*Tristan*
Finally, she is standing in front of me, her small gloved hands folded tightly in front of her. With her this near to me, I can see clearly now that her eyes are the most beautiful blue. No, more than blue. Violet. I have never seen anything like them. I imagine them smoldering with heated passion, darkening, gazing at me in wonder as I deliver her pleasure such as she has never experienced. An easy task if she has indeed never known a man’s touch.
But just as I have no use for mistresses, I also have no desire for virgins. I have not been innocent in a good long while. I have no interest in innocence. It is a weakness, a condition to be exploited, a quick path to ruin. It holds no appeal.
She holds no appeal.
I rethink the words in an attempt to convince myself of their truth. But as her eyes burn into mine, I am left with the realization that she is not only innocent, but very, very dangerous. A silly thought. I could destroy her with a look, a word or a sarcastic laugh. And in destroying her, the tiny bit of soul that remains to me would wither and die.
It is an unsettling realization, one I do not much like at all.
I watch her delicate throat work as she swallows, her breasts rising with the intake of a long breath as though she is building up her courage.
“I don’t believe we have yet spoken”. She finally says.
“No”. I answer.
She gives me a small smile. “May I inquire regarding your name ? The other gentlemen were kind enough to introduce themselves”.
“But then I am not kind”. I point out.
Two tiny pleats appeared between her brows. “Why would you say something like that ?”
“Because I am honest, at least”. I tell her.
“But surely you have a name. Is it a secret ? Do you steal children from their beds ? Rumpelstiltskin perhaps ? I would be hard-pressed to see you as Prince Charming”. She muses.
Fairy tales. She has been brought up on fairy tales, and she seems to have no awareness that she is wading through a nest of ogres.
“Come on. It can’t be that horrible of a name. I would like to call you something”. She says softly.
I consider suggesting Beelzebub, something to unsettle her, send her scurrying away, but for reasons I can’t fathom, I simply say. “Rafe”.
“Rafe”. She repeats in her smoky voice, and a fierce longing fissure through me with an almost painful prickling. “Is that your title ?”
I shake my head slightly. “No”.
“Are you titled ?” She asks.
Perhaps she isn’t as innocent as I had thought. She wants to ensure that she is well cared for, and is going to be particular about whose bed she warms. I suppose I can’t hold that against her. She is on the hunt for a man to please, one who will serve as her protector. She has a right to be picky.
“No”. I finally answer.
“I see you’re a man of few words”. She is chewing on her lower lip, which serves to plump it up and darken its red hue. I wonder how often she has been kissed. Has she ever let a man press his mouth to hers ? Has a man ever touched her skin, trailed his fingers along her high cheekbones, folded his rough hand around her neck, and brought her in close ? “What are your interests ?”
I try to hold back a dark smile. “None that would amuse you”.
“You might be surprised”. She says, still smiling.
“I doubt it. I’m a rather good judge of character”. I tell her.
“A quick judge it would seem. I’m left with the impression that you don’t think very highly of me”. She says softly.
I slide my gaze over her, admiring the curves, the dips, and swells. I can’t deny that she is a beauty, but she would require a certain … gentleness and care, neither of which is in my repertoire of behavior. “I have not yet decided on the matter”.
“Unfortunately, I have, I am afraid. I don’t believe we would be well suited. I hope you won’t take offense”. She says pushing her chin slightly out.
“I would have to actually care about what you thought to be offended. I don’t”. I simply say.
She opens her mouth …
“Everly, you’re done here”. Her brother says as he grabs her arm and begins roughly ushering her toward the door.
Almost tripping over her small feet encased in satin slippers, she appears to be attempting to shake off the alpha. She is gazing over her bare shoulder at me as though she is determined to have the final word, but she is no match for her brother's strength as they both disappear through the open doorway.
It is some minutes before Littlefoot returns. I am surprised his sister doesn’t barge in behind him. No doubt he has convinced her not to, convinced her to lay low so as not to discourage any of the Alpha’s from having an interest in her.
