Isabel's Choice

Chapter 22 - Lars

"Human, you could have frozen the loser's body."

Lightning is not happy on this crisp late autumn morning. He is reluctantly swimming out of the River in which I made him wash off the bits of Owen that clung to his fur. He still feels embarrassed for having offered his mate a three-days old rotten carrion.

Yeah, I could have and I would have, had I expected Willow to dig into it as in an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

„I shall hunt with her tonight and I will bring her something fresh!" The wolf declares so passionately that I almost want to change the decision I made earlier this morning.

„If she'll still be here tonight," I say mindlessly, only to be brought to my knees by Lightning who is trying to emerge and bite my face, forgetting that we share a body.

"She will be here! She is ours."

"I will not forcefully hold her mind, wolf."

„Yes, that is wise, the human seems to have broken under that before," Lightning agrees easily because he understands consent.

„And without doing that...I have no tools to prevent her from going rogue on me," I add, only to feel him writhing in pain at the thought that his female might be taken away from him if her human deems us unworthy.

"Come on, wolf, we have a pack to lead."

"We cannot lead it alone," he grumbles in my mind. "We won't be able to hold the pack mind without a mate."

"We will be...for a while."

***

My first training session with the Southern River Border warriors was disastrous. The lambdas are weak and the ranked members' grip on the pack mind is shaky. Strategic pack seems to have a different meaning here than in Land Core.

It bodes well for me that I plan to work myself into oblivion because this pack will give me plenty of opportunities to do so.

I am still musing over an efficient way to bring the warriors up to the level I would like them to be at, when Isabel enters my office for the appointment we have, to discuss her future.

She is wearing a sleeveless orange dress in which she is clearly cold, goosebumps dotting her arms all the way to her mark.

It's probably the ugliest Lycan mark I have ever seen, made in a hurry, not allowed to take shape properly.

I do wonder why she chose this outfit which reveals in full Owen's claim on her and whether it's a statement that she cannot belong to anybody else.

My muscles tense painfully while I am fighting the desire to get up and hug her. Maybe smell her hair. Lay her down on my desk, and taste all the sweet things that ridiculous dress is hiding.

"Good morning, Isabel."
"Good morning, Alpha."

She stands politely in front of me, looking at my power stone. It takes me a moment to realize that she is expecting my permission to sit and I hurriedly gesture toward a chair.

She rubs her arms and I curse my mother and her precepts for behaving as an adequate male.

You will treat your female with utmost respect.

Your female will not be hungry. 

Your female will not be cold.

There were no instructions on whether all this applies if the female in question hates us.

"Here," I offer her my shirt and she tilts her head questioningly. "Just...cover yourself. I know you were bonded to another, there is no need for this display."