Surrounded by Wolves
1914 Words
The Blackcrest Hunters stood outside the local wolf town, a place that felt both foreign and oddly familiar to Isa. Unlike the other thirteen kingdoms, the wolves had mastered the art of concealment, skillfully hiding their existence from the human population. Their pack house, situated in the middle of an expansive open field, was modest in size—smaller than any dwelling Isa had previously called home. What amused her most, however, was the vibrant greenery that surrounded her; she had never encountered such lushness in her life. Wolves were notoriously known for their deep-rooted love of nature, and this place felt like a sanctuary.
As she stepped out of the parked car, Isa noticed a line of seven eager boys awaiting her arrival, yet Damon was conspicuously absent. The sight of their excitement was a small comfort; they seemed just as happy to see her as she was to be there. The absence of Damon, however, brought her a flicker of relief. She hoped he was just as discontented with this arrangement as she was.
“Your Highness, I hope your journey wasn’t too unpleasant. Had I known about your immediate stay, I would have arranged for a plane to make your trip more comfortable,” a voice called out, smooth and polished.
Out of nowhere, Damon Reath appeared, taking Isa’s hand and kissing it gently, a gesture that made her stomach churn. Isa managed a smile, striving to suppress the disgust that bubbled within her. The audacity he had to touch her, coupled with the large, charming smile on his face, irritated her deeply. In her mind, she had imagined a ruthless leader—a disgruntled man with fearsome eyes—but instead, she found herself face-to-face with this affable alpha who seemed to embody everything she had hoped to avoid.
“How was your trip?” Damon inquired, his voice dripping with feigned concern.
“Long. Charles insisted that I leave straight away,” Isa replied, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“Ah yes, when one is summoned by the High King himself, one must not dare to disagree. I see you’ve brought a bodyguard with you?” he remarked, arching an eyebrow.
“Not a bodyguard. Jace here is my servant,” she clarified, her voice firm.
“Very well then. Have him bring your suitcase inside while I give you the grand tour of the property.”
“Yes, that sounds lovely. Jace, please ensure all my bags are in my allocated room and try not to scuff them.”
Jace narrowed his eyes at Isa’s command, but she simply laughed and looped her arm through Damon’s, allowing him to lead her into the house. As he showed her around, he introduced her to each member of the pack, their personalities ranging from boisterous to reserved. Eventually, he left her alone in her assigned room for the afternoon, only returning to inform her that dinner would be ready soon.
Isa took a moment to freshen up, slipping into one of the elegant dresses Charles had insisted she pack. As she gazed at her reflection, she felt the fabric cling to her in a way that seemed excessive for a welcoming dinner in such an un-royal household. Though the feast was meant to honor her arrival, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was merely a façade—a performance for when she reported back to Charles about their hospitality.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she listened to the muffled sounds of Damon trying to rein in his pack members, who were voicing their disagreements regarding the royal notice. She caught snippets of their conversations, and one of them muttered the word “leech,” a term she hadn’t heard in a while, which elicited a faint smile from her. The atmosphere of so many wolves made her anxious; her wolf was restless and skittish, mirroring her unease. Caught up in the throbbing ache of a headache, she didn’t notice when the door creaked open.
“Dani?” a voice called from the shadows.
“Go away, Jace,” she snapped, her patience wearing thin.
“They’re waiting for you downstairs.”
“Frankly, I don’t give a s**t. Just go away. I don’t have time for your nonsense tonight. I hope you’re satisfied with how everything will unfold,” she retorted.
“Come on, Dani; it’s just dinner,” Jace persisted, his voice softening.
“Jace, if I have to tell you to piss off again, I will tear your throat out,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous.
“Sorry.”
The door closed quietly, and Isa stripped off the dress, opting for comfortable pajamas instead. She sighed deeply, flopping onto the bed as thoughts swirled in her mind. Had Damon been a jerk when they first met, she would have relished the chance to stay and make his life miserable. The last person she had shown kindness to had turned out to be a devil in disguise. Thinking she just needed some sleep, she snuggled under the comforter and closed her eyes.
But sleep eluded her. The scene that unfolded was one of chaos—blood everywhere—blood on her face, blood on her hands, blood mingling with her tears. Her tiny hands gripped a knife, and despair twisted her heart.
“Mumma, what do I do?”
“Mumma, please wake up.”
“Mumma, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Please, Mumma, wake up.”
