Boxed Set

by Brenda K. Davies

  "I'll kill you if you ever lay a hand on her again! If you ever look at her again!" he roared. Jess went limp in his grasp as tears filled her eyes. "Do you hear me?"

  Jess whimpered again.

  "Stefan, please don't," Isabelle begged, pulling on his arm. She had about as much effect on him as a flea would.

  "Do you hear me?" he bellowed.

  "Yes!" Jess cried. "Yes!"

  He stood for a moment longer before he finally released her. Jess stumbled back, her knees buckled as she slumped to the floor before staggering quickly back up. Isabelle took a step toward her, meaning to help, but Stefan grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Jess cast them a frantic look before racing from the room.

  "Are you okay?" he demanded.

  Isabelle whirled toward him as she ripped her arm free of his grasp. "No!" she yelled. "No, I'm not!"

  His face eased as he took a step toward her, but she backed away rapidly, shaking her head as she held up her hands to ward him off. "Isabelle—"

  "Stay away from me!"

  Tears spilled down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around herself and began to tremble uncontrollably. Her beautiful cheek was reddened and guaranteed to bruise; blood dotted her split lip, trickling down her trembling chin. The smell of it, sweet and metallic surged into him and caused something primitive and feral to burst free. He fisted his hands as he desperately tried to bring it under control, to reign in his wild need to drink from her.

  He was dying to taste her, to have her taste him, to fill her in every way, but he continued to hold back. He was no longer afraid of what it would mean, but he saw the distress filling her eyes whenever he looked at her neck. That distress kept him at bay, but it was increasingly difficult not to take her.

  Now, smelling her, seeing it on her, he was incredibly close to losing all control and forcing her. He knew it was the final step, the one thing to bind them forever, and they would have to do it, but he’d assumed he had time for it. He was wrong.

  She absently wiped the blood from her mouth. Stefan's eyes fastened on it as hunger rocked him. Isabelle whimpered. She stared at him warily, her eyes bright with tears.

  "No," she said.

  "Let's go."

  She shook her head. Stefan fought against his mounting frustration as he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath.

  "I need to be alone. I need to think!" she cried.

  "There is nothing to think about!" he nearly roared.

  She jumped, and her eyes darted anxiously toward the doorway. He was terrifying her right now. She saw the craving in his gaze when he saw her blood. She recalled the pain of the last time someone drank from her. It was seared permanently into her nerve endings, into her brain, and she would never let it happen again.

  His hunger, on top of what happened with Jess, was more than she could stand. She was still shaking from Jess's brutal attack and Stefan's overwhelming vehemence. She needed to be alone, needed time to think. She was much too rattled for this right now.

  "I just need a few minutes," she mumbled, trying to stall for time to get a hold on her shaking body.

  "For what?" he demanded.

  "She hates me!" He took a step closer to her. Isabelle took another one back, and her heel connected with the wall. She’d trapped herself. He took another step toward her. "Because of you!"

  Rage sizzled and blazed through him. "There’s nothing I can do about that!"

  "Just give me time to think!"

  "Think about what?"

  "To sort things out!"

  He was before her, his hands on the wall beside her head before she saw him move. His eyes blazed with a fire that caused an involuntary cry of alarm to erupt from her.

  "I cannot undo my past, Isabelle," he hissed.

  "Don't hurt me."

  Her whispered plea managed to rip through his fury as her hand fluttered over her mouth. The alarm in her gaze, and the trembling in her body, caused self-hatred and disgust to roll forth as he slumped toward her.

  "I'll never hurt you, Isabelle," he promised. "I'm sorry about Jess, I truly am, but I can't do anything to change it. She'll be gone soon, and I swear I won't let her touch you again."

  She bit down on her bottom lip to repress a sob and instantly regretted the action as a flash of pain shook her. His eyes flashed onto the blood flowing forth again.

  "No!" she screamed as she shoved against him.

