Isabel and the Werewolf Beast (Vampire Tales #1)

15. Isabel

Chapter fifteen

Isabel

I laughed at his groan. He was beginning to understand the killer tendencies of the place. The curse. The way the curse warped everything here. I couldn’t tell him that the things trying to kill us used to be my pets. The octopus in the pond was called Stealer, because I’d stolen him from an exhibit. His anguish at being held captive had resonated through the glass. I couldn’t leave him there. I’d tried releasing him back into the ocean, but he wouldn’t leave me. Placing him in the pond of my castle had seemed like the best solution, but the curse had warped him, turned him into an angry animal with no recollection I was the one who saved him .

The labyrinth had been my creation. I’d planted each Yew with painstaking precision. Watched the slow-growing plants form the hedges over the years. I’d tended to them like young children, and they too had now tried to kill me. It was the first time they’d done that. I wouldn’t go near the labyrinth again.

As for my bedroom, that held my pet raven. He was not the same either.

“I have a pet bird, but the curse has turned him into a killer.”

“A bird. Is that all?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m a werewolf. A bird is no match for me.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

We walked across the lush lawn. I was glad Dante’s feet had returned their feeling. When it had happened to me, I was lucky and Stealer had only latched onto one wrist. I’d easily fended him off and ran away.

“How did you cure the Yew poisoning?” I asked.

“Belladonna.”

“Ah.”

“Why do you have a poisonous plant growing in your herb garden?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“A question as an answer, and here I thought we were making progress.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his damp pants.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any dry clothes for you inside.” I regretted that fact. That he was offering to fetch me clean and dry clothes, yet this was my castle and I couldn’t offer him the same courtesy.

“That’s okay. After I get you a dress to wear, I’ll hang these up to dry. I’ll grab a sheet or blanket to wrap around me.”

“A modest werewolf.” I shook my head. “Most don’t care about nudity.”

“I do.” He firmed his lips into a hard line. “Just because I turned into this animal doesn’t mean I have to become something else. Someone, not myself.”

“Dante, you need to accept this additional part of you. The divide isn’t good for you.”

“I don’t know how. How did you accept being turned into a vampire?”

Was I going to tell him more about me? He waited patiently for me to answer as our steps carried us closer to the castle. To another deadly creature warped by the curse that would try to kill him and only because he wanted to do something nice for me.

“The one who turned me, my sire, he was good to me and helped me with the transition. He helped me overcome a newly turned vampire’s bloodlust. Helped me control the strong urges coursing through my vampire body. It was hard to begin with. All I could think about was the hunger for blood. It made me do things… kill people when I wasn’t in control. But learning at the academy helped even more. Being around other vampires struggling like me, knowing they were going through the same thing as me made it easier to accept who I was. Perhaps that’s your problem. You had no one to teach you.”

“I’ve had no one to teach me all my life.”

A stab of heartache hit me with such a force that I realized I was starting to like this werewolf. I couldn’t stop the next words out of my mouth.

“I’ll teach you.”

“You?” He glanced sideways at me, the shock, the hunger, staring back at me made me certain I was doing the right thing.

“I can’t teach you about being a werewolf, but I can teach you about the life you’re now living. How to harness your blood lust and anger, tamp down your overstimulated emotions so you don’t let the animalistic side of you dominate. That is why vampires are usually so refined. Why we like art, music, dance, and the finer things the world offers.”

“While werewolves run through the forests at night hunting.”

“Oh, we hunt too.”

“Right, humans.” He scowled.

“Are you offended I drink the blood of humans?”

He rubbed a finger over his frown lines. “I’m not sure. When you drank from me… it was…”

“Yes?”

“Very erotic,”

I smirked.

“Stop grinning,” he said with a huff that was half joking half exasperation at my glee he admitted to my bite being erotic.

“It’s funny though to hear a werewolf admit a vampire bite is pleasurable. Usually, you hate us so much that we have no choice but to kill you. This,” I said, waving a hand between us, “is refreshing and making me question our hatred of your species.”

He grinned so triumphantly that his eyes shone with happiness. “You don’t hate me.”

“Stop grinning,” I threw back at him while fighting a returning smile. “I still hate you a little.”

“You do not.” He bounced in front of me like an excited puppy, limbs and fur, eyes aglow.

“All right, calm down.” I waved him away from me. “Time for you to fetch me clothes.”