Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-One
Isabelle had somehow managed to convince herself that it had all been a dream. That she was still inside the SUV, driving her back to Khalil, and that Sean was still in the driver’s seat, steering them to the safety of her husband’s pack.  

She was painfully disappointed.  

Panic surged inside Isabelle as she opened her eyes to the same ceiling, realizing that she was still held captive by her fated mate. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she slowly turned her head to the side, expecting to see Lucien lying naked next to her again, but thankfully, she was disappointed. She heaved a sigh of relief, deciding that she would attempt her except again. She refused to continue to be held captive by that bastard.  

All optimism she had was immediately thrown out the window. She jumped down from the bed to hear the rattling of chains. Her heart beat even harder in her chest, and her eyes opened wide in shock. Surely, she had heard wrong; her ears must have been playing tricks on her. 

Surely, it couldn’t be what she thought it to be. Surely, that madman would not chain her, subject her to such inhumane and dehumanizing treatment. She slowly looked down at her ankle and choked on a sob. Not even in her father’s house had she been subjected to such conditions.  

Isabelle slowly lowered herself to the floor, tears flowing down her cheeks as she stared at her chained foot. Her ankles were red and angry, and it was then she realized that they weren’t ordinary
chains. They were coated in wolfsbane. She touched the chains and immediately winced as her skin tinged.  
“Fuck…” she swore under her breath.  

Fresh determination washed over her. She needed to remove herself from the reach of this man; she needed to be as far away from him as possible. She needed to reach Khalil by any means necessary. 

She was afraid for herself. If he could chain her down to prevent her escape, if he could hold her down against her will, she wasn’t safe there.  

Isabelle took a deep breath and yanked at the chains with renewed determination, ignoring the smell of burning flesh as she continued her assault on herself, tears streaming down her cheeks at the pain in both her body and soul.  

She had managed to escape her father, escape the torture that she had endured there; she had managed to make it to a place where she never had to worry about being treated like a slave, a place where all she had to do was be…all she had to do was exist.  

And then that bastard had managed to take her back to a place where she never wished to return. Tears flowed harder, blurring her vision as she continued to pull at the chains at her ankle.  

“Ah, I see that you’re awake…” 

Isabelle gasped loudly and turned to see Lucien waltzing into her room with a maid behind him, pushing a trolley. The scent of the covered food assaulted her senses, and her stomach growled, reminding her that they lacked sustenance.  

Lucien’s eyes raked her from head to toe, and his brows drew down in a frown as his eyes settled on her ankle and her bleeding palms. He swore loudly and rushed to her side and lowered himself to his knees, taking her hands lovingly in his.  

“What is this, Isabelle?” He asked, his voice low, heavy with emotion. “What have you done to yourself?” 

Isabelle watched in bewilderment as he kissed the burns on her hand, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Isabelle glanced at the maid, who immediately looked away, but not before she saw the tiredness and fear in her eyes.  

“What is wrong with you?” Isabelle asked after a spell of silence.  

“What?” 

“What is your problem, Lucien?” She asked again. “There is something wrong with you?” 

Lucien sat on the floor, her hands still in his, his eyes holding her captive.  

“What do you mean?” He asked, his eyes shining with genuine ignorance.  

Isabelle continued to stare into his eyes, waiting for the slip, for his eyes to give away the psychopath that he truly was. She waited for the childlike innocence in his eyes to change, to give way, to show her who he truly was underneath.  

But nothing changed. Rather, he continued to stare at her expectantly, waiting for her to answer his question. Isabelle looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. She silently cursed the moon goddess, wondering if she hated her from conception.  

Why was everything about her different? Everyone dreamed of the day they met their mate, longed to meet the one person that was destined for them, and went on to live happily ever after. 
And then there was her…and this was who the moon goddess had decided was the best match for her? Perhaps she needed to retire from her matchmaking duties? 

“Why did you do this to yourself, Isabelle?” Lucien asked, his voice bringing her back to reality.  

Isabelle slowly opened her eyes and trained them on him.  

“What is wrong with you?!” She yelled, ignoring his question.  

Lucien cocked his head to the side, the child-like wonder still in his eyes. “I don’t understand what it is you mean, my love…” 

“I am not your love!” 

The childlike wonder was shattered, briefly replaced by hurt, which gave way to anger.  

“But you are, my darling,” Lucien replied, his voice cold, void of every warmth that had been there mere seconds ago.  

“I am not…” Isabelle replied meekly, somewhat disconcerted by the very quick and sudden change in his demeanor.  

“You are mine, Isabelle,” he said coldly. “You have always been mine, but that bastard took you away from me. That is a crime he would pay dearly for.” 

