Susan enters with a large set of plastic bags in either hand and she places them on the ground, giving me an encouraging smile.

"I thought you would need more than Isaac's clothes sweetheart so I rooted around in my own wardrobe to see if I could find some things that would suit you. I know for a fact, if Isaac's clothes are not clean, they are therefore absolutely filthy."

I laugh quietly at her comment and thank her, ignoring Isaac's embarrassed growl. Susan leaves after a quick hello to my mate who still hasn't released me, and at this realisation I blush.

"Let me go."

"Fine." He grumbles but frees me from his arms.

I start to rummage through the bags. There is every sort of clothing I could ever need; trousers, skirts, t-shirts, sweaters, you name it, she bought it. She even brought bras and pants that are pretty close to my size, although how I don't know. All but a few of the clothing items still have price tags on them and I begin to put them in different piles, and Isaac gives me permission to put them in his closet, saying once again that everything that is his is mine now.

There is one bag which I haven't searched through yet and I carefully open it to see a pile of lingerie packets. Lacy bras and other highly sexualized clothing. I shiver. Ugh.
I would never have enough confidence to wear most of these but they're a gift from Isaac's mum so I can't throw them out. I sit there on the carpet for several seconds, torn between what to do with them, and my facial expression must illustrate my inner turmoil as Isaac reaches for my hand.

"What's in that bag Iz?"

I don't answer, unable to determine what to say, so I just take a packet and chuck it to him. He realises what it is and bursts out laughing, and I toss another packet at him, aiming at his face. This time he fails to catch it and it hits his cheek, making him yelp in complaint.

"What was that for?"

"You know what that was for. Be quiet and shut up," I growl but he refuses, and ends up clutching his stomach in pain as his laughing cuts off his oxygen supply. I smack the back of his head and that finally draws him out of his humour whining.

"Violent woman," he moans.

"Get over it," I say, laughing.

I collect up all the bags and move them to the closet; I can sort them out later.

"Iz? What do you want to do? You're not on your heat so we can do pretty much anything." I shrug, my mind currently focused on sorting out Susan's gifts.

"Just hang out. We've known each other for over two weeks and we still haven't hung out like a normal couple. There's always something that means one of us, usually me," I pass him a grin, "is uncomfortable in some way."

"So, we'll hang out in here then. Or do you want to go on a tour of the pack?"

"I want to stay here."

"I guess we're staying in bed the entire day then. Just don't blame me if you fall head over heels for me though."

"Is that so?" I smirk at him.

"Yes, it is so." He takes my hand and drags me under the covers. He lies down beside me then rolls over and leans on one elbow, gazing down at me.

"Iz, we need to talk about you."

"What about me?"

"Your father."

"No." My heart hammers inside my chest, my breathing increasing. "I can't Isaac, I can't." He strokes my hand soothingly with his spare one.

"Iz, you need to tell someone about it. Not Jack, you. He hurt you, mentally and physically. You have to let me help you."

I shake my head, mute.

"Please Iz," he asks gently.

"Don't make me do this. You said you weren't going to make me. Please don't make me." I can feel myself beginning to panic; I can't do this. I draw away from Isaac and curl up into a ball, my head between my knees, rocking back and forth, my breathing shallow and unsteady.

"Iz, it's okay. You're safe. Calm down. It's alright." Isaac continues to calm me down, letting me take my time, until I am finally pacified.

Isobel, we can tell him. He's not going to reject us, nor hate us. Trust him. It's alright to trust him.

Taking a deep breath and gathering the dregs of my courage, I prepare to talk about my father, suppressing the constant - although irrational - fear that threatens to consume me.

Please help me Jack. Don't make me do this alone.

I would never leave you.

"I'll tell you about him, what you want to know."

"Sure Iz?"

"Yes, but please don't hate me afterwards."

"I could never." He sits up and takes my cold hand in his warm one. "Tell me sweetheart." I take a deep breath and focus on his face, trying to distract myself from what I'm about to say.

"My father was my mother's mate. From what I remember, my mother was the kindest person, always generous and understanding and I thought the same of my father. My mother died when I was three. She was killed by a rogue while out on patrol. She was killed because of mercy. She took pity on the rogue because the rogue was pregnant. And the rogue killed her before running."

I lean against his chest and he holds me in his arms, stroking my hair, soothing my anxious mind as I prepare to tell him what I have told naught but one.

It's alright Isobel. You can do this.

"The rogue vanished, she was never seen near the Moonblood pack ever again. My father managed to retain most of his sanity for the majority of my childhood after my mother's death. He left me alone until I was about eleven when he took a turn for the worse; that's when the beatings started, that's when the madness from my mother's loss really started to set in.

He would regularly beat me with whatever he could get his hands on or his belt. He even whipped me once or twice, the some of the worst of the injuries he ever inflicted on me. Once he nearly, he nearly k-k-ki-" my sentence is cut off by my sobs and Isaac kisses my forehead. So much for remaining strong.

"It's okay, you don't have to keep going. That's all I needed to know. Thank you for telling me sweetheart." I give a choked laugh against his chest.

"Why do you keep calling me nicknames?"

"You are too beautiful for all of it to be encompassed in one word. There are not enough words in the English language to express how wonderful you are." I don't miss his attempt to lighten the mood after my awful revelation and I take full advantage of this, responding in kind.

"You're too sweet."

"Only for you."

I snuggle up to him.

"Thank you for everything Isaac."

Thank you Jack.

"I'm your mate. I have a responsibility to care for you. And who wouldn't, looking at this gorgeous face?" He casually winks at me and I give him a small growl to keep him in line.

