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)
CHAPTER 5
Armand
After my wailing, shrieking, writhing mate reaches climax under my hand, I take her to bed where she sleeps in my arms. The barrier of propriety between us has been broken. She is mine, and she will only become more mine hour by hour, day by day.
In the past, a female in my bed has always been more like a warm obstacle to a comfortable night’s sleep, but it is different with Beatrix. She feels as though she belongs with me, lying on my arm, taking up too much of the bed, stealing the sheets, moving in the middle of the night, all habits I would usually find absolutely insufferable. I do more than tolerate them from her, I enjoy them. They are reminders that she is here with me.
We wake with the train still rolling, not far from our destination. We have moved from public to private tracks, and so we are moving at a clip through countryside where most have no right to be. Some call it a farm. We call it our territorial lands. They are open and they cover hundreds of miles of rolling fields and forests, all surrounding a palace that belongs to my family.
“Good morning, Beatrix.”
She opens her eyes and I see the bolt of consternation in their deep brown gaze.
I roll out of bed, giving her some space as she gathers the sheet up over her breasts.
“So that all really happened.”
“Yes,” I smile. “It did. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she says.
I toss her a shirt. “Try not to rip this one up,” I tell her.
She gives me a little smirk. Not quite sorry. Not quite unrepentant either. She shrugs the shirt over her head and pulls her hair out from the collar. Her beauty is natural, dark, and wildly worrisome for a man like me who needs to maintain control for everyone’s sake and safety.
She slides out of bed, looking slightly tousled and quite adorable. I wrap my arms around her and draw her into an embrace. I want her to know that my affection endures in spite of our rough start.
We are still some way from the train platform as we wake and breakfast. The dining car has plenty available. I notice she goes for the croissants and brioche again. My mate likes her butter-rich baked goods.
I take the opportunity to introduce her to Daniel and Marcel, the latter of whom is a man older than me by ten years, a sleek, smart member of the pack who I suspect may already know what concerns me. He might have put two and two together. He might not.
“Daniel, Marcel, this is Beatrix. My mate.”
“I had the honor of biting your ankles last night,” Marcel says with absolutely nothing in the way of refinement.
“You were one of the many who had to give chase?” Beatrix replies in kind. “How many did it take to bring me down? Four?”
“Five,” Daniel says, butting in. “You gave us a good chase.”
“I was just getting started,” she says. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Alright, that’s enough. There will be no more running.”
Marcel, Daniel, and Beatrix exchange looks that suggest they all know better. I too, know better, but it is my job to enforce order.
I put my hand on the back of her neck and squeeze lightly. Does she remember what it felt like to have my teeth sinking in last night? I hope so. I hope this triggers some semblance of obedience.
I feel her tense under my fingers, then relax as a wave of submission runs through her. I lean in and speak in a low growl next to her ear.
“Better,” I say. “Daniel, we’re almost home. My mate will need a complete wardrobe…”
“Already organized, Maître,” he says. “The message was sent ahead not long after she boarded. There should be an array of clothing waiting when you arrive.”
“Good.”
Beatrix looks slightly confused, or perhaps embarrassed, as if she doesn’t know how to react to such plans being made in front of her. She will get used to it, and in time will make her own orders. She will never have to want for anything again.
“Is there anything you would like, my mate? I can have the order sent through.”
“No, thank you.” She shakes her head. “I can’t… I mean…”
“In time, you will become accustomed to asking for what you need, and getting it each and every time,” I promise her.
I am not only talking about clothes.
The train is moving smoothly through ancestral lands now, approaching the seat of my family, the place the de Lune pack has called home for centuries.
“You’re almost home,” I tell her.
“Home?” She cocks her head, as if she doesn’t connect the word with herself, as if the very concept of being somewhere she belongs is so foreign she cannot quite fathom it.
“My home. Our home. And now yours.”