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)
The last part is the sound he makes as I kick his knees out from behind, making him fall into a subservient kneeling position as I stalk around him.
“My alpha, I…”
“I heard what you were saying. Bold words, Duplante. I should cut your tongue out for daring to utter them under my roof.”
We like to appear civilized in this pack. Our meals are fine and our clothes are elegant and the home we live in is undeniably a vessel of the finest art and culture, but we are wolves and underneath it all we are animals. Things can become very brutal, primal, and animal if they need to.
Fear flashes through his eyes, but so does loathing. He does not like my mate. He does not like that I love her, and that I will not harm her for his amusement. It is possible that one day she will do something that deserves punishment of a public nature, and if he were in the inner circle, he would know full well that she has already been punished that way, but it will not be at the behest of a cringing beast like him.
“We are ancient creatures, and there are medieval consequences for disrespect. My mate gave you a gentle reminder that you would have done well to accept. I will not be as kind as she was. I will not limit my remonstrations to stern words.”
Like the fool he is, Duplante decides to argue.
“You did not lift a finger when your mate…”
“Exactly. She is my mate. She is above reproach.”
I know as soon as those words have left my mouth they are a mistake, but I am not about to walk them back. I will support my mate’s rights and her wrongs.
“She is barely an adult. This pack is run by children…”
He is fortunate that I am not an absolute psychotic who would kill him outright for daring to question me. There is a coldness inside me, a rage that wants some kind of penance, because I know very well that he is not just talking about my mate. He is talking about me. I am the youngest alpha the pack has seen, and many of these older males feel as though they were passed over. The fact that I am my father’s son further rankles. The youngest of his siblings, some feel that he was not suitable as a replacement for his father.
This insult will not go unanswered.
“Take your wolf form.”
“I meant no disrespect, Maître,” he says, unwilling to back up his words with his flesh. He lies to my face, gives me nothing but disrespect, but pretends these words alone would be enough to mollify my growing rage.
“Take your wolf form, or I will draw my sword and cut you down where you stand. Tonight was a gathering to celebrate the long-awaited arrival of my mate. She has been long desired by the pack. And you have managed to make it all about you and your sniveling complaints because she would not tolerate your boorishness.”
Now I see fear on his face. It is a face that has not emoted nearly enough of that feeling in his life. This is a man who has been spoiled by privilege and believes his status will allow him to escape punishment. He is wrong.
Beatrix
After dinner I find myself in the company of the ladies who are excited to meet and chat with me. I have little to say about myself, so I avoid doing so and instead prefer to ask them questions about themselves, which they mostly enjoy. It’s not the worst thing that ever happened to me, but halfway through someone’s sentence about cheese, I hear the sounds of discontent faintly at a distance.
The sound draws me like a moth to the flame. The women had been entertaining me very nicely, but this seems far more interesting. The sounds are muffled at first, again passing beneath the notice of most of the pack.
I look around, seeing if anybody else is hearing this, but they don’t seem to. I expected their hearing to be better. Hard to tell if that is because they are trying to be polite, or because they are genuinely unable to detect chaos about to unfold.
I am starting to sense that I am different from this pack. At first, the fascination of meeting a great number of my kind was exciting. But I am starting to think that I might not be quite the same thing they are. I am closer to them than I am to most people, of course, but they are softer and more domestic than I imagined.
I excuse myself by telling them I am tired, and I go to find my mate. As I walk through the chateau, I hear voices. One slightly raised, one begging for his life.