Chapter 4

He quickly defended himself. "But mine is in the excitement and anticipation of a possible murder."

Isabella sucked in her breath. He wouldn't kill her, would he? He couldn't. His unfamiliar heartbeat made Isabellastand still - double-tab, pause, tab, pause, tab-tab - it was so tempting, so peaceful.

Then he laughed - his baritone voice cracked at the edges.

In a moment of panic, she saw him for the first time; his billion-dollar emeralds were dark and matched his voice perfectly.

"You look lost," he finally said when the silence became almost unbearable.

"I'm." There she'd said it, no need to lie. But she hadn't told him that it was his eyes she was lost in, not the forest. Isabella knew every bend in that forest.

Mama had said something about a lasting first impression. Isabella scowled at her wolf, Sally. Staring was different than making a bad impression.

A chuckle snapped Isabella out of his seductive gaze. "Do you always stare at strangers, or am I the only exception?"

IsabellaI blushed and looked everywhere but at him. Life hadn't returned to the forest, nor had her heartbeat returned to normal. He'd probably scared the animals to death.

A giant he was. To think of him as a man was difficult when he towered among the trees. An impressive sixty-five feet was his stare, which dwarfed their sixty-five inches.

He frowned. His head tilted to the side. His too-perfect, too-angelic face took on the kind of cute expression that only adorable toddlers can manage. Fine wrinkles appeared, which looked like foreign bodies on his forehead. Would it be wrong of Isabella to wipe them away?

Isabella clenched her fist. Tanned as she was, she didn't think it was possible to make a white knuckle. But there, beside her hips, her hands fell as if to prove it.

"You want to hit me." His eyes danced with amusement. Only men in erotic novels possessed that kind of voice. And for good reason. Otherwise girls would never eat, because there would be no room for food in a stomach full of butterflies.

She said nothing, but just continued to stare at him.

"You're mad at me." He said, fascinated. As if he'd never been confronted with this situation before.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was angry with herself. She didn't know how long she could resist. He'd to stop frowning; he'd to stop giving Isabella a reason to want to touch him.

"You're staring, Sally." Isabella scowledat her wolf.

"Sally, sweetie," he looked at Isabella with careful eyes, as if he didn't want to hurt her with his words. "...You're your wolf." It was hard not to notice how exotic her name sounded, how it seemed to glide across his lips, what an illusion it created. You'd think he was talking about his most prized possession.

"I don't think it's a good idea to fish around in my mind." If she'd doubted it before, he just confirmed it; only companions could communicate telepathically in human form. Isabella was both surprised and horrified.

A deathly silence followed. She was sure he could hear the frantic beating ofher heart.

"I've been looking for you for so long," she murmured, "I didn't think you existed. I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Obviously not everywhere you didn't find me," he said cockily. "I found you, and I wasn't even looking for you."

She rolledher eyes.

"I didn't come here for that." He waved a hand back and forth between them. "...For you," he sighed. "I came here to kill someone, and I'm not going to change for you."

"I didn't ask you to, I'm just asking for a chance," she couldn't hide the fact that she was scared. If he left Isabella unmolested, she'd die.

This beast, this monster, this devilishly handsome being in front of Isabella unknowingly had her life in his hands, her life depended on him, literally.

Isabella let her eyes glide over his soft features; every bit of him had been put together with precision. Did he know the power he'd over me? Did it matter to him? Would he change his mind if she told him what his acceptance meant to her?

He took two long steps and was only a few inches away. Isabella gasped; she'd never been this close to a man before. He took another step, narrowing the distance between them, and just looked at her.

Suddenly he looked up, and a wave of sadistic features assaulted his eyes. "I'd love to stay and play with your pack, but for your sake I won't. You're pretty close."

"Wait," she said to his retreating figure. "Will I ever see you again?"

He glanced at Isabella over his shoulder. "I suppose you'd like to know." And then he winked at her.

Ugh. "I didn't catch your name."

He grinned. "Maybe you'll think twice about seeing me again," his grin widened. "Peter."

"P-Peter Victor Carter?" Isabella swallowed as he nodded. He wasn't just any Wendigo: he was the most dangerous, the one who kills on sight. The terror she'd dreaded since childhood. How could the most desired and feared man in history be her companion? As if being a Wendigo wasn't enough.

When Isabella got back to school, the bell had rung. She was one of the few still in the corridor. She passed a couple pressing up against the lockers and blushed as she flew down the corridor.

The day flew by, and the next thing Isabella knew, she was home.

"Kids," Mom called, "lunch is ready."

Isabella dropped the pencil on her hand. She was working on an essay for English about Animal Farm. Apparently the teacher thought the holiday season was over. She should have given them at least a week to get used to school again.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She'd to get to the kitchen before her brother did. When she reached the top of the stairs, she bumped into the threshold.

"Oh." I heard Callie say from the kitchen. "Lee, go check the threshold."

Isabella tumbled down the stairs and landed face-first on the floor. She groaned. That hurt. Damn those romance novels, why wasn't I a character in one. Peter would have appeared out of nowhere and caught Isabella before she fell.

Isabella winced as she looked up as a set of heavy footsteps came to a halt. She sat up and gave her brother a murderous look. He stood leaning against the doorframe, his right arm resting horizontally on his chest, the other mindlessly holding a piece of carrot cake to his lips.

Isabella wiped a trickle of blood from her eyebrows with the back of her hand and licked it off. It tasted like elf and an old coin.

"That must've hurt."

She ignored him. It didn't hurt anymore. She felt for the cut, but it had already healed.

"Your stamina is impressive." He casually blew a loose strand out of his eye. He smiled. "So you don't need a mate after all," he leaned forward with interested eyes and eyed her. "You look different."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he shrugged. "...I noticed this morning, I thought it was your hair."

"It must be," Isabella said nervously.

"No," he continued to eye her. "Not your hair. It's still a messy bush."

Isabella quickly got to her feet. "Thanks, you really know how to make a girl feel good."

"Yeah, yeah."

She pushed past him. Of course, he followed her. Ugh.

She picked up her bowl of pasta and sat down. He heaved himself up onto the counter. His legs dangled at his side as he swung them.

Mom and Callie sat at the other end of the table, talking tentatively. Mom was the first to look up. "Is my house intact?"

Isabella nodded.

"Are you okay?"

'Good to know how important the house is,' Isabella wanted to say sarcastically.