4. Isabelle

4

ISABELLE

I n his anger, Luka tightened the chains so that my limbs are stretched across the bed without thought of how I was supposed to reach the bag of blood that is just out of my reach.

I should be angry at him for treating me this way! I have every right to be pissed about a lot of things, my confinement and treatment the very least of it. Instead, I feel… sad.

The gentle way he touches me is unlike anything I've ever felt.

Because he's meant to be yours!

I shudder at the way his handsome face morphed when his beast came forward to consume me. Twisting Luka's features without fully shifting. I tremble at the memory of the sharp sting his claws left as they dug into my flesh. His too-long tongue lapping, hitting deeper than it should. Golden eyes glowing with desire.

I should be afraid of Luka's beast, not fantasizing about how he feels when he touches me. I'm supposed to be terrified of the thought of him knotting me, not how good it'll be when he sinks his sharp teeth into my shoulder and claims me.

Forcing those thoughts away with a frustrated growl, I switch my focus to what's really important. Gaining status and wealth for my faction. Ever since I reached my immortality, that's all I've heard. It's what I'm meant to do.

Why are you wasting your time with dessert when you can enjoy a gourmet meal?

You had the Alpha of Alphas eye, and you let him slip through your fingers.

Surely you can do better than that, Isabelle. We ask so little of you.

You bagged one brother, why not Jarik, the more powerful one?

Do not disappoint us again, Isabelle.

I may have had Marcus before he was killed in a challenge that he never had a chance of winning, but I hated every moment I had to be at his side. Touching him made my skin crawl. Fucking him twisted my stomach and I always had to purge his taste from my mouth after, until even the strongest spirits weren't enough. It was a relief to watch him fall under Jarik's superior strength.

It's never been about what I want, or what calls to my heart. It's always been about how I can do better. How I can gain more status, power, wealth. My factions' elders have piddled away our fortune with no concern for the future. Because of their irresponsibility, the duty of saving our coven has fallen on my shoulders.

You owe us, Isabelle.

After everything we've done for you, it's the least you can do.

I remember when I pulled Mama aside after Luka recognized me as his mate. I confided to her that perhaps someone else could go after Marcus, someone closer in age to the ancient male, so that I might recognize my soul's mate in return.

She'd tsked as she stroked my cheek, then said, "Don't be so selfish, Isabelle."

Was I being selfish?

I've done everything they've asked me. Everything. I have fucked and sucked and seduced my way through every faction, grappling for any kind of status that might benefit my coven, and for what? It still isn't good enough. Somehow, even Marcus being challenged was turned around and made to be my fault. Then again, when I wasn't able to seduce Jarik after he took over as Alpha of Alphas—despite the fact that he was very public about being madly in love with his soul's mate.

When I suggested that having the alpha's brothers' ear would be a smart move, I was scoffed at.

I wonder what they'll say when they learn that I was nearly killed. They'll no doubt spin my latest failure into yet another way I've let down my entire faction. I'm beginning to realize that nothing I do will make them happy. I could claw my way to the very top and crown myself queen of the fucking universe, and they'd want me to fly into space to find an even more powerful king to seduce to steal his power, too.

I'll never be enough.

So why am I still trying?

Maybe it's time to give up. To give in to Luka.

Gods, it felt so good for the short time I let him have me. The real me. But then he called me Izzy.

I physically flinch when I recall the way I snapped at him. I lied to him, when I said I hated that nickname. I love it. I want to only be his Izzy. But I can't, because I don't know how! I don't know anything but lies and deceit.

My heart squeezes and tears leak out from the corners of my eyes. The thought of turning my back on my family is terrifying. Not because I feel any kind of sentiment towards my coven, but rather because…if I can't please them, what makes me think I can please Luka? I've had a century of practice disappointing my coven. Somehow, I'm sure that I wouldn't be able to survive if I ended up disappointing Luka.

So, I continue to push him away out of habit and fear. Mostly fear. Snapping at him when he calls me Izzy, even though my insides turn squishy at the name. No one has ever thought enough of me to give me a soft name.

My eyes land on the bagged blood he threw. I was able to push it closer to my hand with my hip, but it's still just out of my reach. The crimson promise has my fingers stretching, pulling at the enchanted iron until I worry that I might dislocate something, when finally , my fingertip brushes the corner.

Gritting my teeth, I stretch some more until I manage to pinch it between my index and middle finger, carefully dragging it closer until I have it gripped firmly in my hand. I'm breathing heavily. Now what?

I send up a prayer to the Fates and Gods and flick my wrist to send it flying closer to my mouth. Then I breathe out a sigh of thanks when it lands right against my shoulder. All I have to do is turn my head and I can puncture it with my teeth.

The moment Luka's blood hits my tongue my eyes roll back and my muscles quiver with euphoria. Even cold it's the sweetest, richest ambrosia. The way it fortifies my muscles, giving me a boost of strength, is almost as addictive as its unique flavor.

When I've drained the bag, I lie back and close my eyes. I can almost follow the trail that burns down my throat to my stomach where it surges to every part of my body. With Luka's blood in my system, I'm sure that if it wasn't for the enchanted cuffs, I'd be able to break free and escape. But then, as I lay spread out across the bed with the memory of Luka's tongue between my thighs and his blood pulsing through my veins, I can't think of a single reason why I'd want to.

Despite the echoes of my coven in my head, I find that I'm in no hurry to escape from this place.