  Stefan was briefly knocked off balance by the strength behind her sudden thrust. Regaining his balance, he took her arm before she could bolt from the room. She spun wildly and lashed out. He grabbed her hand before she could claw into his face. Isabelle sobbed and jerked at her arm as she frantically tried to break the iron hold on her wrist. He took her other arm and pinned it to her side as he held her firmly.

  She tried desperately to escape him, but his hold was like a steel vice on her. He was ten times stronger than she was and more determined. There would be no getting free of him; he would do whatever he wanted to her.

  "You said you wouldn't hurt me!" she cried.

  Stefan closed his eyes against the tumult of emotions rocking him. Her panic was tangible as it beat against him in pulsating waves. It was the only thing keeping the demon in him at bay, the only thing keeping him somewhat in control. Her words about needing time to think things out, and her attempt to get away from him, nearly shattered every ounce of restraint he possessed. It brought the demon bursting forth instantly.

  She was his, and he was growing tired of holding himself back from possessing her in every way. He was sick of the fight she still waged against him, even if she didn't realize she was doing it. She was frightened of what would happen if he drank from her, but it was something that needed to be done. Otherwise, he would snap, and force it on her, and she would never forgive him if he did. He would never forgive himself. It was going to happen soon though, whether she was willing, or not.

  "I don't want to hurt you, Isabelle."

  "I can see, Stefan! I know what you want!"

  "It's what I need! You are mine, Isabelle."

  "I..." she gulped as tears slid down her cheeks. "I know that."

  He took a deep breath as he clenched his jaw. He knew she didn't understand what he was trying to tell her. He forced himself to release her arms; she was scared enough without being trapped. He walked over and picked up the box, determined to show her he wasn't going to force anything on her. Not yet anyway. If she kept fighting him, he didn't know what would happen. The taking of her blood would be painful again if she resisted him, but if she didn't...

  He didn't know how it would feel if she didn't resist him. All the humans he fed on never knew because he blocked it from their minds and memories. The only person who ever fed from him, except Kyle, was the woman who changed him, and it was the most excruciating experience of his life. He knew why Isabelle feared it, recalled the agony that claimed him, but he also knew this was something he wanted, something he needed with every ounce of his heart, and soul.

  "Let's talk about this later."

  He hefted the box and turned to face her. "Stefan—"

  "Later, Isabelle."

  She wanted to fight with him, wanted to protest his highhanded, commanding manner, but she instinctively knew he would become incensed again. She saw the rage consuming him, saw the near loss of control he exhibited. She was scared it would happen again, and this time he wouldn't come back.

  Isabelle shuddered as she wrapped her arms around herself. She knew what he wanted from her, but she couldn't give it to him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "I can't believe that bitch slapped you!"

  "Abigail!" her mother said sharply.

  Abby sent her a rueful look, but her eyes were full of fire as she turned back to Isabelle. "You should have hit her back!"

  "She has a right to be mad, Abby," Isabelle said.

  "She does not!" Vicky yelled.

  Isabelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she prayed fo
r patience. She didn't need her sisters ranting and raving on top of everything else on her mind. The day was totaling up to a bad one. It didn't help Stefan gave her the time she requested, and went with her father and David to feed. Her body longed for his return. It was beginning to be almost intolerable.

  She slapped the roller against the wall as she grit her teeth against the clawing ache in her body.

  "I'm glad she's leaving tomorrow. I don't know how Kathleen has such a miserable bi... witch for a daughter." Abby caught herself just in time as her mother shot her a warning look.

  "I don't know what Stefan saw in her in the first place. I mean, how could he be with someone like that?"

  Isabelle's jaw clenched as jealousy tore through her. For a moment, the room was shaded in a haze of red as her hands tightened in a death grip on the roller handle.

  "He could have his choice of women, what—"

  "Vicky!" Isabelle threw her roller down and spun to face her sisters.

  "What?" she asked in confusion.

  "Enough!" Isabelle barked.