"Shut up."

"Why, when it's the truth?"

"I believe I said shut up."

"I thought women liked compliments!"

"Not if you're lying."

"I'm pretty certain I'm not lying." He protests.

"You're my mate, you're supposed to think the best of me."

"And what do you think of me, my lady?" I look at him, studying his features, struggling to restrain the blush that promises to stain my cheeks. "Damn it's hot in here." He strips off his shirt, leaving him bare chested and I cover my eyes, trying (and failing) to not blush from his casual, and a tad unnecessary, showing of skin. "What Iz? Am I too hot for you?" He gives me another flirtatious wink.

"N-no."

"Do I detect a stutter?" He asks straight-faced but then he breaks into a grin, failing to maintain a serious demeanour. I shift away from him and he seizes me around the waist, pulling me back to him. "I'm still waiting for an answer darling."

"No." I take one look at him and burst out laughing and he chuckles with me. He turns me so I'm facing him, so there's no avoiding his amused gaze.

"Why are you lying?"

"I'm not," I deny.

"Tell that to the stare you're giving my muscles and the blush on your cheeks."

"I'm not."

"Liar."

He begins to tickle me mercilessly and I collapse into fits of giggles, helpless to resist him. I fall backwards and he falls on top of me, still tickling me like a maniac. Continuing to tickle me, I eventually struggle to breath, gasping for oxygen and at this moment he stops, knowing I've understood his point. I'm a liar, although for perhaps different reasons than he assumes. I have not confessed to wanting to escape, nor admitted it was my idea for Jack to do so.

I am distracted by the realisation of how intimate our position is yet somehow I don't care. His closeness is neither unnerving nor do I feel afraid of how vulnerable I am right now. On the contrary, I am comforted, protected, safe.

He pushes himself off my body, leaning on his elbows, resting his chin on his hand, gazing into my eyes, admiring them, yet why I do not comprehend.

Hesitantly, I touch his face with a finger, tracing his sharp jawline, my breathing still ragged from both the tickling and his proximity, and when he does not push me away, I let them roam upwards where they begin to comb themselves through his dark hair, lightly tugging at the short strands.

Through all of this, Isaac continues to watch me with a certain element of fascination, studying my face as I study his, neither of us saying a word, peace prevailing over all other emotions.

Then slowly, slowly his head lowers, his lips inches from mine, ready to retreat should I be uncomfortable at what he is proposing, but a sudden warmth swells from my chest, filling my heart, boosting my confidence. Almost of their own accord, my hands make their way to his face, drawing him closer, pulling him to me. The heat trapped between us begins to build and I am struggling to breathe normally, my heartbeat reduced to a frantic thumping that drowns out all noise excluding the rushing of blood in my ears.

Milliseconds before our lips touch, his eyes glaze over; he's being mind-linked. Immediately, he retracts and scrambles off the bed, cursing under his breath. I look at him in askance.

"Rogue attack."

"We'll help," Jack replies, using me as her mouthpiece.

"No, I don't want you to be hurt."

"I'm coming. This is non-negotiable."

"Fine. But stick by me."

Jack refuses to give me control and we follow Isaac out the house, shifting as we go. We race across the territory, neck and neck, until we spot a large group of about thirty rogues ahead of us, at which point he releases a fearsome growl that makes several of the wiser rogues flee. Somewhere in the middle of the battle, several pack-wolves are attempting to fend them off, among them, Beta Xander in his human form, largely unharmed, excluding five scarlet scratches across his left cheek.

The fighters are surrounded by bloody bodies and despite being vastly outnumbered, the pack-wolves appear to be faring best, most only having minor wounds, sharply contrasting to the torn throats of the rogues.

Jack leaps towards them, snarling in a mix of blood lust and annoyance at being disturbed. A rogue turns to us snapping, and she seizes its neck in her strong jaws, biting it all the way through to the spine, leaving the head nearly decapitated and dangling. Swiftly, she moves to the next one, finishing that one off just as quickly, blood dripping from our jaws as we survey our surroundings for another opponent. Choosing one, Jack leaps back into the action, dealing killing blows right and left as the rogues come at us, saliva dripping from their jaws, their eyes full of insanity.

They must have lost their mates.

Beside us Isaac is tearing through them, Xander shielding our backs from any wolf that ventures to attack us, the mangled bodies of rogues littering the grass like bloody flowers. The remaining living pack wolves are beginning to tire, not as used to constant, intense duels as we are, yet our trio remains unharmed, continuing to dole out death after death to every one that faces us. We slaughter them, the taste of blood a delight to Jack.

I've missed this.

How could you miss this?! We're killing people for no reason. We could spare them.

No, they'll only turn on us later. And they showed no such hesitation attacking us. They don't have the mental capacity for peace anymore.

Jack seizes the last rogue by the neck, ripping out its throat, causing a waterfall of blood to cascade from the gaping hole in the wolf's neck. We look around us to see everyone staring at us in shock and she gives a small growl.

What are they looking at? Never seen a dead wolf before?

Xander smiles slightly at our reaction, Isaac stroking our fur, his touch gentle, and we give a quiet whine in response. Why are the pack-wolves rejecting us? We were just trying to protect them. Jack starts to shift back into our human form, handing control back to me, but he gestures for me to stay in wolf form, clearly not wanting us to be seen naked by anyone, and I relinquish command of my body, content to leave it in her capable hands.

Sighing, we follow him back to the pack house, ignoring the curious gazes of other pack members and the one or two suppressed growls directed our way from the remaining two rogues, both of which are severely injured. They pose no threat to us. 

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