Screaming, Isa jolted upright in bed, her heart racing as she startled the stranger who had been sitting quietly in her room. Tears streamed down her face as she cried for the first time in what felt like ages. The wires in her head felt so tangled that they played cruel tricks on her, preventing her from finding solace. It was always the same dream: a little girl, drenched in blood, crying out for her mother. From what Isa could remember of her mother’s death, it hadn’t ended in such horror. Sniffling, she wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and took a deep breath before acknowledging the presence in her room.
“If you’re here to kill me, you might as well do it now. I might not even fight back,” she muttered, her voice laced with exhaustion.
“When did you become so soft?” a voice teased, cutting through her haze.
Isa’s body stiffened as her disordered mind recognized that voice—a voice that haunted her wolf. She scrambled to the bedside table, flicked on the lamp, and found the room empty. Sighing, she changed into her running gear, the need for movement overpowering her desire for sleep. There was no hope for rest now. Isa slipped out of the house, surrendering to the urge to sprint around the grounds, only stopping when she noticed the sun rising over the mountain range. It was about eight o’clock when a wolf spotted her lounging in the sunlight.
“Are you out of your mind? How are you not dead?” he exclaimed, disbelief etched across his features.
“I’m a daywalker, stupid. Do you know anything about the High King’s daughters?” she replied, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.
“No, not really. You should head inside and change; breakfast will be ready soon,” he said, shrugging.
“Can I ask you a question, Damon?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued.
“Of course.”
Damon looked surprised by the question but settled down next to Isa on the bench she had claimed as her own. Isa couldn’t help but smile at his tousled hair and the relaxed demeanor he projected. This was a stark contrast to the rigid formality she was accustomed to back in the main house.
“Do you know Marcus Reed?” she asked, her voice steady.
Damon erupted into laughter, nearly toppling off the bench. Isa stared at him, perplexed by his reaction. He stood up and began to walk away, still chuckling.
“That was a hilarious joke, Your Highness. Do you really expect me to believe that you thought I was the alpha? Seriously, I thought they would have informed you that you were marrying Marcus. Come inside now; I can smell breakfast is done.”
Isa felt a knot form in her stomach as she followed Damon back inside. This was not the news she had anticipated hearing so early in the morning. So, the voice she had heard earlier hadn’t been a figment of her imagination after all. The tantalizing aroma of bacon, eggs, and pancakes wafted through the house, making her feel nauseous. She pondered how much trouble she would be in if she simply backed out of this arrangement when she collided with Marcus in the hallway.
“Good morning, princess,” he greeted her with a disingenuous smile.
Isa felt anger boil within her, and that anger ignited her wolf's instincts. There was no holding back now. Marcus stopped in his tracks, turned around, and immediately dropped his plate, causing the room to fall into an awkward silence. His face paled as he backed away from Isa, who could feel her eyes flicker to a fiery orange.
“Darling, please…” he started, his voice laced with panic.
“I will not listen to another one of your pathetic lies, Marcus. You destroyed us, and you destroyed such a beautiful creature. She doesn’t understand how you could put her through that. She doesn’t understand why you needed to reject me. We were meant to be soul mates. SOUL MATES. I was going to be your luna, and she doesn’t understand why you made us leave.”
“Please…”
Isa slapped Marcus as hard as she could, the sound echoing through the room, making him and the gathering wolves flinch. But it wasn’t enough for her wolf; she craved blood. The small smile that flickered across Marcus’ face only fueled her fury. Isa growled, a low rumble that resonated through the air, and everyone in the room sank to the floor, wiping the smug smile off his face.
“Darling, please calm down. We don’t need any bloodshed,” he pleaded, his voice trembling.
“You should have thought of that before you agreed to marry me,” Isa shot back, her voice sharp as a knife.
“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked, confusion etched across his features.
The world stopped for a moment as the anger came to a sudden stop. They weren’t angry anymore, as the confusion consumed them. Marcus was confused too, it was clearly written all over his face.
“Jace”
“Yes miss, you called…”
Jace stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the tension in the room. He put his hands up and tried to back out of the room, but Isa was already behind him.
“You better explain yourself Jace, before I suddenly lose my ability to hold an alpha wolf down.”
“I was just doing as I was told, that’s all.”
“What in the world is going on here? She’s meant to be a vampire but why does she smell like a wolf?”
“Who sent you? I got no word of your trip or the arranged marriage.”
“Lady Priscilla sent me.”
“That wretched whore.”
- Writer
