Boxed Set

by Brenda K. Davies

  "Where's Jess?" she asked as strode toward the fridge.

  "She moved out!" Ian called to her.

  Isabelle froze with her hand on the handle. "What?" she blurted as a bubble of hope bloomed forth. She shoved it aside. "Why?"

  She stepped back to peer into the living room again. All heads turned toward Stefan. He looked at her, his face expressionless, and his eyes distant. "We broke up,” he explained.

  Isabelle thought she might be sick. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and swung the fridge open. She was hungry, and in desperate need of a shower to ease the chill in her bones. She grabbed a bag of blood and headed for the stairs.

  "I'm going to take a shower so don't even think about flushing the toilets!" she yelled over her shoulder.

  "Would we do that?" Jack called innocently.

  Isabelle ignored their laughter as she made her way up the stairs.

  "Why does she do that?" Stefan asked the minute Isabelle was out of earshot.

  "Boss us around? Because it makes her feel better," Ian answered absently.

  "It makes us feel better," Ethan added with a chuckle. "It keeps her happy, which in turn keeps the rest of us happy."

  "Yeah, Isabelle can make your life a living hell if she's mad at you," Mike supplied.

  Stefan knew firsthand how miserable she could make someone's life when she wanted to, but all of that was going to change tonight. Jess was out of the house, and Isabelle no longer had any reason to fight him, or herself. He began to harden as he thought about all the wonderful things he was going to teach and do to her.

  "I already figured that out," he muttered. They all shot him questioning looks he chose to ignore. "I meant why doesn't she feed in front of you?"

  "Because we used to tease her about it when we were younger. We told her she was ugly when she did it, that she looked like a freak, and all kinds of other stuff. She hasn't fed in front of anyone since she was eight," Ethan explained.

  Stefan was stunned to find himself annoyed with them. All he could picture was a small Isabelle, in pigtails, crying over her brothers’ taunting. It was something that obviously affected her. His jaw clenched as his hands curled involuntarily into the arms of the chair. It didn't matter they’d all been children, all tormented each other, all he could think about was the anguish they’d inflicted on her.

  He'd never felt so protective or defensive of someone. He was growing to care for the girl, he realized with mixed feelings of awe and dismay. No matter how much he never wanted it to happen, it was a pleasant realization. The thought helped to ease the anguish of his joyless soul, a soul he would never let her glimpse.

  He would have her, she would be his, but she would never know anything about his past. It was the only conclusion he came to in the long, discomforting night. She helped to ease his torment, because of that he wanted her more than any other woman he’d ever met, but he vowed she would never know the more sinister side of the world, or himself.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a small smile crossed his face as he thought about what tonight would bring. He had to get the little witch to concede to his will, but he was certain it wouldn't be too difficult. He was beginning to understand why she’d stayed away from him. For all of Isabelle's bluff and bluster, inside she was scared and frightened of being hurt. He could, and would, ease her fear.

  The screen door swung open again. He opened his eyes, tensing as Jess came into the house. He had spoken to her a little this morning as he'd helped her carry her stuff out, but he hadn't expected to see her again, and he didn't want to see her now.

  "I forgot my toothbrush," Jess said.

  Before Stefan could stop her, she headed up the steps.

  Isabelle was coming out of the bathroom, dressed in one of Ethan's old T-shirts, with her clothes tucked under her arm when Jess stepped into the hallway. Isabelle couldn't breathe from the force of the hostility radiating from the girl.

  "I hope you're happy now!" Jess spat.

  Isabelle was taken aback by the waves of hatred beating against her. She’d never thought it possible for someone to hate her as much as Jess did. "Jess, I didn't want this," she whispered.

  Jess snorted angrily. "I doubt that."

  "I didn't!" she protested. She wanted to tell her nothing was going on, but she wasn't going to lie to her. Something was going on; she just wasn't sure what it was yet.

  "Don't for a moment think you're special, you're just like all the other sluts he's fucked. He'll use you and toss you aside too, you're—"

  "If I were you, I would get your toothbrush and get out," Stefan growled.

