FALLEN | rowan whitethorn x oc

CHAPTER EIGHT - confessing and then Rowan is a jerk

"Stop it" The sound made Isabella flinch in her seat. She thought that the words were directed at her but they hadn't. Rowan was talking to Lorcan, ordering him to recompose himself and stop laughing.

I guess the interrogation has not yet finished, she thought. Though Fenrys fainting should have been a very good reason for stopping.

Lorcan did stop laughing after hearing his friend's words. They both shared a serious look between each other –in which, Isabella imagined, they agreed to start asking questions again and how- and turned back so that both of them were facing her. They took some steps forward, not enough so that she started to feel uncomfortable, and stopped. Neither of them sat. But they both had their arms crossed over their chests. Bad cops mode was on. Maybe she should have been afraid at the idea of being interrogated by only the two most powerful fae to exist, but she wasn't. Somehow, a weird and burned part of her brain refused to be scared because they did not terrify her. She didn't feel safe but she didn't want to run away, either. It was such an overwhelming realization that Isabella felt grateful for the chair where she was sitting.

"Isabella" Rowan called for her. Her head snapped up at the sound of her name coming out of his lips. It hadn't sounded warm or comforting but rather like a fact. And yet, Isabella almost purred, pleased by the sound. She almost slapped her own face for such thoughts and body reactions. She knew that that was her crush but things were serious and even if her brain refused to be rational and fear them, she should be terrified of them. So she counted to thirty to calm herself down and decided to be as cautious and wary as possible.

"That's my name, yes" she said in response, and she was glad when her voice sounded calm and absolutely disinterested.

Rowan arched an eyebrow at her, "I know" was all he said. Isabella waited for the questions to begin but was surprised when, after three minutes –counted by her-, only silence was heard inside the tent. She knew she ought to look confused by the situation because Rowan smirked at her. He. Smirked. At. Her. Holy God.

"What?" she snapped at them both, tired of their games. "No questions?"

Rowan grabbed one of the chairs in front of her and sat gracefully down, his gaze locked on hers. "We will ask you questions, but only after we know that you will answer us truthfully".

Isabella and Lorcan snorted at the same time. Clearly, both of them knew that she wouldn't. She wanted to, yes, but she still wasn't sure. And she still hadn't forgotten the way they had circled her when the interrogation had first begun. Rowan arched one of his eyebrows at her, again, and spoke, "You will".

"So sure of yourself" she mocked.

He shrugged, and the gesture was so casual and looked completely foreign on his big body, that Isabella forgot for a moment what she had decided: males + questions = no answers from her. "I am" said a confident Rowan. And, in another person, it might have sounded egocentric but, in him, it only sounded like a simple and well-known fact. A fact that Isabella could not deny because Rowan had no reason not to be sure of himself. Not with that body and those powers. She swallowed. His eyes fell to her throat and she knew he noticed the gulp falling down her neck. His eyes shone and, with those fangs, she thought he looked feral. Then he turned his gaze away and reclined back on his chair.

"We've got all the time in the world" he told her, and she knew they did, but did she have time? That question brought a series of thoughts that her therapist would have cataloged as 'very negative' and Isabella started to panic. She didn't know what she was doing there, she didn't know where there was, she didn't know what was real, she didn't know if she was hallucinating, if she was actually dead; or, if everything was real, how she had gotten there, she didn't know if she was safe, she didn't know if maybe these males that looked like those characters she adored so much were not completely different from the idea she had of them, because she didn't really know them. She didn't know anything. And she didn't know why all of this was happening to her.