  "I was just saying—"

  "Why don't you girls go on home," her mother interrupted as she turned to face them. Her eyes focused questioningly on Isabelle. "It's getting late."

  They were about to protest but decided better of it as they looked back at Isabelle. "Okay," Vicky mumbled.

  "We'll see you tomorrow," Abby said.

  Isabelle rubbed tiredly at her eyes.

  "Care to tell me what's wrong?" her mother inquired.

  "What isn't wrong?" she muttered.

  "Isabelle—"

  She held up a hand, needing a few minutes to gather her thoughts. Everything inside of her was a mess. She needed Stefan with her. She had wanted him to go away, to give her time to think; now all she wanted was for him to come back. It hurt when he left. She couldn't think, she could barely even function, and now jealousy was clawing at her insides again. He would be feeding from women, and she couldn't help but wonder what else he would do with them. The thought brought the vampire in her to the forefront. She trembled as she struggled to draw it back, to keep it under reign.

  Finally, she lifted her head and met her mother's troubled gaze. "I just... I feel... awful," she breathed.

  Her mother smiled knowingly and nodded as she dropped her roller down. "He'll be back soon."

  "I know it's just I don't know what he's doing, where he is, or who he's with!"

  Her mother's forehead furrowed as the jealousy in her sizzled to life. It clawed at her and ripped her insides apart. "Isabelle, he's not with anyone else."

  "How do I know that? You heard Vicky and Abby, he could have his choice of women, and I don't know what he's doing with them!"

  "He doesn't want anyone but you. You are it, for eternity. I doubted it at first. I thought your father would grow tired of me, or find someone else, or want someone else, but it's impossible, Isabelle. As unbelievable as that sounds, it is impossible."

  Isabelle almost slumped against the wall but managed to catch herself in time. "Why?"

  Her mother smiled and shrugged. "I don't know, but if you don't believe me, ask yourself if you would ever want anyone else?"

  The answer to that question was instantaneous. "No."

  "Trust me when I tell you it is the same for him."

  Isabelle nodded as she glanced around the empty living room. She was far from mollified. Her mother and father were different. Isabelle wasn't even sure how Stefan felt about her, besides thinking she belonged to him and they were soul mates, but she wanted more. She wanted his love, and she wasn't sure she had it.

  "There's more, isn't there?" her mom asked.

  "Is it painful when dad bites you?"

  Her mother frowned as her eyes darkened worriedly. "At first it hurt, but now, not at all. Why?"

  Isabelle wrapped her arms around herself as she turned her gaze back to the window. "I was just wondering," she mumbled.

  "Isabelle—"

  The opening of the door cut off whatever her mother was going to say. Isabelle's heart picked up with anticipation as her arms fell back to her sides. Acute disappointment crashed over her as Ethan came strolling in with Jack and Ian. Boxes were balanced haphazardly in their arms as they paused in the doorway to take in the half-painted living room.

  "Looking good," Jack commented.

  "Us or the walls?" her mom asked happily.

  "Both," Jack replied with a grin. "Although, I'm not sure what has more paint on it, you guys or the walls."

  Isabelle smiled as she glanced down at her paint-splattered clothing and arms. She was usually meticulous when she painted, but tonight she’d been unable to keep her mind focused on what she was doing. "I'm going to take a shower," she muttered.

  Ignoring the curious stares cast her way, she left the room quickly. She rushed up the stairs, suddenly needing the sanctuary of her room and the comfort of a shower. She stayed beneath the pounding stream of water, hoping it would ease her. When it became obvious the water wasn't going to alleviate her anguish, she shut it off and climbed out.

  She slid her nightgown over her head, brushed her hair, and moved back into the bedroom. Stefan's scent lingered everywhere, only serving to reinforce the tearing loneliness ripping at her heart and stomach. She sat dejectedly on the bed, drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them to ward off the desolation consuming her. Tears slid down her cheeks as she watched time slip by slowly.

