Chapter 2: Ensnared by the Alluring Madness

~ Isla ~

I wake, my eyes flickering as they focus on the light surrounding me. All I can see is a single blob hovering above me, a flurry of colors flipping and weaving, twisting and turning.

"Are you awake?" a lovely, melodic voice bursts through the vacuum I am stuck in, bringing me to the present with a bang. Everything instantly swings into focus, the blurring edges sharpening into plainly distinguishable pictures.

Am I dreaming?

A breathtakingly attractive man stares at me, his piercing green eyes frightening me with their brightness. I feel myself become caught in them, analyzing their marvelous beauty, imprisoned in their stunning stare.

His complexion is brown and muscled, his arms bulging, his hands powerful and hard. Wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is dressed simply, yet he has an elegance that can't be articulated.

Straight and long, his hair cuts off at his jawline, framing his face with pride. Layers are all over the place, small wisps accompanied by lengthy strands, carelessly disheveled. The bangs make me unconsciously want to brush them away so I may look evermore into his eyes with no interruptions.

The weirdest thing about his hair, though, is that it is blue. A royal blue, even, that glows in the sunlight. But the hair fits him, complimenting his softly tanned complexion and emerald eyes.

"Hello?" he says again, his voice comforting my ears. I blink once, attempting to acclimatize to the astounding handsomeness before me. A man this handsome has never been within five feet of me before.

Finally checking myself, I realize that my leg is not bleeding anymore, wrapped with a thick bandage. My shoulder is coated accordingly.

I am resting on a lovely, plushy divan. The floor is of solid marble, a deep black with traces of white trying to press its way into the tile. An enormous chandelier, crystals swirling abundantly just below its metal limbs, hangs lightly on a slender, Felix wire in the center of the chamber. There is an astounding collection of volumes, a big bookshelf reaching from wall to wall.

But, of course, all my attention concentrates on the man.

He chuckles as I scan his face yet more, taking in his beauty, looking at male traits that, at my school, I used to only be able to watch from afar.

I cough once, attempting to croak some words out of my lips. "Shh," he says, cupping his palm over my lips, "your throat is probably dry. Let me fetch you some water first." His hand seems so familiar, and I feel, strangely, heartbroken when he pulls it from my face.

As he wanders over to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to discern a single emotion communicated in his saunter. He seems to glide, walking in a way that’s virtually difficult to explain.

That is merely one of the unusual things I notice about him.

Another thing that stimulates my curiosity is his eyes. When I skimmed over it previously, I hadn’t noticed the reflection of the light onto his pupils.

Now, when I examine more closely, I discover there is no reflection. The light doesn’t bounce off his eye, but rather, seeps into it. It is hardly perceptible, even by me, the queen of inspection, but I now clearly see the difference. The vivid, emerald green seems to seize the light and showcase it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in contrast. When I glance at them, and he returns my sight, my figure is not evident in his pupil.

He brings a chilled glass of crystal clear water to my lips, softly pouring it into my mouth. "Can you speak?" he prodded.

"Yes," I almost whispered.

"Okay, good," he smiles warmly.

I suddenly find it hard to speak. "T-thanks for s-saving me," I stammered. He lets out a melodious chuckle, the most beautiful one I've ever heard.

"It was a pleasure."

I feel self-conscious; abruptly disconcerted by the way he is examining my face, my body. I start to feel anxious when I see his look, merely one glimpse at his lovely, appraising eyes triggering butterflies in my stomach. The urge develops to avoid this unusual, foreign conduct towards me, to return to the orphanage and work on that scientific project I didn't accomplish before because I feared I would die today.

I swiftly sit up, my back reposed on the plush cushions, and then I attempt to swing my legs over the edge. Before I succeed in dumping my feet on the floor, though, he catches my legs and places them back on the couch, the hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. I feel a thrill of joy when he touches them, his fingers lingering a bit before drawing away. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demands, somewhat laughingly.

"Leaving." I decided to tell him the truth. “Thanks again for the help.”

His eyes widened, "But you can't simply leave! We have to find out more about each other! I don't even know your name."

He is so different from any guy I’ve encountered. He truly seems like he wants to know more about me. His stare tugs at mine, his expression of despair. If I didn’t know better... I’d think that he likes me, or at least my appearance.

But, the issue is, I know better. Being loved is a luxury reserved for beautiful individuals.

I shoot up so swiftly my movement is practically a blur, disregarding the anguish that my moves are inciting within my injuries. The joke is finished. "Well, apologize. I'm leaving," I say angrily. Why does my rudeness have to come out at a moment like this? I definitely need to focus on my social skills. He did save my life, after all.

I suppose his conduct is worrying me. The way he is honestly staring at me, with so much dedication, is really unnerving and weird. It is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and, honestly, I have never been more terrified in my life.