  Isabelle's eyes flew to Stefan as he stepped off the stairs. The cold hostility in his voice sent shivers down her spine as Jess turned to face him. Isabelle wanted to tell her to run for her life, but the words caught in her throat. Isabelle had never seen him look so deadly. Even when he was livid with her, even when he grabbed her, she hadn't been as frightened of him as she was now. She actually worried, truly believed, he might kill Jess.

  Jess hung her head and scurried past Isabelle into the bathroom. Light pooled into the hall, illuminating Stefan as he glided forward and stopped a foot away from the bathroom door. His posture was casual as he leaned against the wall, but the hostility radiating from him was evident in his clenched jaw and the muscle twitching in his cheek. Isabelle fought back a shudder. It wasn't directed at her, but his wrath still frightened her.

  Jess came back out quickly, flicking the light off, and casting them in darkness. She stood uncertainly in the hall, her toothbrush clutched in her hand, as she stared at Stefan warily. Stefan waved his hand elegantly for her to pass. Jess bowed her head as she bolted quickly past them.

  "Are you okay?"

  No, she was not okay. She was terrified of him, of everything happening to her. Jess's words echoed loudly in her head, and the truth of them caused a pit to open in her stomach. She bit her lip as she lifted her gaze to his and forced herself to nod. Strands of wet hair fell into her face, and she instantly pushed them away. He remained silent as his gaze bored into her soul. She didn't know what to say, what to do. All reasonable thought fled under his intense scrutiny.

  "I uh... I'm sorry about you and Jess," she managed to stutter out.

  "Why? I'm not. It's been over for three days now; I just finally got her to leave the house."

  Isabelle knew he was trying to tell her something with that statement; she chose to ignore it. Just like she opted to ignore the fact he'd slept on the couch for the last three nights. She didn't have all her feelings sorted out as it was; she needed more time to assimilate this bit of information on top of everything else.

  "If it had anything to do with me, I'll explain there's nothin between us," she said hesitantly.

  "Isn't there?" he murmured.

  "No!" she cried.

  His eyes were feral in the night as a small smile curved his full lips. "If we hadn't been interrupted last night—"

  "I would have come to my senses!" Isabelle cried as a dull heat suffused her body at the reminder.

  "And tonight?"

  Her heart began to trip hammer in her chest, and her mouth went suddenly dry. "What about tonight?" she managed to choke out.

  "What will you do when I come to your room tonight, and there is no one to interrupt us?"

  Isabelle's body quickened in anticipation as she gazed breathlessly at him. She wanted to tell him she would welcome him with open arms, but it stuck in her throat. It got stuck on her pride. She wouldn't give in to him so easily. She couldn't. "I'll tell you to get out."

  The shadows embraced his body as he moved closer to her. She tilted her chin defiantly, but she felt anything but defiant. She felt like a quivering mass of raw nerve endings, all of which were screaming for his touch. His hand stroked her cheek. Isabelle started as everything in her reacted to his touch. Her heart hammered so rapidly she was certain it would explode.

  "Will you really?"

  It took
her a second to recall what they’d been discussing. "Yes," she managed to choke out.

  He took a step closer; his chest brushed against hers. Isabelle tilted her head back to meet his smoky gaze as he bent his head. His lips brushed against hers in a butterfly touch. The soft flicker of his tongue against her lips caused the room to tilt, the floor to fall away, and the entire world to become centered on him and only him.

  Her mouth opened to his questing tongue. He only meant to taste her and show her there was something between them. However, she tasted so good, and was so responsive, he found himself losing track of his objective and wanting to devour her.

  He broke away before he couldn't. She blinked dazedly up at him, her eyes smoky as shivers ran through her body. "We'll find out tonight."

  The bewildered look in her eyes vanished almost instantly. "You wouldn't dare!"

  "Maybe, maybe not."

