CHAPTER FOUR

Isabelle sat deathly still and watched her reflection in the mirror as the hired hairdresser styled her wavy hair the color of midnight. She thought of the man who would be her husband, her mate. She wondered if the rumors were true. She wondered if he would treat her well, or even better than what she was used to. She wondered if she would be respected. She wondered if she would ever meet her real mate...assuming that she had one.

Outside, she could see the full moon high up in the sky through the window of her small room. It shone so brightly, almost as though it was trying to give her its strength. Almost as though the moon goddess was watching and trying to reassure Isabelle of what was happening. As though she was trying to tell her that everything would be okay.

Unfortunately, no matter how she tried to be positive, she didn’t believe that everything would be okay.

Finally, the hairdresser was done, and exited the room, giving Isabelle the much-needed privacy that she so desperately needed. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She looked beautiful in the very simple dress she wore. So old was the dress that it could almost be considered a relic. Such was her stepmother’s contribution to her marriage.

The simple, white gown hugged her body and accentuated her curves with a little more cleavage than she was accustomed to gathering at the top of her chest. She smiled at the person who looked back at her in the mirror, trying to reassure her that she was going to make it out. That they had survived this far, and could still go further.

The door swung open, and Annabelle sauntered in, dressed to perfection in a bright red satin dress, and bold makeup. Her beautiful, blonde hair was pinned up in a very elegant hairdo. Her eyes roved her sister’s frame disapprovingly, trying to hide the jealousy that stirred in the deepest parts of her soul.

“They’re ready for you,” Annabelle said, enjoying the immediate look of unease that settled over Isabelle’s face.

“Is he...” Isabelle started and cleared her throat. “Is he there?”

Annabelle smirked. “Yes, he is. Eager to get it over and done with,” she replied. “So, let’s go.”

Isabelle opened her mouth to speak but was cut short by Annabelle who took her by the elbow and dragged her out of her room, and down the stairs at a painstakingly slow pace. Annabelle had insisted that her mother gave Isabelle the dress she had on. She had always hated it. It was a sight for sore eyes. And yet somehow, Isabelle had managed to look like a beautiful, blushing bride in the otherwise ridiculous ensemble.

She hated that. She had to fix it.

“You know that you’re going to have to do your duty to him as his wife, right?” Annabelle began.

“What are you talking about?" Isabelle asked.

“Your wedding night...” Annabelle continued. “I don’t suppose you know anything about what happens there. Seeing as you’re not attractive enough for anyone to want to fuck you.”

“Annabelle...”

“Honestly, you should thank our father. If not for him, you would have died without knowing the touch of a man,” Annabelle said with a wide smile on her face.

They finally arrived at her father’s office, and Isabelle stared at the door, knowing that when she exited that office, everything would be different. The idea scared her, terrified her even. She thought of what her life would be like with him…this man whom she knew nothing about. This man that she was more or less being auctioned to…a union where she was given no power to decide. A union where she was traded readily like livestock.

Tears gathered in her eyes and she blinked them away, unwilling to show her broken spirit in front of her adversaries. She stared at the door, an ominous cloud hanging over her, she took deep breaths, however, it wasn’t enough to prepare her for the battle ahead.

“Are you ready, you little shit?” Annabelle asked cheerily. “It’s time…”

Isabelle turned her pleading look to her sister just as she opened the door and pushed Isabelle unceremoniously into the office. Isabelle stepped on her gown and stumbled into the room, a loud gasp escaping her as her arms flayed, searching for balance. A balance that she finally found with her face down on the dark hardwood floor of her father’s office.

Deathly silence filled the room and she could feel all eyes on her. Embarrassment washed through Isabelle as she struggled to her feet, cursing Annabelle and her evil mother at the back of her mind. She blinked back the tears…this was not the time to cry. She had to be strong. She needed to be strong. The path ahead wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

Her eyes found him. The strange man she was to marry. He stood to her father’s left, leisurely leaning Aja at the wall and watching her with a curious glint in his eyes.

Khalil chuckled, “So, this is she?” He asked as he took several steps to Isabelle.

Isabelle froze as his eyes perused her, and ran the length and breadth of her frame.

“You weren’t lying when you said that she was ridiculously weak…” Khalil continued. “But thank goodness that I’m not looking for a warrior.”

Isabelle looked at her father, her heart heavy with pain. Her eyes held his, looking for answers. Was that was he really thought of her? Was that really how he saw her? Did he have no love in his heart for his firstborn child? What did she do to deserve the indifference with which he treated her?

Isabelle had always known she was weak, especially for an alpha’s daughter, but to hear that her father thought of her so broke her heart in ways she didn’t think possible. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek, and she immediately brushed it away.

“Shall we begin?” Khalil asked.

Isabelle’s eyes held her father’s, pleading with him not to do this to her. Pleading with him to show mercy, compassion…something. But there was nothing but the blank stare that Isabelle was too familiar with.

“Yes, we shall.”