I start heading to the door, my somewhat damp red hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe in a couple of minutes I will wake up to realize that the man is simply a fabrication of my mind.

"Please stop!" I hear his calming, hypnotizing voice, but I manage to shake his demand from my head. He can't persuade me into keeping on with this joke any longer. Obviously he is only messing with me by appearing to be interested, in order to get a big laugh out of his pals later. However, as I continue to walk, there is a haze, and suddenly...

He is standing directly in front of me, blocking the entrance.

How did he do that? He had been standing more than 10 feet away from me previously.

I become like a sheep that has been pushed into a corner. "What are you? What do you want from me?" I implore, my eyes boring through his, appealing urgently.

His eyes spark at my words, then, curiously, he wears a resigned face. "Come, sit down while I explain."

He brings me back over to the divan, and I gingerly sit down upon it. I have to say, no matter how odd this seems, I am embarrassingly delighted to spend a few more seconds staring at his attractive face. However, I try not to reveal it, instead exhibiting a suspicious frown.

He takes a big breath, and then says. "My name is Liam, and I am what you would call a werewolf."

Shock and incredulity race through my head, chilling me to the bone. Oh, what a tragedy, I thought unhappily, this extraordinarily attractive guy, the only one that’s ever talked to me, is a freak. I can see he believes his ridiculous statements too. His eyes are straining to catch my glance.

"Werewolves don't exist," I tell him softly, like if he is a kindergartener. I know he doesn’t deserve my scorn, but... really?

"Are you saying I don't exist?" he says, angry. I can’t help but notice how cute he looks when he is annoyed, and I wonder whether I really want to wake up from this dream.

"No, although you might need to go talk to a counselor or something about some mental problems," I quickly snap, then instantly desire to take back my harsh comments. For me, insults are default, practically encouraged by people’s equally disdaining response.

He appears agitated now, a slight pout on his thick lips, streaks of his blue hair falling into his eyes. The funny thing is, he doesn’t seem to be upset or even bothered by me, but by himself. What type of guy is he? He is proving practically everything that I thought was true about every male false.

"I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," he mutters sadly. His eyes flutter shut, his lips pursed in concentration. He seems to be concentrating on something, something I can’t possibly identify.

"There is no way you can prove to me that-"

I am halted by his quick transfiguration, looking in wonder and awe as the lovely guy suddenly melts, his head crashing into his body. It is like a waterfall, the way his body suddenly falls into itself. However, there is a glimmer of light before he becomes a puddle on the floor, his-body-liquid-I-don't-really-know creating a shape. Another instant and he is that form.

A gigantic wolf with sharp white teeth and black eyes that matches his pupils.

I leap back in terror. Nothing I had read or seen about werewolves had prepared me for this.

It barks once, a deep sound that reminds me roughly of his baritone chuckle, his shaggy fur a creamy light brown hue that fits his complexion. He, like his human counterpart, is very lovely. My breath is snatched away as I scrutinize him and his massive, elegant form. What completely astonishes me, most of all, is his dominating air, demanding respect even from me.

Similar to the last morphing, he abruptly crumbles, descending towards the earth swiftly. There is a flash of light, and he becomes the extraordinarily hot man he was before.

Scared, I take a step back, not watching where I am going. Liam, no matter how gorgeous, appears otherworldly. Somehow, my brain refuses to accept that werewolves exist, and even if now I am given proof, it still is a lot to take in. It is nearly too much for me to comprehend, no matter how accurate it is.

My feet fall out from beneath me as I crash with a hard, sturdy object. I feel the floor rush to meet me, my arms flag about, attempting to catch my equilibrium.

A pair of strong, powerful hands reach beneath me, pushing me back into my upright posture. They felt warm, delivering shocks across my body. I am obviously aware of his presence.

"Please believe me," he removes his hands away from my back, coldness now flowing to the formerly warm region where his touch had been.

"I... I.." I whispered softly, disconcerted by his closeness, yet trembling from the lack of his enormous, toasty warm hands. He seems to feel it, reaching in and taking my right hand, heat spreading like wildfire throughout my body.

Nervousness takes me over and I jerk my tiny fingers away. His eyes widen in astonishment as I stuff them in my pockets. "You don't want me to touch you?" he said suspiciously, "You don't trust me?"

Yes, I want you to touch me. Yes, I trust you. Although I have no idea why.

"I don’t know you. Why would I?" I carelessly toss at him. He blinks once, almost from surprise rather than annoyance. Bafflement is carved into his face, as if he is truly bewildered by the concept that I don't.

I begin to become irritated with myself. Why do I have to be so bitter?

"Okay, I'll wait then," he grins weakly. Other than his somewhat decreased smile, he appears unfazed, nevertheless, remaining virtually as lively as before.

Is this person really real?