  He turned away from her and descended the stairs before he dragged her into his room and took her now. The thought of the others downstairs was the only thing stopping him. He was going to see her later, but he didn't want them to know about it. Her room would be much more private, and secure, for what he intended. There would be no stopping him tonight.

  Isabelle slumped against the wall, trepidation and anticipation warring so turbulently within her she could barely breathe. She wanted to run for her life. At the same time she wanted to curl up in bed and wait for him to come to her. She had no doubt he would show up in her room tonight. She needed to decide if she would be there or not.

  As it turned out, the decision was taken from her hands. The minute she returned to the living room, Ian asked if she wanted to go into the city. Normally she would say no, but tonight she jumped at the opportunity. She ignored everyone's astonishment as she eagerly accepted and ran down to her room. This would be her chance to prove she could be attracted to other men, that Stefan wasn't the only one who affected her.

  She threw on her favorite black dress. Her mother had given it to her for Christmas two years ago; she'd never worn it out, but she'd tried it on often, loving the way it felt. It was loose and flowing, yet it emphasized the swell of her breasts, her small waist, and round hips before ending at mid-thigh. She knew Ian went to clubs when he went out, and the dress would fit in perfectly. Brushing out her wet hair, she grabbed her black high heels and bolted out of the room.

  Everyone gazed at her in disbelief as she stepped back into the living room.

  "Shit, Issy, I don't remember the last time I saw you in a dress!" Mike cried.

  "What?" Jack demanded as he poked his head around the doorway. His mouth dropped open. "You're not wearing that!"

  "Shut up, Jack!" she yelled at him.

  "I'm with Jack." Ethan folded his arms over his chest and stared at her in disapproval.

  She cast him an angry glare. "No one asked you."

  "Isabelle—" Jack started.

  "You go to clubs, right?" she interrupted.

  "Well uh, yeah, but—"

  "I can't walk in there wearing jeans."

  "But—" he stammered.

  "For crying out loud, Jack, I'm twenty-three years old! I think I should be able to wear whatever I want!" she retorted, tired of being babied and coddled.

  His hazel eyes gleamed angrily, but he nodded briskly and ducked out of the doorway. A minute later the screen door opened and banged shut. "You'd better hurry up, he might leave you behind," David warned.

  "I'll kill him!"

  She hurried toward the door, slipping her shoes on as she went. "Isabelle, you look good!"

  "Thanks, Doug." At least she could count on someone not to act like a total ass all the time.

  She hurried out the door and ran toward Jack's idling car. Throwing open the back door she slid in, eager to escape the house and Stefan. Ian gawked at her in the dim light. "Not one word," she warned.

  "What are you wearing?" he demanded, completely ignoring her.

  Isabelle rolled her eyes and turned to slam the door shut. A pair of gleaming onyx eyes stopped her in her tracks. Her breath froze as Stefan stared at her from the front seat. He looked irritated, but the hunger in his gaze caused her toes to curl in her shoes. It was only then she realized he hadn't been in the living room.

  "Shut the door!" Jack barked apparently still annoyed at her for the confrontation in the house.

  Isabelle glanced longingly out the door. She could jump out now, say she’d changed her mind and run back into the house. Surely, he wouldn't follow her. Actually, she was certain he would. She was trapped. If she got out now, he would be in her room. If she stayed, she could get away from him at the club, and she would find another man who appealed to her. Isabelle slammed the door, and the light turned off.

  Stefan turned around in his seat, his jaw clenched. He couldn't believe she thought to evade him by taking off with her brother and Jack. He also couldn't believe what she was wearing. A muscle began to twitch in his cheek from the clenching of his jaw. Every man there was going to be after her. The thought infuriated him beyond belief. His hands clenched into fists as he turned to look out the window.

  If this was the way she wanted to play, fine. He was going to give as well as he received. There would be lots of women there. Lots of women who would be more than eager to warm his bed, not run away from him.

  "I cannot believe you're wearing that," Ian muttered.