Isabelle’s heart lurched into her throat at his blatant threat. In her head, she could hear her wolf growl and whine and wail at the audacity of the man before her to threaten her mate. She wanted to rip out his neck; she wanted to bury him, to submit his dead body to the man they belonged to.  

“You can’t do that…” she said firmly.  

“And why not?”  

“Because he’s my mate.” 

Lucien’s eyes grew stormy, and he gripped her hands tighter, causing Isabelle to wince. She tried to pull her hands away from him, tears streaming down her cheeks as his hands continued to square her burnt hands.  

“You are not his,” Lucien replied, his voice cold and unfeeling, his eyes holding hers captive as his hands tortured hers. “You are mine. You have always been mine. You will always be mine.” 

A sharp cry escaped from her lips as she tried to pull her hands away from his, but he held on tight. The more she struggled, the stronger his hold on her. She closed her eyes and prayed to the moon goddess for Khalil. She wanted him there with her; she wanted to be in his arms. He would never do this to her, he would never chain her like a rabid dog and treat her so callously,  
In that moment, she missed him. She missed him terribly. She wanted him.  

In that moment, she realized that she loved him. 

“Lucien…please…” she begged as she cried out even louder.  

“Beg,” he hissed.  

Isabelle shook her head, wanting to hold on to whatever dignity she had left. But Lucien squeezed her hands further, causing her to scream even louder. 

“Beg.” 

“No!” 

And then he suddenly let go of her hand. Isabelle scuttled back as far as her restraint would allow her, determined to put distance between her and the devil in the room. She glanced at the maid, who quickly looked away, but not before she noticed the tear that had rolled down her cheek. She had forgotten about her presence. She watched as the maid moved closer to the wall and farther away from Lucien, determined to become one with the furniture in the room.  

Her hands throbbed painfully as she held them up to her chest, her eyes blurry and puffy from the tears she had shed.  

“You’re a monster…” Isabelle whispered against her hands, her body shaking from the treatment she had just received.  

Lucien sobered and buried his face in his palm, groaning in regret. He slid across the floor until he sat in front of her; his eyes had lost the coldness in them and had been replaced with guilt. He reached for her hands again, and she rapidly pulled them away out of his reach.  

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, his voice heavy with pain and regret.  

Isabelle shook her head, her eyes wide in shock and pain. “You’re a monster…” she said again, this time louder.  

Lucien gasped, and his eyes opened wide. Inside them, she could see the anger and hurt that her words had cost him. He had a dark soul, and Isabelle was certain that if she probed, she would find that he had an even darker past. 

And this was who the moon goddess thought to be her perfect match? 

“No…” he said, whimpering. “Please, don’t say that to my, my love…you know I will never do anything to hurt you.” 

Isabelle stretched her hands out to his face and then pointed at her chained feet. “You’re harming me!” She screamed. “Look at my hands! Look at my ankle! You’re treating me like a slave!” 

Lucien shook his head again. “No, that’s not what this is!” 

“Then why am I chained up?!” 

“It’s because I love you!” 

Isabelle had thought that she had heard and seen the worst of the man in front of her, but he was insistent on uncovering layers of madness that she never knew to exist.  

“This is all for you…for your own good,” he pressed as he looked at her pleadingly.  

He truly believed his words, and that was what scared Isabelle the most. That he believed the insane profanities that poured from his mouth. He genuinely believed that because he was her fated mate, he had all the right and power in the world to chain her down and hold her against her will.  

Isabelle lowered her head, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.  

“Khalil would never do this to me…” she said to herself.  

“You’re right,” Lucien said. “Khalil has brainwashed you into being his. But I am going to change that. I am going to show you that I am a much better man than he is.” 

“Really? And how are you going to do that? By chaining me up like a dog?!” 

“I only chain you so you don’t run away from me,” he said. “At least not before I tell you the whole truth about him…and about me.” 

Isabelle’s brows drew down in a frown. “What truth are you talking about?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know, my darling Isabelle…” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.  

“About what?” 

Lucien smiled. “About you…about me…about Khalil…your powers…” 

Isabelle gasped as he mentioned her powers. Her head spun in confusion. How had he known? Who had told him? Had her father somehow contacted him before she left his pack? Had they been in cahoots with each other? Had this been the plan all along? Was this why her father had been so willing to help her, so he could pawn her off to the enemy? 
Or maybe it was Fiona? Or Annabelle?  

What was truly happening? 

“How did you know about my powers?” Isabelle asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He sighed heavily and rose to his feet, and pointed at the trolley that had been pushed in by the maid.  

“Eat,” he said. “She’ll be here to ensure you eat well. And then when you’re ready, I’ll tell you everything, and maybe the chains can come off.” 

And with that, he turned around and left, leaving a disturbed Isabelle staring at the door in his wake, and a maid who was waiting to bid the wishes of her master.