Series: Lee Savino
Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
He smiles, like he’s pleased he won my tears. “And I have upheld my end of the bargain. You are the one who tried to flee.”
My nose burns. I clench my fists so tightly my nails dig into my palms. “It won’t happen again,” I say stiffly.
“Good.” He beckons to me. “Now, put on your mask. I expect you to make a better impression than you did last night. I’m not just leasing your services to your new fiance.”
Alarm bells go off. The room swoops around me. Cold rushes through my limbs. Somehow, I know that whatever he means, it’s going to be terrible.
“What are you talking about?” I don’t keep the warble out of my voice.
“The highest bidder will also take your virginity, darling. We’ve kept you locked away from men for far too long,” he says as he ties the mask on. “It’s high time I breed you to see if my grandchildren are equally as talented.”
I catch the wall to keep from falling over. Now the cold turns to hot, like hot iron pouring down through the top of my head and into my chest, creating a terrible rushing in my ears.
Thom’s lips twist into a satisfied smile at my reaction. He picks up the masquerade mask and walks around behind me to put it on.
I should run. I should dive out the window and break my neck rather than give him the satisfaction of breeding me.
Except for Wren. I can’t go off half-cocked until I have a plan to get her to safety. I can’t risk him pulling her out of school to do the same horrifying things to her.
The silk of the mask drapes over my eyes, and he ties it in the back. My hairs stand on end at having the devil so close to me.
Chapter Three
Darius
Thom’s masquerade ball isn’t just for the house guests. He invited an extended list of friends and acquaintances to join the party tonight. Starting at dusk, a never-ending line of Lamborghinis, Bugattis, and Rolls Royces convenes on the mansion. I pick up the flimsy black mask a staff member delivered a few minutes ago. It’ll go well with my black on black tux. I look like James Bond, but I can’t shake my apprehension.
Tonight, I intend to find out what’s going on with Paloma. There’s something wrong here. I don’t have proof, but I know it in my gut.
My bear wants to rampage. After years of keeping the upper hand, I’m tested now by his uprising. When I glance in the mirror, my eyes are golden. I have to fight to get my bear under control, so my eyes return to their human color. Only threatening to stay in my room gets him to recede. He wants to see Paloma. If it were up to him, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.
But I’m not an uncivilized Neanderthal. When I was young, I was a wild child, almost feral. I’ve spent years building up my control, and I’m not about to lose my head.
I shaved my face clean earlier, but when I exit my bedroom, I have a beard. My bear’s way of rebelling. I’ll allow it, as long as he knows his place.
I saunter into the ballroom, accepting a glass of champagne. Thom must have hired a whole agency of models to attend because there are tall and attractive women everywhere I look. The models tower over the frat boys, who all look like Christmas has come early. The rest of the crowd is the bored, rich set who live in the Hamptons. I float through them, nodding at people I know through business. I keep it moving, waiting to catch the gardenia scent.
Paloma enters the room surrounded by a flock of bodyguards. They keep multiplying. Soon she’ll have better security than a president.
I move closer to get a better glimpse of her. She’s in white again, her lush breasts pushed up and framed in a strapless top. The color makes her glow like a goddess. Even with the mask hiding those big expressive eyes, it’s clear she’s the loveliest woman in the room.
There’s a queue of country club types forming a line beside her. The band strikes up, and I don’t need my shifter hearing to know that she’s being induced to dance. A man twice her age leads her out to the dance floor. She dances with him, and halfway through the song, the next man cuts in and claims her. Then the next. There’s no surprise on her face when each new partner arrives. There’s no pretense of enjoyment, either. She doesn’t make much conversation with any of them. It’s almost as if it’s prearranged—who she will dance with and when. As if this is Paloma’s coming out party, and she’s now available on the marriage market.