"Well, you might as well give up now then or else you'll be waiting forever," I glance away, letting the angry words escape my lips.

"Don't worry; I am prepared to wait forever. I have all the time in the world," he replies gently, his words shocking me.

Of course. How can I forget? He isn’t even a person.

"I guess you forget that I will die in around seventy five years. I don't have forever," I mutter, my voice caught up by his keen ears. Silence spreads between us as the seconds tick past. I feel uneasy, trying to gaze everywhere but him.

He chuckles again, a sound that starts to melt my heart. "I think you underestimate me, Isla."

Whoa. Wait a second.

"How do you know my name?" I passionately demand. He winks at me in response, holding my school ID before my eyes. Narrowing my gaze, I extend out my hand towards him. "Give it back."

"Should I?" He teases, inciting my rage. I hurl myself at him, and he smiles maliciously. "Oh, well this is getting interesting."

It just takes a few seconds of forcefully clutching at thin air before I understand I am not going to obtain my ID back by force. He is moving his arms so swiftly that it's hard to even touch him. Rolling my eyes in resignation, I lean back and slump against the sofa.

"Are you ever planning on giving it back?"

"Sure. Someday. I'm really fond of this photo of you." He looks at it again, and my memory jumps back to the moment when that image was shot. It was roughly six months ago, and also the day when I misplaced my glasses yet again, leaving me half blind and unable to even tie my shoes, let alone comb my hair. I had even worn my shirt inside out. It was dreadful.

I now know he genuinely has been making fun of me.

I say nothing, my gaze returning to him. I instinctively focus on how the sunshine seems to catch on his azure hair and shimmer, making his whole head look like it is strewn with stardust. He doesn't wait for me to speak. "But anyway... I doubt it will take you long to fall in love with me."

"How come, wolfboy?" I gaze at him, shocked by his pompousness and how honest he seems while speaking such words.

"My charm is so overwhelming." He tosses his hair and flashes me a bright, dazzling smile. I am almost dazzled by its beauty. "How could you not?"

"How could I, you arrogant brat?!" I retort bitingly, "I prefer a trait in men that you don't possess—humility." And a brain, of course.

"I was kidding," he defends himself, "come on Isla, you know that! I'm not like any boy you have met before. I will give anything, even my life, for you. I realize it's a crazy remark to make, but I honestly feel that way. Every werewolf feels like a way towards his or her partner. You may trust me-"

"What was that you just said?" I ask dangerously, stopping his rage. I can't believe my hearing, my eyes narrowing. He did not just state that...

"You're... my mate," he says tentatively, hesitating slightly before he adds, "If you weren't my mate, I would have murdered you in the forest. I’m typically not too friendly to trespassers that stumble our way." After a short stretch of astonished stillness, he grabs my hands and squeezes them. "I'm all yours," he murmurs, peering deeply in my eyes with an incomprehensible intensity.

I giggle at the way he discusses it so nonchalantly. He informs me that I'm his "mate", linked to him for life (or afterlife), and he wants me to just take it in? To promptly obey his request?

I can feel the severity and dread in his lovely green eyes, silently pleading with me to comprehend.

I'm amazed the most by the fact that he expects me to take him seriously. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just wants the gratification of having me fall for his crafty manipulations. I have to admit, he is a wonderful liar.

Anger overwhelms me, my heartbeat increasing. Why don't I get a choice on whether to be his mate? Is he so superior that he can't offer me the chance to be free?

"Uh, well, um..." I inch towards the door, edging to the escape that will release me from this nightmare. My crimson hair falls onto my face, my hands trembling. Liam smiles as the phone begins to ring, forcing my stomach to uncomfortably flip flop.

"Excuse me while I take this call," he replies hastily, disappearing from my sight. I hear the pounding of footsteps, then nothing. I breathe with relief. The coast is clear.

Oh lovely phone, you are my lifesaver.

I run towards the door, flinging it open and rushing out into the considerably lightened rainfall. The soft mist drips on my nose, bouncing around my toes as I skid over the muddy earth, my bare feet stained brown. My red hair is free and curly, flying as a blast of chilly wind blows it far behind me. I carry my flats in my hands, stretching my tongue out carelessly to capture a drop of the water that falls from the sky.

Freedom is at hand. 

                                                                        ***

BEEP! BEEP!

I smack the button on the alarm clock, hoping to cease its annoying wails. I am laying in my bed, my fluffy plush animals encircling my thickly buried figure. I have lots of them, an entire collection from my youth, which I can't bear to get rid of. Gold tones pour through my little windows, dazzling my face as I sit up into the harsh sunshine. Just beyond the glass is a gorgeous atmosphere of clean, green grass, crystal clear lake water, and towering trees. Puffy clouds hover in the azure sky, birds sailing towards the horizon.