  Stefan hid a grin as he realized her brother was almost as upset about the provocative dress as him. Although, her brother was worried about it because of men like him, who wanted nothing more than to rip it off her, reveal her splendid body, and take her. He was worried he might rip it off her before the night was over.

  "It's a perfectly fine dress," she retorted.

  "For a hooker," Jack mumbled.

  "You would know!" she snapped.

  "Hey! I have never paid for it! And we're only looking out for your safety!" Jack protested hotly.

  Isabelle seethed as she clenched her hands in her lap. She didn't need this, especially not in front of Stefan. "And how is that?"

  "You're such an innocent, Isabelle," Jack muttered. "Abby and Vicky have more common sense than you do."

  She stared at them in disbelief. "Are you telling me you would rather see Vicky or Abby in this dress, than me?" she demanded.

  "Yes!" they both cried.

  Isabelle sat in dumbfounded silence, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Why?" she inquired.

  "Because Vicky and Abby at least have some idea of men, you don't," Ian retorted. "They can handle a man —you can't."

  Isabelle's face flamed red. She despised the fact they were talking about her like this right now. In front of him! She fought the urge to punch them both in the face. "That's ridiculous!"

  Stefan didn't think it was at all ridiculous. She didn't have any idea about her effect on a man, or what a man was capable of doing.

  "Do you have any concept of men?" Jack demanded.

  "Maybe if I’d ever met one I would!" she retorted furiously.

  Stefan bit his lip to keep from laughing. To think he’d been feeling sorry for her because her brothers teased her about feeding. He now realized Isabelle gave as good as she got and was more than capable of handling them.

  "We're going to have to beat the guys off you!" Ian yelled.

  "Then there will be less of them for you to worry about while you're looking to get laid," she retorted. "Besides, I can handle myself perfectly fine, thank you."

  "Isabelle—" Jack started.

  "Look, I am a grown woman; I don't need anyone to raise me anymore. I can handle myself and anything that happens. Besides, I'm stronger than any human male, so I think I can protect myself around them. Now back off!"

  "Never could talk reason into your thick skull," Jack muttered.

  Isabelle turned to the window, her face flushed with annoyance and embarrassment. There were times she greatly wished she had no family at all, and this was one of them. It didn't help sh
e could sense Stefan's humor. They were yelling at her about the men in the club, yet the one they should be worried about they’d invited to come with them!

  Well, she'd show them all. She was a grown woman, and she could handle herself, especially with a human. It was the man sitting in front of her that she couldn't handle herself around.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isabelle immediately wished she wasn't such a coward. She could have stood up to Stefan in her room; she could have told him to leave. She could have made him leave. Instead, she ran like a deer straight into the lion's den. The club was packed. The flashing lights, music, and the overwhelming smell of sweat, alcohol, and blood were enough to make her head pound the minute they walked in.

  Isabelle stopped in the doorway to take everything in through the mass of bodies and the pulsating lights. The dance floor was beneath them, down a narrow set of metal stairs. There was no room on it as men and women ground against each other.

  She was wearing more clothes than most of the women here. She scowled at Jack and Ian, who wisely chose to ignore her. Compared to most of the women here, she was dressed like a nun!

  Lights of all different colors flashed on and off over the floor. So loud, the music shook the metal balcony beneath her feet. Isabelle fought the urge to cover her ears and close her eyes to block everything out.

  "Come on, Issy!" Ian yelled in her ear.

  She didn't want to go, but he grabbed her elbow and propelled her down the stairs. She halted at the bottom, uncertain of where to go. Ian released her elbow and began to make his way through the crowd, somehow finding a path she would never know existed.

  A young girl grabbed his arm. He was instantly swallowed up, and so was the path. She found herself briefly engulfed by the thick mass of bodies, completely uncertain of where to go.

  Stefan clasped her elbow and pulled her along as he parted the crowd. Isabelle followed soundlessly behind, too afraid of getting lost in the mob to protest his high-handed treatment of her. She breathed a sigh of relief as the crowd parted to reveal a group of tables, most of them empty. Stefan led her to one, and she slumped gratefully into a chair.