F**k Your Treaties
671 Words
“Is Dad awake yet?”
Damon’s voice startled Isa, causing her to jump slightly on her bench. His question seemed to float over her head, and she frowned in confusion. Marcus had failed to mention that he had children with Priscilla, leaving her feeling unprepared for this revelation.
“What?” Isa replied, still grappling with the unexpected information.
“Oh, I thought he would have told you.” Damon shrugged, a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Evidently not. How many?”
“Four. I’m the eldest.”
“Does that mean you’re part vampire as well?”
Damon stared at Isa, initially assuming her question was a joke. However, as a few moments of silence passed, he realized she was, in fact, serious. Hybrids could exist, but there wasn’t enough evidence to support the notion that hybrids could produce hybrid offspring. Throughout their brief history, children of hybrids were typically born as a whole species of one of the parents or whatever lineage was more dominant.
“No, I'm a full wolf, like my mother. Is he awake yet?” Damon shifted the conversation, irritation creeping into his voice.
“Technically, yes, but he won’t be down for a bit. We had a fight.”
“Like that’s new. I want to talk to you alone anyway.”
Isa raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across her face. Throughout her time at the pack house, Damon had consistently avoided any form of contact with her. If she was eating breakfast in the dining room, he would wrap a plate and eat later in isolation. If she engaged in conversation with the younger wolves, he would remain within earshot but never participate.
“What could you possibly have to talk to me about?” she inquired, crossing her arms defensively.
“I need to know that you can trust me and that I can trust you.” His voice was earnest, but Isa was not convinced.
“Damon, I am the vampire daughter of a mighty high king. I am not aligned with this pack, and I never will be. I don’t trust anyone, and no one in the history of my life has ever trusted me. Now tell me, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Damon caught Isa’s failing hands in his, ignoring the disgust that flickered across her face. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind; she could see that clearly. But what could have triggered such a state was beyond her.
“I have come across some sensitive information. But I need to know if you, Isa Pentagrim, can trust me.”
“What?”
Isa immediately pulled her hands from Damon’s grip, standing up and backing away from him. Only two people in the house knew her by that name, and Damon was not one of them. This realization sent a chill down her spine. Something had clearly disturbed him while he slept. He should have known better than to touch her.
“What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice steady but laced with apprehension.
“Come on, Isa; your life is in grave danger if you don’t hear me out.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you need to stop talking. No one in the world should know that name, nor should they know that she ever existed. Whatever information the person gave you, it’s not worth risking your life over.”
“Please, Isa.” His tone softened, desperation creeping into his voice.
“Stop calling me that name, you stupid inbred. My name is Dani Bellvile, daughter of High King Charles Bellvile. You need to start respecting my wishes before I hurt you or worse, kill you for treason.”
Huffing in frustration, Isa turned to leave, but Damon had other plans. He grabbed her arm tightly, holding her in place.
“Something bad is coming for you, Isa. I wanted you to know that you could—”
- Writer