  It was after eleven when the door finally swung open. A cry of delight escaped her as she jumped off the bed and raced over to him. He grunted from the force of her impact as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. He kicked the door shut before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close against him.

  The feel of him instantly caused the ache inside her to ease, but her worry remained as she tried desperately to get closer to him, to bury herself in him. It wasn't enough; she couldn't get close enough.

  He lifted her chin with his finger. "What's the matter, love?"

  She shuddered as the endearment slipped from him and caused her insides to melt. "It hurts," she whispered. "When you go away. I was scared you wouldn't come back."

  "I'm not going anywhere, Isabelle, ever." His tone was much harsher than he’d intended, but how could she doubt his feelings for her?

  "You left once."

  He ground his teeth as frustration gripped him. "I'm not going anywhere without you, Isabelle. The way you feel when we're apart is the way I feel."

  She stared doubtfully up at him; her lower lip trembled as tears coursed down her cheeks. "You can have anyone you want."

  Exasperation rolled through him. She needed to know how he felt, needed to know she was his, and there would be no separating them. There was only one way he knew how to do that for sure. Sharing blood would seal their bond, allow her to see into him, and for him to see into her. He couldn't be entirely sure of how she felt until he could open the pathway of communication between them.

  He grabbed hold of her waist, lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. He sat on the edge of it and settled her onto his lap. Her lashes fell to veil her eyes and shadow her cheeks. He nudged her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. The vulnerability in her gaze tore at his heart.

  "Isabelle, we're soul mates. You belong to me, you're a part of me, and I am a part of you."

  She nodded as her eyes searched his face. "But—"

  "There are no buts," he said forcefully. "That's the way it is. You may not have wanted it, hell I didn't want it." Heartache flashed through her eyes. He silently cursed himself. He was supposed to be easing her troubles and doubts, not adding to them. "But I wouldn't change any of it. If I knew you were here, I would have come for you sooner. I was growing tired of traveling, tired of living alone. When I came here and saw how happy everyone was, I wanted the same thing. When I first met you, I wanted you with an intensity so consuming it bordered on obsession. When I left here,
I couldn’t control myself or what I was doing. I have thought of nothing but you since the instant we met."

  "What about Jess?"

  His eyes flashed with rage. "Shit, Isabelle, why can't you ever listen to what I'm saying to you! Must you always fight me?"

  She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "I don't mean to, I just... I'm jealous," she confessed, her lids lowered to shadow her eyes again as a blush crept into her cheeks.

  The confession shot a bolt of pure male satisfaction through him. He was glad she was jealous, even if it did upset her. It helped to assure him she truly did care for him, and he was happy to realize he wasn't the only one in this relationship who became easily jealous. He smiled as he brushed her hair from her cheek and pushed it behind her ear.

  "I can't change my past, but the minute I met you, I didn't want anyone else," he said.

  He was lying to her, and if he would lie to her about this, he would lie to her about anything. Her eyes flew back to his. "Don't lie to me. I smelled her on you!"

  His jaw clenched, and a vein popped out on his forehead. She glared defiantly back at him, refusing to back down.

  "I am not lying to you," he grated.

  Isabelle fought to break free of his grasp. He pulled her back; his hands on her were rigid as he clung to her. She ceased struggling as she turned toward him, her eyes burning a brilliant shade of red. It was the first time he’d ever seen her completely lose control of the demon within her, and it jolted the anger out of him.

  "If you would lie about this, then what else are you lying about?" she yelled.

  It took him a second to realize it was more fear than anger riling her up. He reached up to brush her cheek with his finger.

  She slapped his hand away as tears filled her eyes. "Don't!"

  He took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. She was upset, and angry, and scared he didn't care for her. The only thing he could do to put her mind at ease was tell her the truth. That was the last thing he wanted to do. She already wielded enough power over him without handing her another weapon.

  "I went to bed that night with Jess, but I didn't finish. I barely started. I couldn't get you out of my head. I got no satisfaction that night, or any afterward, until you. That is the truth."