Page 16 of Isabel and the Werewolf Beast

“Nice to see you can do mathematics.” Her hands fluttered back to her sides and toyed with the fabric of her skirts of the white gown. As translucent as she was, she touched herself.

“Imagine the wealth of knowledge you possess having lived so long. How things must have changed. I’d love to learn more.”

She tucked a strand of her dark, shiny hair behind her ear as she studied me. “You are a strange man.”

Again, with the ‘strange’ comment. It bothered me more coming from her than it ever did coming from the villagers in our hometown, but I didn’t understand why it mattered to me so much that she saw me as more than a strange man. A strange werewolf. I was both things, and it irked me that was all she saw in me.

“You’ve come to that conclusion many times, how about you move on?”

Her eyes sparkled. I like to think they were humorous and not malice, but I wasn’t sure yet. One minute she seemed kind to me, the next she might kill me.

She flounced over to the window, her white gown flowing behind her, her long hair floating around her waist. Once again, her steps didn’t leave any marks in the dust on the floor. Isabel placed a palm on the glassand stared outside. The way the moonbeams hit her skin in a delicate caress of pale white glowing light took my breath away. I’d never met a woman as beautiful as her. Neither had I met one as secretive. I suppose a vampire had to hide who they were. The first law I read in the book was do not reveal yourself to humans. It was safe to say I hadn’t, and the only time I had, well, I’d ended up killing him on accident.

“Tell me something,” she said. “Do you not fear for your life?”

“Every day ever since I was old enough to grasp I shouldn’t have a stomach so cramped with hunger that I barely moved.”

She turned around, hand dropping from the glass but not leaving a handprint behind, and asked, “Your parents starved you as a child?”

The moonlight brightened her beauty even more. I wanted to take the mask from her face and kiss her. I swiped my tongue over my lips. Where had that thought come from? Especially when thinking of my childhood.

“My parents left my brother and me to fend for ourselves.”

“How old were you?”

The pain of that time came rushing back to the forefront. I’d tried my best to bury it, but it was always there. Always a reminder our parents didn’t want us. Left alone. So alone. At least we had each other even though we’d been so young.

“Eight.” I swallowed, my throat threatening to close as those years rushed back. “Asher was five. We live in a small cottage deep in the woods.”

Her head titled to the side as though she was studying me in a new light. “The village didn’t help?”

“They didn’t realize we were alone.”

Although I’d sometimes wondered how at least one person in the village couldn’t have known we werealone. Someone, anyone, just one person to help us, but help never came.

“Where did your parents go?”

“I don’t know. They used to fight a lot. Dad would yell. Mom would throw things. He’d hit her. After one awful fight, Asher and I ran into the woods and hid. It was cold, almost winter. We huddled by the trunk of a tree trying to stay warm, staying quiet so Dad wouldn’t find us and yell at us, hit us, too. We were so icy cold when the sun rose, and we crept back to the cottage hoping to sneak in and warm ourselves by the fire. Except they were both gone. The fire was out. The cottage was cold. I lit it again as Asher shivered in front of the hearth. I dragged a blanket from my bed and wrapped it around us as we watched the flames spark to life. Once we were warm, we were hungry. Only then did we realize Mom wasn’t there cooking breakfast.”

“Do you think…” She brushed a lock of hair back from her face, pursed her lips, and met my gaze.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“You can ask me anything.”

I’d just spilled my worst night to her, the trauma of my childhood, and I didn’t even know why I’d felt comfortable doing so to a vampire who kept threatening to kill me. Yet she hadn’t. She’d let me protect my brother. This led me to my favorite place in the world, a library. Had helped me learn more about who I’d become as a werewolf.

“Very well. Do you think your father murdered your mother?”

Her words were like a sledgehammer to my gut. All the air exploded out of my lungs on a loud exhale.

“That bastard.” I seethed as anger, no rage, filled every ounce of my being. My fists curled and uncurled. Claws dug into my palms. I couldn’t control the beast whileenraged. I stormed to the nearest wall and punched it with so much force my fist crumpled the wall to my elbow.

“You never considered it before?” Her dainty, incredulous voice whispered the question into the air as my lungs heaved.

“No.” I jerked my hand out of the wall, studying the splattering of blood across my knuckles. The rage had lessened with the release of physical power, but the gaping hole sent a new emotion rolling through me. Guilt. “Sorry about your wall.”

---