7: Misunderstandings In The Air

Quinlan sat at the table in the dining hall, ready to have breakfast alone since Penelope was keeping herself busy in the garden. He was hardly ever at home because of his position as Beta to the Alpha of the Arrowhead Pack. He had his own room in Alpha Kieran's castle, visited his home once or twice in a week to pick up things.

He lived with his Alpha, always at his beck and call, assisting him, advised him. They had a friendship bond until he brought Cecile to the castle once, and she began sneaking behind his back to meet with Alpha Kieran and Quinlan ended up getting face smacked when Alpha Kieran announced his engagement to Cecile, Quinlan's lover.

Cecile lied to the Alpha that they were just having a casual fling and there wasn't anything serious between them. It pained Quinlan that his Alpha could believe a woman more than him and what hurt the most was that Cecile denied him, because of her thirst to be Luna over the Arrowhead Pack.

They threw a huge wedding and invited people from the neighboring packs and Quinlan forced himself to attend the wedding because he had no choice. He was Alpha Kieran's Beta, his hand. And so he watched the woman he loved get wedded to his Alpha, with a heart aching like it was being crunched by the poisonous claws of a demon wolf.

Quinlan shook these thoughts off his head when an under-butler came to the table with an invitation card.

"Here, my lord. I fetched this outside," the under butler placed the invitation card on the table.

Quinlan picked it up and let his eyes access it, before sliding it open and realizing it was an invitation card to the Wolf Dance by Lord Williams, the lead elder of the Arrowhead Pack.

The wolf dance occurs once every three months for just men. There was drinking, feasting, merriment, and then the dance. Married women were forbidden to attend this ceremony when only it was because they didn't want their wives and lovers to witness them sleeping with several prostitutes. It was mostly a night of orgy. Fuck whoever you wanted under the disguise of a mask. This was kept as a secret known between just men and the prostitutes who served them.

Quinlan's face twisted into a frown because he couldn't picture himself being among those men. He wondered why he got invited.

He flipped the card to the back and shook his head when he saw, 'Marriage has made you a full lad, now you need to know what it feels like to have a wife and then cheat.'

"What in the devilment is wrong with lord Williams?" Quinlan muttered in distaste as he kept the card down.

There was this parable: a man gets tired of eating one food, so he'd go outside to have a taste of different food elsewhere. And if the taste was exquisite, they continue.

These men used his excuse to cheat on their wives. Thankfully few men like him stuck to only one wife or lover. And what did he get for being faithful to Cecile? His heart got plucked out of his chest, thrown over the floor, and crunched with the edge of her shoe.

Quinlan decided not to let his heartache overwhelm him, so he served himself some scrambled eggs. They were cold just as he liked them. People always told him how weird he was to eat cold eggs, but it was one of his favorites. He liked them free of heat, fried in milk and a touch of vegetable oil.

He forked some eggs and put them into his mouth. His eyes dilated and immediately bugged out as he chewed and let it take over his taste buds. Because the eggs tasted so nice and different. Almost like his mom's, that he paused to wonder if she came in somehow and made his breakfast. But he knew it wasn't her.

He ate it all within seconds and reached for the ham with his knife and fork. After having a bite, he figured it was too much and so he slammed his fist on the table. Startling the cook who was bringing in a tray of pancakes and syrup.

"Celesta, what did you add to the food? I can't remember you preparing something this nice for me. Everything has a different taste, makes me want to lose all sanity, let my wolf take full charge and finish everything on this table in seconds."

The plump lady chuckled as she placed the pancakes in front and proceeded to pour him some tea, "My lord, it wasn't me who made breakfast today. Lady Penelope did. She's a gourmet cook. Her culinary skills are top-notch,"

Quinlan upon hearing this swallowed his ham in one hurtful gulp that made his eyes water.

"Come again, perhaps I might have misheard you."

"It was your wife who made your breakfast, my lord. Told me and the rest that she wanted to prepare a nice breakfast for you." The cook provided.

And Quinlan let go of his fork, before lowering his head to the plates of food in front of him.

Penelope made this herself?

What more was there to her?

A well-mannered whore who gardened and could cook and clean?

He thought whores were different.

Everything tasted out of this world.

No, he needed to stop her before it got too late. She was to relax and let the servants do everything or else he would start seeing her differently from the way she was.

It was at that moment Penelope came into the dining hall. She had her sleeves rolled down and her hair was packed up in a messy bun that left strands of hair outside.

"I finished with the gardening earlier than I thought," she sat down opposite his chair without casting him a glance. But her lip was still curved upward.

Quinlan wondered why ninety-nine percent of the time he saw her, she was smiling. But that was beside the point.

"I was told you liked your eggs cold my lord," she was helping herself with some pancakes, while Quinlan slowly observed her with his index finger curled around his nose, "perhaps I might add more cream milk the next time I make them."

"No," came his firm response.

"What?" Penelope allowed her eyes to meet his, her fork of Pancakes an inch away from her mouth.

"There shouldn't be a next time, Penelope," Quinlan's tone was hardened as he reproved her.

Penelope stared at him, puzzled. She didn't eat the pancakes, she kept the fork down instead and narrowed her eyes at him in wonder.

"Why?" She inquired, staring at him suspiciously.

"I don't want you doing anything in here. Cleaning, gardening, and then cooking. Hell, even making my bath for me. You're not that kind of woman. I don't see you like that, so please stop." Quinlan concluded breathlessly and then placed his hand on the table.

There was silence as Penelope observed him. Her lips weren't curved this time. Good. Because that signature look she always had on her face with those lips was beginning to irk him.

"You don't want me helping around?" Came her soft but loud question.

"No, just do you, okay? Whores do not clean, cook, and make baths for men. Worse, gardening."

"I suppose I am a different whore then." Her eyes never left his face and it made Quinlan uncomfortable, "What do you expect me to do? Sit down and do nothing?"

"Yes, I don't want to see you differently from the way you already are." He deadpanned and then clenched his jaw.

Penelope squinted yet again, and placed her elbow on the table before leaning toward him, her brown eyes searching his own gray eyes.

"Are you afraid you'll fall in love with me?"

This statement made a chuckle bubble from Quinlan's chest before his gaze formed in all seriousness.

"I'll take it that you're being comical, Penelope. I wouldn't fall in love with you even if you were the last woman on earth. If falling in love with you is like water and I am thirsty, I'd rather die of thirst even if I needed it to survive," he blurted out and then instantly regretted it because he felt it was too harsh on her. But Penelope gave him a side-lipped smirk.

"Someone else would have picked offense, but I won't. Because this is reality and no one will fall in love with a whore like me," her mind flashed back to where she told the maid they got married because they grew in love. And she snickered, knowing Quinlan would find that very upsetting.

"Just let me go about with my business, Quinlan. This isn't your dick that I came for last night.." she was talking when Quinlan cut her shut because she mentioned his member. He even gave an eye-roll that screamed, 'Here we go again.'

"Oh, for the love of.." but she interrupted him and continued.

"I am following the terms of the contract and you'll let me do as I please. I might be a whore but it doesn't mean I wasn't taught how to cook, clean, and garden." Penelope gritted out, curling her fingers into a fist.