RISK

8

A loud echo sounds through the house as Isabella closes her house door shut. She leans against it, taking a deep breath, allowing the scent of her home to bring her comfort. She's not one to swim around in self pity, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't a shit day at school. She isn't sure if she just wasn't playing her cards right, or if the universe had it out for her today.

She walks into the kitchen ready to devour any type of food she can get her hands on, when she see's a note on the table.

Left to run some errands, then getting dinner with some work friends. Will be home late. Yes, I realized I could have sent you this in a text message but I realized it after I already started writing. Enjoy your Friday. -Dad

Isabella laughs a little to herself after reading the note. She knows her father said he realized he could have sent her a text after, but she sees right through him. Her mother always wrote notes, thought it was more authentic than a text message. He likes to do little things she liked, keeps her in his heart.

Isabella's body shape is molded into the couch as the credits of yet another movie roll. The sun set about an hour ago, leaving the outside dark. She shakes her head at the ending of the movie as it was super predictable. However, she kind of likes that because she calls the ending halfway through the movie then smiles proud of herself when she does indeed get it right. With perfect timing, the timer on the oven goes off and the girl races to it, ready to indulge in the great invention that is pizza. Well frozen pizza, but it's still quite delicious. She stares the pizza down, after taking it out, going back and forth between the cheesy goodness and the box the pizza came in. The box clearly says to allow a certain amount of cooling time, but waiting is getting extremely difficult so she decides to take a bite.

"Ow!" She hisses as the hot sauce burns her tongue. The opens her mouth to let cold air in before she can continue chewing. She's trying to get past her hurting tongue when an unknown number flashes across her phone as it rings.

"Hello?" She picks it up, not caring that she has a mouth full of food, because she is expecting it to be a telemarketer she can soon hang up on.

"Isabella?" His voice is all too familiar and surprise takes over her being.

"Alexander?" She questions but she knows it's him.

"Hello," he pauses, "I hope you don't mind me calling."

Isabella can hear a weird tone in his voice. He sounds almost emotionless, like he's not himself. "I don't mind...what's wrong?"

Xander looks down at his blood covered body. That's what's wrong. It's not his blood, it's almost never his own blood. Sometimes he'd prefer it be his own rather than the blood of multiple werewolves he took the lives of. Rouges, lone werewolves without packs, usually with bad intentions, crossed into their territory and threatened their pack. They wanted their territory but his pack was not going to give it up that easily. The beginning of the encounter was nonviolent, just filled with tension. The rouges screwed themselves over when they went in for the kill. It wasn't a long fight between the rouges and the pack. Just bloody as hell. So here the Alpha is, a winter coat of blood on, still boiling with anger.

Alexander gets into a certain head space when he fights. He blocks out all rational thinking and just kills, as he sees black. He can't think. Thinking causes hesitation. Hesitation causes one to lose focus and let their guard down. It works for him, if he wants to be a good Alpha; if he wants to protect the pact by being a good fighter. The problem is that when the fight is over, he has yet to master coming down from his viscous high. This time it's particularly hard as he can feel the nerve endings in his fingers, as he balls them into fist. He can smell the blood of his opponents and it makes him want to continue killing, despite all the dead bodies he left in the woods. He's shaking with this anger that he needs to get under control.

He knew if he didn't calm down it wouldn't end well for him. So he found his sister's phone and found the number of the one person in the world who's voice may allow him to think rationally. During his very first encounter with his mate, he remembers how he just wanted her voice to wrap around him. It's soothing and warm, and that's what he needs right now.

"Nothing." He lies at the question.

"It doesn't sound like nothing. You sound...I don't know, different."

The reason he sounds different is because his wolf has taken over his being. When his wolf surfaces everything is deeper, darker. His voice, his thoughts, everything.

"I need you." His words come out deep and honest.

Isabella's heart skips a beat and she loses a steady breath. "What?" She whispers.

"Needed to hear your voice." Xander closes his eyes, finally calming down. He pushes his wolf back and slowly begins to regain composure. "You sound weird." He says flipping the card, his words coming out much lighter than they did a second ago.

Isabella is confused at the switch in manner but knows questioning it won't get her anywhere. "I burnt my tongue on my pizza right before you called. I'm talking weird cause it still hurts."

Xander wants that to be Isabella's biggest problem in the world. Burning her tongue on a slice of pizza. He looks down at his hands that are covered in flesh. She shouldn't know anything about this. She shouldn't be exposed to something so dangerous. Nothing this dark should consume someone so full of light.

"I should go," Xander says. It's about time he washes the blood of his body. "I'm sorry for disturbing you."

Isabella's face scrunches in confusion once again. His call started off with him sounding different, dark, saying he needed her. That he needed to hear her voice. Now he sounds like his normal self, just sad, but he's saying he needs to go.

"You're sure you're ok?" The kind girl ask one more time.

"I'm better. Thank you."

"Xander, I didn't do anything." She says honestly.

"Yes, you did. I said I needed to hear your voice, and you spoke. Goodnight, Princess. I'll see you Monday."

Isabella hears the line end as he hangs up. She debates calling back because he really seems off, but decides against it. The nickname he called her finally registers and she gets butterflies in her stomach.

Red water surrounds Xander's feet as the blood washes off his body in the shower. He thinks about how honest his wolf was when he told Isabella that he needs her. His wolf is a sexual being and both him and his wolf need their mate in more ways than one. He thinks about what would have happened if she was actually here. He would have put his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Her voice and scent would calm him down from the anger that took over his body. But then the smell of her would consume him even more. He'd want to take off her clothing and touch every inch of her. He'd wrap her legs around his waist as he makes her feel things she's never felt. He'd rid her of her innocence and make her call his name. Their movements would mess up her ethnic curls and give her the sexiest bed head he's ever seen. When they were done, he'd gently kiss every inch of her sweet skin and lay with her until she fell asleep.

Isabella stands in her kitchen, still thinking about Alexander. She leans against her counter and she's suddenly pulled back into the night in his kitchen. The night he kissed her. The night she finally knew what his hands on her body could do to her. She wraps her arms around her body but it doesn't feel like his. She wants his touch, just as much as he wants hers.