“All right, gentlemen”. Littlefoot says, rubbing his hands together. “Does anyone wish to bid on her ?”
So that is how he is going to handle the matter, I muse. I don’t know why the manner in which Littlefoot is proceeding causes a chill in my bones. The girl means nothing to me. It might prove interesting to see what sort of value the other alpha places on her. Especially if I can determine a way to use that knowledge to my advantage.
“I say, Littlefoot”. Alpha Ekro sneers, “I’ll give you five hundred quid for her, but I’ve a mind to examine her first and ensure she is a virgin as you claim”.
A round of raucous laughter accompanies the vulgar suggestion. I suspect those who laugh the loudest are striving to cover the fact that they are not quite comfortable with the direction in which the evening is going.
“By all means, each of you may examine her”. Littlefoot says callously as though he is offering little more than a mare for purchase. “Then I shall entertain further bids”.
“Excellent. I’ll go first, shall I?” Ekro and Littlefoot heads for the door.
I envision Ekro’s pudgy sausage-like fingers traveling over her silky thighs, ripping at her undergarments, shoving into …
“I’m taking her”. I can hardly recognize the words that burst from my mouth with such authority that Ekro and Littlefoot stumble in their tracks, while the other alphas gape at me.
*Tristan* Obviously, I have been drinking a bit more than I realized, but it doesn't matter now. The challenge has been spoken, and I never go back on my words. Standing, I tug hard on my black brocade waistcoat that suddenly feels far too tight. “If any of you touch her, I shall happily separate you from the particular part that touched her. Littlefoot has assured us that she is pure. I don’t want her soiled by your sweaty hands or anything else. Have I made myself clear ?” “But you were only here to watch, to make sure ….” Littlefoot cut off his sentence and steps nearer, lowering his voice. “… To make sure I have the funds to cover my debt”. “When have I ever confided my plans in you ?” I say in a low growl. He looks slightly hopeful. “Then you’ll pay me the five hundred quid that Ekroth was willing to give ?” “I will allow you to continue to breathe. We will call it even, shall we ?” I say flatly. “But the idea of this evening was that she would go to the highest bid
*Everly* Late the following afternoon, freed from my lovely prison, I can’t recall a single time where I have ridden in a carriage with Orley. It is odd to have him sitting across from me, staring out the window at the darkening skies. It will no doubt be raining by nightfall. The air feels heavy and damp, as though it is simply waiting to unburden itself. I don’t even know where we are going, although I recognize the area as we have not yet traveled far from our home. When he had come to my room and commanded me to get ready for a carriage ride, I had almost told him to go to the devil. He had left me to worry all night, wondering if any of the alphas had hinted about an interest in me. But I had been too desperate to leave the house to risk upsetting him by revealing that I am angry with him for his behavior and lack of regard for my feelings. So I had simply donned a black walking dress, matching pelisse, and hat. I hate appearing so docile as it gives the impression that I a
*Raphael*I am standing in the open doorway that leads into my brother’s office at the gambling hell. I can’t recall ever seeing the door closed. At his desk, my brother is bent diligently over his ledgers, his dark head bent in concentration, just as he had been the first time that I had seen him after twelve long years of separation. Tristan’s giant of a man had been waiting at the abbey ruins and he had brought me here, to this very doorway. My grip tightens on the large package I am holding, I shift my gaze to the shelves on the far wall where Tristan keeps his assemblage of assorted globes. He had once told me that he collects them because they give him hope of there being a place better than where he is. I am saddened to see that my brother has acquired a new one. After Tristan had helped me right a wrong I had stupidly done to Anne before she became my wife … when I had no expectation of her ever becoming my wife … I had thought we might be on our way to closing this rift betw