I wearily push myself from the blankets, my feet producing a thump as they hit the floor. Stumbling over to my drawer, I carelessly grab a t-shirt and a pair of pants, putting it over my figure. My spare set of spectacles, the other lost in the storm, squeak when I slip them over my nose. I, by accident, get a peek of my figure in the mirror, and gasp.

A colossal, beat up wound spreads across my left shoulder, outrageous redness encompassing it. Another, however not exactly so major, enlivens my knee, bringing back agonizingly distinct recollections from the earlier evening. It isn't just a fantasy.

I truly met an attractive insane man the previous evening who saved me from unavoidable demise.

I can in any case recollect his ideal face, his alarming green eyes, and his uniqueness. I didn't have any idea. In any event, considering him sends shivers through my body, sharpness flooding through me. How could a short memory influence me to such an extent?

I mix to the entryway, glancing out along the corridor. Columns of entryways welcome me, stodginess surpassing my faculties. An offensive smell makes my nose flaw in disdain, however not shock. It generally possesses a scent like this. Different children all became accustomed to it, however I won't ever do.

All along, my 10th birthday celebration spreading over until the present, I have felt as if I didn't have a place. Nearly... like my folks were not destined to bite the dust, that I was intended to be close by even at this point. It was only an inclination, in the pit of my stomach, that something was frightfully off-base. Different children, as I grew up, appeared to comprehend that additionally, happily dealing with me as I didn't have a place. From the beginning, I was a pleasant youngster. I needed more companions. I needed to play in their games. I needed Ms. Anna to treat me very much like every other person. Furthermore, in particular, I needed to frantically chuckle. To grin.

In any case, I long abandoned that dream.

I before long wielded the next child's chilliness, transforming into a hard shell that was sharp, harsh, and extreme. I didn't require anyone. I didn't need anyone.

I was above them all.

I would remain in my space for a really long time, considering and perusing, making myself more astute and, surprisingly, more over the group. Presently, to go with my freshly discovered grandiosity, I had the smarts to support it.

What's more, these long years, loaded with dreadful pubescence and different battles, never really changed that.

I actually look at my old and somewhat worn out watch, heaving as I understand that it is nearly time for school. It starts at 8:00 AM, and it is 7:40. No big surprise the wide range of various vagrants are gone, the main commotion being the whistle of the breeze. What the poop was the matter with my morning timer to get me up so late?

I'm in such a difficult situation.

The breeze floods through my hair as I race down the steps. I impacted Ms. Anna, our manager. She causes a stir as I rapidly grab my rucksack. "Isla!" she shouts toward me, her voice sharp and telling, "After school you will be rebuffed!"

"Please accept my apologies!" I shout. I was unable to help that I hit the sack at two o'clock last evening! I murmur furious answers, excessively low for Ms. Anna to take note.

I stagger to the kitchen, getting a little pop tart, stuffing it in my mouth as fast as possible. Ms. Anna scowls at me as I hastily down a glass of water, my excited swallows reverberating in the room. "Wouldn't you say," she snaps in a hazardous murmur, "it very well may be past the point of no return for breakfast?"

The malevolent, fire breathing mythical serpent is angry at this point. It could significantly benefit me to leave.

I get my shoes; white shoes that incidentally turn out to be the main sets of shoes I have. They are old and worn, blossoms moving at the edges, a size excessively little for solace. I push my feet into them, causing the lashes to relax quite far, my toes tumbling off the underside. They look horrible on me, however that will be normal. I'm a horribly helpless vagrant young lady with no family. I don't have a home to go to.

There is an unexpected thump on the old, wooden entryway, the sound resounding around the halfway house. I look around rapidly. Ms. Anna is mysteriously gone, most likely in her office to review me for another cleaning obligation. I stroll to the shaken entryway, where even one amiable thump can hurt the well used wood enormously.

A mirror hangs dubiously on a solitary nail, right by where I'm standing. I look at myself by and by, taking in my shoddy red hair, tangled and tangled, that I ordinarily maneuver once more into a furious pigtail. My nose, slanted as usual, sticks out somewhat, an irritating component I totally disdain. My marginally surprising body conceals under a portion of the main garments I own, a loose shirt and free pants, telling nobody I even have a figure. Regardless of whether I wear a skin-tight dress, I am short to the point that folks would need to go as far as see my shape. My lips and appearance? Not a huge deal.

My eyes are the main things I like about myself by any means, and even they are not terrific contrasted with that god-like man I saw the previous evening. I'm the most un-beneficial young lady at school, and for good explanation. I don't for a moment even show what little I do have, concealing my eyes behind thick glasses and covering my graciousness under pomposity.

I handle the metal door handle with my fingers, winding it, and afterward pull it open rapidly. My eyes enlarge in shock, my structure actually, frozen with shock.

"Hello Isla," a profound, manly voice murmurs to the breeze, winding around its way towards my ears.