Isabella

Ralph clicked his tongue as he stood at the entrance of the dark corridor where Damon's room was located. 

"What the hell does he want again?" he grumbled under his breath and quietly walked to the door, ensuring his feet did not make annoying sounds—as the alpha told them. 

Ralph did not bother knocking. His scent was probably noticed from the top of the stairs anyway. 

"You seem to be slacking..." 

Ralph took a whiff of the room's warmth before frowning, "What?" 

A sigh followed the ruffle of sheets. "You used to be so quick on your feet, so fast whenever I called for you."

Ralph could not deny that. For so long, he had been Damon's friend and Beta, and had also been the one to execute most of Damon's physical orders. The weight of such responsibility didn't give room for leniency—or sluggishness.

"I know I've been... weak for some time now. I'm sorry, Damon." Ralph exhaled and looked at the floor. "I will ensure that I—" 

"For how long have we known each other?" In the darkness of the room, Damon slid off the bed and plodded to the window, an evidence of his exhaustion from constant immobility. 

Ralph did a quick mental calculation. "About... three centuries."

Damon hummed after a quick mental calculation. He did not make any effort to move the curtains even though he itched to view the pack from the elevation of his room.

"Time flies fast." 

"It truly does," Ralph agreed. He kept his eyes glued to the Alpha's broad back. "You are about six centuries old now."

Damon clicked his tongue. He didn't feel a century. Hell, he didn't feel Twenty-five years measured according to human aging process. The last time he remembered looking into a mirror, he had no wrinkles or sagging flesh... Wolves were built that way. Not only did his specie live long, they stayed fresh and glowing throughout their lifetime. 

"It seems like it was only yesterday my parents went to rest in the bosom of the goddess and left me to take over the pack," Damon mused. He turned to face Ralph, his beautiful glowing eyes blinking rapidly. "Ralph, tell me something. I need a professional response; forget about our friendship for now... Do you think I am doing a better job running the pack than my parents did?" 

If the professional-response clause wasn't included, Ralph would have shrugged and complimented the Alpha's efforts through the past centuries. 

Ralph cleared his throat. "Well, considering your condition, you are doing an excellent job. We are one of the most feared packs to ever exist and... well, and the pack is doing well. The people are adequately fed. We even supply food to almost all the human clans in this district. Your parents—Goddess bless their souls—took great care of the pack, and you're doing an even greater job."

"Hmm... Considering my condition..." 

It was a direct repetition of Ralph's sentence, and Ralph was left puzzled as to why Damon only picked that part out of the ample strings of beautifully-crafted analysis of the pack's welfare. 

"Sometimes I crave to walk beneath the rays of the sun like normal people." Damon sighed and closed his eyes. "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't born."

"Dont say that." Ralph took careful steps forward. "Please, stop saying that. The last thing anyone wants right now is one of your body-wracking emissions."

"Nah, that won't happen. I'm fine." Damon moved away from the window and laid a hand on Ralph's shoulder. "Thanks, Ralph. You've been a great help so far."

"That's my job. I'm your friend and Beta, remember?" 

"Shut up." Damon sighed again when Ralph began to chuckle. He plopped on his bed. "Tell Margaux to send me some of those hot—Errm, what is it called?" 

"Ginger cakes?" 

"Yes! Ginger cakes," Damon nodded. "She should send that girl... Isabella."

ISABELLA... 

The name brought a strange silence to the room. Both men stopped for a moment to think. 

Ralph was the one who broke the silence. "Who is she anyway?" 

Damon's eyes blinked repeatedly. "My new maid," he said and shrugged. "Don't ask me if I know anything about her, 'cause I really don't." 

"What about the file she submitted?" 

"Everything in that file seems correct. I feel that she isn't lying." The sound of galloping horses made Damon pause. The sound was probably coming from across the field but it sounded so close—thanks to wolves' great hearing. Damon pondered on the abilities of his specie for some seconds before speaking, "She feels so fragile." 

She did feel fragile, Ralph couldn't deny that. One look at Isabella and all he could think about was her fragile form sprawled on his sheets and surrounded by his scent, and cuffs linking Isabella's wrists to the bed frame. 

"Gooddess, Ralph, don't tell me that burst of pheromone is an offspring of your vile thoughts." 

