The Ghost In Her Eyes

Chapter Two 

"Enough," a voice drawled from above.

It was lazy but powerful. And it was commanding the room without effort. 

Eileen lifted her head, her vision swimming, and suddenly locked eyes with the man on the stairs. 

Callister Haemont. 

The Alpha’s son. The next in line. The werewolf her father supposedly wanted to eliminate.

She hated his father and she hated him too. 

His gaze pinned her in place. There was something different about him. It was not just his striking features, but the way his presence filled the room. 

His brown eyes were darker than she remembered. They were filled with something unreadable as he leaned against the banister. 

"I want her. She will serve me," he said at last. 

Brenda stiffened. "But I want to punish her. She doesn't deserve to serve the next Alpha. She… she…" 

"Are you questioning me?" This was probably the first time any of them had heard him raise his voice or snap at anyone. Not that he was kind or humble. Callister was just uninterested in anything related to the pack. He was either in his room reading or painting.

Brenda bit her lip, as her expression twisted. Whatever she had planned, it was ruined now. For the first time after a long while, Eileen was happy. She was happy to see that look on her face.

The guards hesitated only for a second before shoving Eileen toward the stairs leading to Callister. 

She stumbled but forced her legs to move. Her back finally burned from the beatings. Her body begged for rest, but she couldn’t afford to collapse now. 

Not when she wanted to show Brenda she was better than whatever she thought she was competing with her. Not when she could feel the weight of Callister’s gaze on her, watching. 

She didn’t know why he had stopped the punishment… and that too on the Eighteenth. She didn't know why he wanted her in his chambers. But she knew one thing. 

Whatever awaited her in that room might be worse than the dungeon. 

********

The chamber was nothing like she expected. 

It was far larger than any room she had ever seen, more like a castle within the mansion itself. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with old, worn tomes and leather-bound journals. Some leaned precariously as if they had been pulled out in haste. 

Paintings, both finished and unfinished, were scattered across the space. Some rested against the walls, others abandoned on easels.

Then there was the bigger mess. 

Bottles of wine, whiskey, and other alcohol littered the floor. Some rolled near the window, others barely clung to the edge of a nearby shelf. 

Was he an alcoholic as well?

This looked like he was a mess. It showed he was irresponsible. If her father had truly wanted to fight his position, was it not right to do so? 

Imagine someone as messy as this, handling a whole pack. Even if it were true that her father was a traitor, would he be wrong not wanting him as Alpha?

"Pour me a drink," Callister’s voice cut through her thoughts. 

She flinched, her gaze snapping to where he lounged on a chair, as his brown eyes watched her. His gaze made the room feel even smaller as he watched her with suspicious eyes. Who would blame him, Eileen's father didn't want him. 

Oh, she wanted to hang his head in public just as he had watched his father order them to do to her parents. She wanted to strangle him.

She moved toward the nearest bottle, her fingers trembling. She had served drinks before but never like this. Never in a place that felt like a prison.

Callister tugged at the collar of his shirt, his fingers moving lazily as he loosened the fabric. The top buttons slipped undone, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest. 

"Now." He ordered.

She obeyed. She had no choice. 

Eileen reached for the bottle, careful not to step on the others littering the floor. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it and poured the liquid into a cup. 

She hesitated for only a second before stepping forward and extending the drink to him with both hands. 

Callister took it without a word. He brought the cup to his lips and tipped his head back, draining the content in one go. 

“Another.” His voice was quiet but firm. 

Eileen swallowed and obeyed, refilling the glass. 

He took it again, drinking just as fast. Then he handed it back. 

“More.” 

She poured. He drank. 

Again. 

And again. 

By the eleventh drink, his grip on the cup slackened slightly before he caught himself. His eyes, darker now, he flickered toward her. 

“Are you afraid of me?” he murmured. She knew it was his wolf. 

Her fingers trembled as she gazed back at him. 

She swallowed when he didn't look away. She knew better than to answer. 

He leaned forward. "Tell me, did you think I wouldn’t notice?" 

Her breath caught. Notice what?

He rose from his seat to where she stood, trembling. 

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" 

She stiffened as his fingers traced a line down her arm in a mocking imitation of a lover’s touch. 

Her breath hitched as his other hand trailed down her thighs, slowly but possessively. 

Her pulse pounded so hard it drowned out everything else. 

She knew where this was going. 

Fear coiled in her stomach, raw and unrelenting. 

Her lips trembled as the word barely escaped. “Please.” It was a whisper. A plea. 

Callister stilled. For a moment, something flickered in his darkened gaze... something she couldn’t name. But then, with a sudden, violent motion, he reached for her fully. 

The sharp sound of fabric tearing filled the room. 

Her robe hung in tatters as her bare shoulders trembled beneath the hunger and anger of his gaze. 

"Why are you saying please?" he growled, his voice thick with alcohol and something dangerous. His grip tightened, heat radiating from him like a storm barely held at bay. It was his wolf. He had taken control. A wolf was hard to handle but an angry one? 

His eyes burned into hers, searching, accusing. 

"You wanted this, I know you do.” The words were sharp, filled with disgust. "You drugged me for it." Though he accused her, he still went ahead to touch her.

Eileen’s breath caught in her throat. 

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. 

But he wasn’t listening. He had already made up his mind. 

She had survived beatings. Torture. The weight of a pack’s hatred. But this… this was different. 

And she wasn’t sure she could survive it. Though she didn't dare to resist his touches. She was now a servant and he was the next Alpha. 

Did he save her so he could do this? She touched the necklace around her neck for comfort, yet, at that moment, she found none.