Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Sounds cute.”
“I am led to believe it is, but I am glad you are entirely wild. You are absolutely stunning in your wolf form, Beatrix. You are a beauty inside and out. Thick pelt, tipped with white and that mask about your eyes and muzzle. You are the color of driven snow and exposed granite.”
I stare at him, the compliment hitting me deeply. He thinks I am beautiful. Not just as a human with big breasts and young body. He thinks I’m beautiful when I am shaggy and messy and wild.
“Thank you,” I say. “That is very nice.”
“Not nice, true. You’re stunning. The pack is going to be absolutely beside themselves. Look at yourself.”
I look in the full length mirror he has turned me toward and I find myself transformed in an entirely new way. I am elegant, I am tall. I am beautiful—he put a little color on my lips and mascara on my lashes when he was fussing with me. My hair is braided back from my face, but falls in dark curling locks down my back.
“They are going to lose their minds when they see you. I am losing my mind this moment,” he says, lifting my hand to his mouth. He presses an adoring kiss to it, and I start to believe that he might be right. If I can look this different, maybe I can be this different.
CHAPTER 7
Beatrix
The dining room, like the rest of the chateau, is majestic and very old money. This place was built and decorated when men still believed in being extra for the sake of being extra. There is not an unadorned corner in the place. Art is built into the very bones of this building, into every wall, every ceiling, every light switch.
There are dozens of people here. Maybe forty, all sitting at a very long table. They rise as we come in, smiles plastered on their faces. I am not used to people smiling at me because I walked into a room. At first I assume they are looking at Armand. Who wouldn’t? Tall, rakishly and elegantly handsome, with those eyes that pierce you entirely when they fall on you. I can see why the pack chose him as replacement at twenty-four. He is every inch an alpha.
I look at him to try to tell what I’m supposed to do, and like magic he pulls my chair out for me. Everybody sits as I do. It’s honestly kind of weird. For a second, I think about standing up again to see if they all get up, but I don’t have the nerve.
Besides, food is already being delivered by white-gloved waiters. A plate is slid in front of me containing an orange-looking soup with bits of something that isn’t quite fish in it.
“Lobster bisque,” Armand murmurs to me as I stare at it for just a little too long.
“Wolves eat lobster… what’s a bisque?”
“A kind of soup.”
He picks up one of the spoons provided and hands it to me. “Try it, ma cherie.”
I taste it and find that it’s not too bad. Quite rich, and very much not what I am used to. The only soup we got at the orphanage was more like gruel.
The second course is more along the lines of what I assume we’d eat.
“Filet de bœuf Rossini,” Armand says. “Beef tenderloin with a truffle sauce and crispy potatoes.”
“It’s delicious,” I say, after taking a bite and realizing that my entire experience of food has been stunted in ways I cannot describe. I quite literally did not know it could be this good. I didn’t know it could feel like a painting being painted inside my mouth.
The waiter keeps my wineglass filled as well, and nobody stops me when I sip it. I am more than of age, of course, but it still feels strange because the orphanage strictly banned alcohol. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy, and it makes the strings between Armand and me, the invisible bonds between me and this stranger positively vibrate. I find myself gazing at him every chance I get, a fact he seems to notice and enjoy.
Is this love? I really didn’t think I’d ever be in love. I definitely never thought anybody would love me. He’s gorgeous, powerful, and entirely too rich for his and anybody else’s good. This feels like a dream.
“Tell me this is really happening,” I murmur to him. “Please tell me this is real.”
He leans over and places a nibbling little kiss on my neck, igniting thrills inside me. This is real. It’s as real as anything has ever been. I spare a little thought for the other girls, wondering what they’d think if they saw me now. I hope they’ve found places as good as mine, though I suspect they haven’t.
By the time the third course arrives, a selection of cheeses and such, I’ve relaxed enough to dare to make conversation with the other pack members.