*Tristan* I had never expected to be glad to have a visit from my brother, but for a few moments I had been spared thoughts of miss Everly. She has been haunting me all day, and I know that as of twenty-two minutes ago … if Littlefoot is punctual at all … she has arrived at my residence. Laurence will show her to her bedchamber, introduce her to the maid … Lila … who will see to dressing her, fixing her hair, and whatever else ladies’ maids do. Servants will assist in unpacking her things. They would see that she is settled and comfortable as she waits for my arrival. Spinning the globe, I suddenly wish I was somewhere else … someone else. If my brothers ever learn the truth about the sort of man I truly am, they would want little to do with me. I shove back the rancid thoughts. Mick, my main man, steps through the doorway. His slender physique hides a well-toned body that often gives me a good going over when we are sparring in the boxing room hidden away downstairs. “I though
*Everly* I run. And run. And run. My wolf's legs are churning, my chest aching as I fight for breath, the tears blurring my vision. The rain pelts me, seeping through my fur. It is lies. It is all lies. Orley wouldn’t be so cruel. In spite of the fact that he had never given me reason to think that he likes me overly much, he is innocent in this debacle. He had not known what that horrid Tristan Rafe had assumed, had planned. When I explain to Orley what the man had said, what he expects of me, Orley will call him out. He will surely insist upon pistols at dawn. In honor of his father, he will protect my reputation. He will not allow me to be completely ruined. Although he had never given me cause to believe that he would champion me, he is enough of a gentleman that he will not stand by while some bastard takes advantage of me. All I have to do is to get home. Thank God it isn’t that far. I remember the way. One street, and then another and another, and I will be there. The few
*Tristan* Hell and damnation! As soon as I am in my bedchamber with the door slammed behind me, I begin tearing at my wet clothes before they suffocate me. Buttons go flying, brocade and linen are ripped. I am fighting to draw in breath, I have been ever since I had made the awful decision to carry the woman back to my residence. I knew it was a mistake the moment she wound her arms about my neck and clung painstakingly to me. I couldn’t very well drop her at that point, no matter how desperately I had wanted to be rid of her cloying hold. So I had urged myself on with a mantra: One more step, one more step. Almost there. Knowing all the while that I am lying to myself, that I had a good distance to travel. Why the devil hadn’t I taken the time to have my carriage brought round ? I was almost certain where she was going. Instead, like a blundering idiot, I rushed out into the rain, changed into my Wolf and charged after her to ensure that she reached her destination without being
*Everly* The room is warm, the fire crackling, and yet sitting in front of the fireplace, I feel as though I am carved from ice. My own clothes are a wet mess, so I am wearing one of the maids’ nightdresses and dressing gowns. I had soaked in a tub of hot water for what had seemed like hours. My hair is braided. I curl one bare foot over the other. I should strive to determine what I am to do about this unfortunate circumstance, but I seem incapable of managing little more than staring at the yellow and orange flames. Orley’s strange behavior in the carriage, his cryptic words … I was quite amazed that he had been able to meet and hold my gaze at least once. If I sought to destroy the very fabric of his being, I would not be able to face him. A mistress, not a wife. That is what I am to become, what he expects for my future, what he sought to give me. Not love, not a family, not a place in Society. It is not to be tolerated. What are my options? Literally, all I possess is the clo
*Everly* My stomach lurches at the truth of his words. my father had protected me from the gossip and rumors, and in doing so, he had given me false expectations. I thought I would marry a ranked wolf, an Alpha or beta, and now I am discovering I am not worthy of the lowest omega. Studying this man, I see no kindness in his features, no compassion, no sympathy. Yet he had come after me, carrying me through the rain. Because he thought he owned me, or is it because as he had said, he knows what it is to be where I am? But how could that be when he is the third son of a very high ranking Alpha? “I’ll have your answer now,” He says. “You won’t even allow me the kindness of sleeping on it?” I ask. He shrugs. “I told you last night that I am not kind.” But I can see that he is strong, implacable, confident. If I could learn from him to be the same, perhaps no one would ever be able to take advantage of me again. It makes my stomach churn uncomfortably to realize that all the men las