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)
Armand
I find Mr. Volkov on the balcony outside the library, smoking a cigarette. He has shed his jacket and is down to shirtsleeves that are rolled up to his elbows. He is leaning over the railing, but stands straight up when I get closer.
“Maître,” he nods.
“Mr. Volkov. How was your first session?”
His thick brows rise just a fraction, as if he finds the question surprising, or as if he expects me to feel as though the question was out of place. He is still facing the garden, not me.
“I cannot discuss private sessions.”
“I see. Well. From the sounds of it, there’s not much to discuss. You sat largely in silence, doing nothing, saying little. Beatrix was confused and concerned. Why did you antagonize my mate?”
Mr. Volkov glances at me briefly then responds in a slow drawl tinged with a Nordic accent that makes him sound simultaneously superior and disinterested.
“Why does the fact that your mate is unhappy with me, though unharmed in every way, make you so defensive? Why can’t she be annoyed without you coming to her aid?”
“I paid you to help her, not piss her off.”
“You paid me to help establish healthier dynamics. I have my own methods for doing that. You agreed, at the outset, to try these methods. Now that your mate is complaining, you want to fix the problem, and you’re furious with me.”
“I’m not furious. I’m curious.”
He offers me a sidelong smirk, still not giving me the courtesy of looking at me directly. This man is arrogant. He was more pleasant when I initially interviewed him, but that was over Zoom, and he had to look at the camera.
“If you don’t feel able to offer services, we are happy to host you at the nearby town…”
“You mean the one where your mate murders people?”
Blunt. Rude. And not something that should ever be said out loud. We have managed to keep Beatrix’s murderous outburst quiet. The villagers believe it was a freak wolf attack, and the distance of police means that there was no investigation.
“You may pack your things, Monsieur,” I say.
He turns to me, a smile on his face.
“You really don’t like the truth, do you, Maître? Too used to dealing with people who have to submit to you in conversation and deed?”
“This is not about me. I retained your services because I want help for my mate. I will participate because you told me that it would help her. But I did not consent to be spoken down to by…”
“Yeah! Kill him!”
Beatrix pops up behind us, having apparently been listening in. She heard me getting heated. She felt my energy shift. She caught me just before I got to the verge of… I sigh inwardly. I have to manage myself better, or I will never manage her.
“I’m not going to kill him, Beatrix.” I turn to her, where she is smiling hopefully, her long, dark hair flowing in the breeze. She is beautiful when she is vengeful.
“You’re not?” She pouts. “Why not?”
“He’s annoying, not deserving of murder.”
“Well, I can’t kill him by myself. He’s too big.”
“Beatrix, go and do something else. Anything else.”
She smirks and turns away, causing me to rethink my instructions immediately. “Wait! Not anything else. Everybody needs to remain unscathed.”
I turn back to Mr. Volkov once she is gone, unsettled with half my mind now wondering what she is doing.
“As you were saying.”
“Yes. As I was saying. You two are a good match,” he says.
“Oh, you think so?”
Is he trying to suck up to me now? Some kind of psychological head game?
“The pair of you have one thing in common with each other. You both like to lie to yourselves about what you are feeling. You’re furious. She’s hurt.”
“I’m not furious.”
“You ooze with repressed fury, Maître.”
“I do not.”
“Of course you do. That is why you have done very little to restrain your mate. Why you delight in her viciousness. She is what you wish you could be. She’s more free than you are.”
“I have no interest in controlling my mate, because I want her free to love me. I have seen males who control their mates in ways that crush their spirits. I want to bring hers out of her, not be another person in her life she has to hide from.”
He looks at me keenly, and I am sure what he considers to be perceptively. “Are you hiding?”
Oh, fuck off.
I turn on my heel without saying those three little words that are absolutely pounding in my brain, and I leave.
I, maître, alpha of the pack, abandon my balcony because the man on it makes me think things I do not want to think and feel things I do not want to feel.
She’s right, he is an asshole.
“Are you sure we can’t kill him?”
Trixie slides out of the shadows in the hall as I pass. She hadn’t gone far. The likely interpretation is that she was spying on us, but I get the feeling she was keeping an eye out for me. I think we both feel a certain kind of threat from Mr. Volkov.