her, she had hazel eyes that he wished to drown himself him. And lately, he began to want other things...he wanted her to look at him with something other than indifference, sadness, and anger. He wanted her to look at him with stars in her eyes, as though the world started and ended with him.

He groaned and leaned back in his seat. He had always found that dealing with the affairs of women could be extremely exhausting, he had just forgotten how much.

Khalil thought of his wife again, wondered what she thought of him now, wondered if she was watching him make a fool of himself, and break his promise to her just like he had always done. He looked up at his ceiling expectantly, hoping for some sort of divine response from heaven. He sighed in disappointment when he got none.

“You wanted to see me,” Isabelle said as she strolled into his office without as much as a knock to announce her presence.

Khalil was shocked out of his thoughts as Isabelle sauntered into his office with a sense of authority that had been absent the last time they had spoken to each other. She waltzed in like she owned the place. A smile tugged at Khalil’s lips as he turned his chair to face her, gesturing to the seat across his table.

“Please, sit,” he said.

Isabelle took one look at the chair, and shook her head, her eyes refusing to meet his. “No, I’d rather stand,” she replied. “I do not think this discussion would take very long...”

Khalil cocked his head to the side, irritation nibbling away at him as he continuously tried to catch her gaze and failed.

“And why do you think so?”

Isabelle shrugged and fixed her gaze on the mount on his wall. “Because I have no desire to be engaged in a conversation with you.”

“And why is that?”

Isabelle sighed heavily and rolled her eyes as far back as they would go. “Did you call me hear to ask me stupid and irrelevant questions, or did you want something from me?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as her words registered themselves in his brain. She was being dismissive...she was dismissing him. The irritation in his eyes disappeared, giving way for something else...something stronger...something more sinister...something that made Isabelle’s breath catch in her throat.

Isabelle felt she may have gone too far when Khalil rose to his feet and marched towards her, stopping just short of her, standing so close that she could see the brown of his eyes.

“Isabelle...be careful, little one...”

Isabelle swallowed her nervousness, and cocked her head to the side, her eyes holding his captive. “Or what?”

Khalil chuckled, and wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulling her closer to him so he could bury his nose in her hair. He sighed as the scent of lavender and coconut hit his nostrils, making a mental note to himself to ensure Martha gets more of whatever she had on.

“What is your problem, my love?” Khalil asked, his hand falling to his side as Isabelle moved away, putting the much-needed distance between them.

“What do you mean?” Isabelle retorted. “I wasn’t aware that I had a problem.”

Khalil cocked his brow and smiled faintly at her, resisting the urge to close the gap and have her in his arms again.

“You have been avoiding me since that day...” Khalil said, trying to choose his words carefully. “Was there something I said? Maybe something I did?”

Isabelle scoffed. “You don’t think you did anything?” she asked, feeling her temper rise.

How dare he stand before her and act like he didn’t know what he did? Like he didn’t kiss her like he was suffocating, and she was oxygen only to push her away, push her to the side for that whore, Cassandra?! Kissed her like she was his lifeline, and then proceeded to act like she didn’t exist?

How dare he stand before her, looking down at her with those beautiful brown eyes that bored into hers, and act like he was innocent?

If Isabelle had any doubts about Khalil being the devil’s spawn, it had been cleared.

The gall of her husband!!

Khalil sighed heavily, already getting tired of the merry chase his wife seemed intent on leading him on. He massaged the kinks in the back of his neck, averting his eyes from Isabelle’s plump lips and angry eyes.

“Are you going to say what is on your mind, Isabelle, or do you want to continue pouting like a spoilt brat?”

If Isabelle was not angry before, she definitely was now. But the goddess forbade that she would let him see it. He didn’t deserve her anger. He didn’t deserve her care. He didn’t deserve her love. He didn’t deserve her space.

Her husband deserved nothing.

“If you didn’t summon me here for anything important, I would like to take my leave, Alpha Khalil.”

Even though he knew that it had been made in jest, he couldn’t help but smile at the way his name rolled off her lips. He wanted her to say it more, louder, in much more intimate settings.

Khalil sighed in resignation, his mood souring. “Well, if you insist – “

“I insist.”

“Very well,” Khalil continued, the grave tone of his voice reflecting what he felt in his soul. An emotion he could not quite place. “You will accompany me to the Alpha’s summit happening in a week.”

Isabelle scoffed. “Why do you want me there?”

Khalil’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You want me there...so you can parade your whore and make me a laughing stock?!” She asked, her voice rising as she spoke.

Khalil growled and moved closer to her. “Watch your mouth, brat! Cassandra is not a whore!”

Isabelle threw her head back and laughed hysterically. She laughed until tears began to flow down her cheeks.

No, nothing about the situation was inherently funny, but she could not help but laugh at the way he leaped to Cassandra’s defense. She sighed heavily, and turned away from him, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

“I do not wish to accompany you,” Isabelle said icily. “You can ask your whore.”

A muscle ticked in Khalil’s jaw at her dismissive tone, and he wondered to himself when so much change had happened to his wife.

“Oh, I wasn’t asking,” Khalil replied. “You will come with me to the summit, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

A single tear rolled down Isabelle’s cheek. “’