Chapter 2 2

Isabella.

I want to believe my father's joking, but the seriousness in his expression tells me otherwise. Glancing at the man once more, he's undeniably attractive, his physique tempting, but my shock overrides any admiration. I turn back to my father, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. They must hear the panic and denial, echoing in every beat.

"You heard me right," he adds, and I shake my head as I got to my feet.

"Maybe she needs some time," Blaze mumbles, and I scoff loudly.

"The hell he's not going to be," I say angrily.

"Isabella, don't you dare disrespect me in front of our guests,” my father scolds. I turn to Rosie, but she just shrugs, wanting no part in the heated conversation but then I remember, she must be with my father in this foolish idea. I turn my head to the guy called Blaze and he maintains a relaxed face, contrasting my father’s anger.

"If it wasn't for your mother’s death, the wedding date would've been fixed. But that will not stop it because I know your mother would prefer we went ahead with it rather than waste time mourning..."

"Waste time? My mother's death is a waste of time?" I feel hurt, my voice betraying my pain. My father's words hit me like a bitter gust of wind, and I couldn't hold back the retort bubbling within me.

"Look, Isabella, I am as touched and heartbroken as you are for losing your mother..."

"Well, you don't look heartbroken to me," I interjected, my eyes scanning my father skeptically. His furrowed brows only encouraged my anger to voice the chaos within. "It seemed like you are more pressed to marry me off to a complete stranger rather than playing your role as a true father, the Alpha and husband..."

"That’s enough, Isabella!" My father's yell reverberated within the pack walls, causing my subside to waver. Swallowing hard, I felt the lump in my throat grow larger as I fought back tears, my head and temples throbbing from the effort.

I turned my gaze to Rosie, seeking comfort, and she sighed in response. "Look, Bella, you have to get married at some point. You're turning 18 tomorrow and I don't see any sign of you getting your wolf or a mate tomorrow night.”

"So, you’re still going to support him?" I questioned her, my voice strained. Tears threatened to spill, but I clung to my choice. I refused to appear weak in front of a man I held so much resentment for in such short period of time. Rosie's nonchalant shoulder-shrug confirmed my suspicions. I turned to my father, anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Your mother knew also," he admitted, meeting my gaze. "You can be an awful father, but you don't have to be a terrible husband by accusing your wife..."

"Shut up!" His outburst cut through the room, leaving me breathless and torn between standing my ground and succumbing to the emotional agitation.

Blaze remained silent, a quiet observer of the unfolding drama. His movements caught my attention as he approached, prompting an involuntary yell from me.

"Don't!" I exclaimed, my eyes squeezing shut as I attempted to regain composure. Inhaling deeply, I expected a rush of air, but instead, I was met with the infuriating scent of his cologne. Annoyingly tempting.

Opening my bloodshot eyes, I focused on Blaze. He stood there, an epitome of calm, seemingly unfazed. It was as if he already had my hand in marriage, and I was powerless to prevent it.

"Maybe we all need to sit and talk things through. I don't want to have this conversation in the form of an argument or fight. I didn't have the intention to cause a problem for you," Blaze suggested, glancing between me and my father.

"You want a conversation? Fine, fuck you, Blaze. I will not marry you," I retorted sharply, my words cutting through the tension. With that, I stormed out of the living room, my steps echoing as I made my way upstairs to my room. The door slammed shut behind me, leaving the unresolved conflict lingering in the air.

Fuming with confusion, I couldn't decide who to direct my anger towards. My father, who suddenly fancied himself the matchmaker of my life, or Blaze, the audacious stranger who thinks I am for sale. And I could feel his arrogant thoughts swirling around the idea of making me his mate.

It infuriated me how, at first sight, I was drawn to him. I thought he was not just handsome, but also incredibly attractive and genuinely down-to-earth.

Reality struck hard; he wasn't here solely to offer condolences. Instead, he saw me as if I were some disposable pawn offered to him without a second thought. Yet, I refused to let my father dictate my choice of mate. The decision belonged to the moon Goddess, not my father.

The door swings open suddenly, and there's Blaze. I freeze in place, my heart skipping a beat. My eyes narrow instinctively, and my head tilts to the side. The audacity he possesses to show up in my room the same night my father declares him to be my mate. Confidence radiates from him as he confidently surveys my room, passing judgment.

"Lavender," he mouths, his deep voice echoing in my ears and sending a shiver down to my stomach. I despise how his voice always manages to do that, stubbornly reaching my stomach and creating a swirling sensation.

"I love lavender," he adds, his gaze meeting mine. I deliberately look away, unable to handle the intensity of his piercing stare. The scent of lavender fills my room, and I know he's referring to that.

"You also smell like lavender," he continues, aggravating me further as he ventures deeper into my room, unwelcome.

"Bella..." I interrupt him abruptly. "That's Isabella for you," I retort through gritted teeth. He has no right to use my short name; only those close to me earn that privilege. He's not one of them, and he never will be.