Ralph cleared his throat and licked his lips nervously. When had he spaced out?! Goddess, he was even having a boner! 

"I'm so sorry about that," Ralph apologized and clamped his palms to his crotch. It was supposed to be amusing, but Damon wasn't one to laugh at a joke—or laugh at all. Ralph could count the nunber of times he'd seen Damon forcefully smile. "I will deliver your message to Margaux." 

"Thank you."

It was an indication that the conversation was over. Ralph started for the door. When he got to the door, he turned back with raised brows. 

"You took your medications yet?" 

"You know how much I hate that yellow stuff," Damon grimaced just thinking about it. "It tastes like horseshit." 

"And very effective," Ralph added. "Albus will have my head for lunch if I don't force that concoction down your throat." He started for the bed. It didn't come as a surprise to see a covered bowl by the bedside filled with a musky-smelling yellow liquid. "You're going to take it now." 

"Goddess, can you leave me alone?" 

"I will. Soon as you take this." Ralph handed him the bowl. "It will be evening soon. Please hurry up." 

Evening.

Then night.

Those were the periods of each day Damon dreaded... He reached for the bowl, closed his eyes, and poured the contents into his throat. 

Ralph nodded with a satisfied smile when he saw Damon's eyes glowing. 

"My eyes are glowing, right?" Damon asked and grimaced. The taste that lingered on his tongue wasn't helping his contempt for the daily dose of concoction.

"As usual."

"Albus needs to add some sort of sweetener to this stuff." 

"Let the wizard be. He is trying his best." 

Damon spread out on the bed and closed his eyes. "Get out. The effects are kicking in." 

"Sweet dreams, Damon. Have a lovely afternoon rest." Ralph took a step back and was about to pivot for the door when Damon's voice echoed in a slur. 

"Tell Margaux to bring the new girl into the room next to me. And make sure the place is comfortable." 

"I will do just that," Ralph whispered. It was either Damon said that to make it easier to call on Isabella, or the effects of the concoction was making him say things—things he was going to deny saying the very second he got up.

The door quietly clicked behind Ralph...

 *. *. *. *.*

Isabella's jaw almost met the floor. 

"... And it's too late to back out now. The Alpha is okay with you and has agreed to take you as his maid..." Margaux was saying. To those in the pack who dreaded Damon as much as Margaux did, her dramatic expressions of relief wasn't inordinate. Isabella happened to be an answer to her life-long prayers to the goddess to get someone else as a help for the Alpha, someone who Damon would pick himself.

That way, it would bring less angry remarks—directed at Margaux—whenever Isabella errs.

"If you need anything, come to me..." 

Isabella had no one else to go to anyway. 

"... I will lay out the rules as soon as we get to the place you'd be staying..." 

Isabella wasn't new to rules. She would have no issue with that. 

"... And be careful with the men here. Most of them are wolves..." 

Isabella knew about wolves. She had even worked for one at her former place of work. 

By the time they got close to some buildings arranged in segments, Margaux had arranged long lines of advices that Isabella's head was starting to ache. 

The intensity of the sun also added to the discomfort.

"First rule..." Margaux didn't stop walking. "These place you see is the workers' quarters, and the workers stay in these buildings..." 

Isabella could see beautiful bungalows arranged in rows with flowers—no, short trees—demarking each building.

"...Be respectful to your neighbours. Don't cause trouble," Margaux continued. "There are penalties for fights. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Madam Margaux." 

"Good, now—" 

"MADAM MARGAUX!" 

Isabella and the elderly woman turned back at the same time. A sentry fully dressed in his uniform was clutching his sword to his side as he ran to meet them. 

"Master Ralph asked me to deliver a message." His eyes lingered on Isabella for a very unholy stretch of seconds before he forcefully tore his gaze to the waiting woman. 

"What did he say?" 

The sentry leaned forward and whispered something into Margaux's ears. When he pulled back, there was a look of confusion and surprise finely mixed on the older woman's face. 

"He said that?" she asked to be sure. 

"He said the alpha said that." 

"Oh... Thanks." 

Isabella's anxiety rose when the sentry left and Margaux did not say anything. "Is... Is something wrong?" 

"Nah, everything is fine. It's just that Alpha Damon has never allowed any of his maids to stay so close to his chamber."