He nods, clearing his throat, and casually shoves his hands into his pockets, broadening his shoulders. I find my gaze uncontrollably drawn to his well-built, imposing physique. It's hard to deny. This man possesses a beautiful body and a handsome face.

Maybe that's why he assumes I'd readily accept his proposal. Does he believe his good looks and bold, attractive voice are enough to win me over? He must be delusional. Even as I acknowledge his physical appeal, I question why I'm even contemplating accepting the advances of such an arrogant man. Despite his outward demeanor, I sense his arrogance lurking beneath the surface, masked by an air of confidence.

I fold my arms over my chest, prepared to hear the inevitable lies he's about to feed me. I know the words concocted in his head are bound to be nothing but deceit. "Listen, Isabella," he says, and my heartbeats collide with a crash. Why did my name roll off his tongue as if he's intimately familiar with it?

He remains silent, directing his gaze to the side of my room where my bed is positioned. It gives me the opportunity to scrutinize his features more. Impeccably groomed sideburns trace the contour of his chiseled jawline with precision. They present a perfect blend of masculinity and refinement, accentuating his striking features and adding a touch of old-world charm to his overall appearance.

I observe as he releases a sigh, returning his gaze to me. A warm recognition courses down my spine upon meeting his intense stare. His eyes, a shade of gray resembling angry clouds and moody weather, scrutinize my body as though I stand naked before him. A dark, unwanted sensation slithers through my veins, an unsettling feeling I'd rather not experience. I resist, unwilling to let myself feel anything for Blaze, but it's beyond my control.

"I need you to keep this in mind; you will be my wife and the Luna of my pack," he declares, more of a threat than informative. Discomfort courses through me like kindled flames. Blaze's revelation leaves me uncertain about how to respond, but I summon the audacity to challenge him.

"I dare you, Blaze," I retort, arms crossed and brows furrowed. Anger simmers within me, almost to the point of wanting to strangle him, though I know I can't. His neck appears thick and sturdy, making my hands feel inadequate.

My breaths become shallow as he moves to pass me but stops by my side. Our arms touch, and the contact burns like the licks of flames. "Careful what you wish for," he warns, his voice brushing against the side of my neck. I'm torn between the suffocation of his words and the fact that he's incredibly close, his cologne making me feel woozy.

His hand glides over my cheek, causing a lump to form in my throat. Though I stand still, he compels me to look at him, intensifying the swirling emotions within.

"Will you marry me?" he asks, and it's the worst proposal ever. No kneeling, no diamond ring... nothing.

"I will never marry you," I assert firmly. His eyes darken, and he releases the side of my face, leaving a tingling sensation. I swallow hard, not just from the warmth on my cheek but from the way he now scrutinizes me, as if seeking something new on my face.

He towers over me, and I find myself straining my neck to maintain eye contact. "You don't really have much choice, Isabella," he asserts confidently. I roll my eyes and turn away, his use of my name unsettling my stomach.

"You don't," he adds with a chuckle. "You're too arrogant, you know that, right?" I retort, my desire to kick him out of my room and curse him conflicting with the vulnerability I feel around him.

"That's a first," he replies with amusement. "Get used to it, and also add this: you're a jerk and an asshole." I head for the door, but he grabs my arm. I gasp, taking a step back as he maintains his grip. He sighs heavily, running his fingers through his black, silky hair with his free hand. I stand there, staring at him in awe.

"Unhand me," I demand through gritted teeth, but it seems to amuse him rather than intimidate. It sucks being tiny. I'm actually average, he's just tall and big.

"I'm not done talking to you," he insists as I try to free my hand, but his grip remains unyielding. He wouldn't budge an inch.

A smirk plays on the corner of his lips, making it clear that my resistance is amusing him. Annoyance heats up my cheeks.

"Listen, Isabella. I have three reasons why you have you have to be mine and slowly, I'll reveal it to you. So, don't be stubborn about this situation because you don't have any other choice. Be rest assured," he speaks calmly, a stark contrast to the chaos within me. His composure irritates me, as all I want is to mourn my mother's death in peace, not add more burden to my sorrow. This man appears heartless.

"Marrying me is better than staying here with Alpha Roland. He's not what you think," he asserts, and I find myself arguing, even though I know my father was nothing like a father to me. “My father is far better than you, asshole!”

"Oh yeah? Why don't you go ask him why he’s giving me your hand in marriage? Why don't we go downstairs and confirm the reason why he’s a hundred percent on board with my marriage proposal to you?" he clamored, his face growing angrier and hotter at the same time.

How can a person become hotter when they're angry? I push aside that thought, focusing on what he just revealed. Before I can grasp it, he pulls me by my arm and leads us out of the room.

What did he mean by what he just said to me? My father was hiding something from me? Am I even safe? Who should I trust, this man I've known for less than two hours or a man I've known my whole life?