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35: Hurting him
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Sold to the coldhearted beast 36: Her realisation
*Everly* I follow him out of the room, up two flights of stairs, and down a hallway with several rooms. I might have thought this was the bordello portion except that the doors are open. The walls are papered in burgundy, with gold vines. More tasteful than I would have expected. Gas lamps flicker along the walls. Glancing through a doorway into a room we are passing, I stop. “This is your office; it’s where you work.” I stroll inside. It is spartan. A desk. A chair in front of it, and another behind it. A table with decanters. The windows are bare, looking out onto the night. “Why do you say that?” he asks. Looking over my shoulder, I see him leaning against the door jamb, his arms crossed over his chest. “The globes.” They are sprinkled about numerous shelves on three walls. “There must be a hundred of them.” “A hundred and two to be exact.” Astonished, I twist around. “Does that include the ones at the residence?” “No.” “Why do you collect them? What’s your fascination wit
Sold to the coldhearted beast 37: Facing her brother
*Everly* The clock on the mantel is veering toward eleven when I awake. I never sleep late. I suppose that is what happens when one entertains gentlemen at all hours of the night. I climb out of bed, ring for my maid, walk to the window, and draw back the draperies, not surprised to discover it is a dreary overcast day. Although it hardly matches my mood. One of these nights he will come to me and they will do more than talk. It is the terms to which I had agreed. I will honor them. I might not have much left to me but I have my word. The door opens and I glance over my shoulder at my maid. The air in the room doesn’t take on an energetic charge, seems to shrink in size, or become more alive with her entry. “I shall want fresh linens on the bed today.” Lila seems surprised. “Yes, miss. We put on fresh linens every day.” Of course they do. Lila goes to the wardrobe and retrieves the mourning dress in which I had arrived that fateful night. It seems an eternity has passed. Sudde
Sold to the coldhearted beast 38: Bad memories
*Tristan* In the late afternoon I stand at the window of my office, looking out on the street, watching as people bustle by. I do not know why I had not returned to my residence with Eve. I had wanted her, by the Goddess, how I had wanted her. Standing there in my apartment with the lights from outside, and the dim glow inside casting her in shadows that ebbed and flowed with her movements, she had been a seductress. Her smoky voice and her throaty laughter had added to the allure. My eyes slide close as I remember the kiss. She is becoming quite masterful at parrying. I had almost given her rein to wrap her arms around me, almost. I had felt the brush of her hands, craved the touch as much as it repelled me. My chest had tightened, sweat had popped out on my forehead, and I had known that I would shove her aside, possibly hurt her, so I had snatched her wrists before any damage was done. I do not want her first time to be in my den of iniquity, or in my carriage, or in the stre
Sold to the coldhearted beast 39: Giving her everything
*Tristan* I am standing in my library savoring my Scotch. Upon arriving, I had been informed by Laurence that Miss Everly had indicated that I am to wait in the library. I am to wait for her. That is not the way of mistresses. Though I have no one to blame but myself. I have neglected to provide her with a complete list of my rules. The door opens. She glides in and I nearly swallow my tongue. My fingers are tightening around my glass and I suspect if it wasn't so thick that it would have shattered. Miracle of miracles, the black is gone at last. She wears the purple gown, the one I got made for her. Her upswept hair catches the light, causing it to flicker over the pale locks, captivating me. The necklace her father had given her sparkles at her throat, tempting me to kiss over it, beneath it, along it until I reached the shell of her ear where I could nibble lingeringly. She exudes confidence. Yet as she gets near I see the doubts, the insecurity. I wish I were a man of poe
Sold to the coldhearted beast 40: Dinner date
*Everly* We eat in the sitting room that looks out on the garden. I had my father’s portrait removed earlier. I will have it returned tomorrow. But for tonight I wanted the intimacy of a smaller room. The dining room is too large, too formal, too cold. Candles flickers. Servants bring in the food, one course after another. I barely touch anything, and am aware of his constant gaze. Whether he is eating or sipping on his wine, he is looking at me. I had clung to a vain gossamer hope that things between us would not progress, that I might become more of a companion than a mistress. Talking of inconsequential topics over dinner, reading to him as he had asked that first morning. But the extent to which I am already in his debt astounds me. I had given no thought to the small things. “That’s how men lose fortunes, isn’t it ? They lose a little bit at a time, hardly giving it any credence … then suddenly they look around them and everything is gone”. He studies me over the rim of
Sold to the coldhearted beast 41: Kiss of control
*Tristan* In the library, I stand by the fireplace and drink my best Scotch, one glass after another, while she sits in a nearby chair, her posture perfect. In the end, she isn’t Reading me poetry but some story about windswept moors and haunting love. But I am not listening to the words as much as I am the lilt and smoky cadence of her voice. The raspiness of it has intrigued me from the beginning. She could recite the letters of the alphabet and hold me enthralled. Dangerous, so very dangerous. I want to sweep her up into my arms and carry her upstairs, even knowing the hell that holding her so close would bring. Watching her, I can almost forget my limitations, that there is so much I can not give her, and for the first time in my life, my inadequacies fill me with regret. I am vain enough to acknowledge that on the surface I am a handsome enough fellow. It is what lies beneath that would turn her away. The dark parts, the secrets, the things I have done. If she knew of those,
Sold to the coldhearted beast 42: The demons of a madman
*Everly* He bends his arms, and manages, without his body touching mine, to give me a quick kiss on the lips. Then he is easing off of me. Cold instantly talking over his place. “Are you leaving ?” I ask. “Not yet. Wait here”. He says softly. As though I have a choice, as though I am not lethargic and my limbs haven't been turned into jelly. I study him as he walks over to the sink. I like the shape of his buttocks, the way the muscles flexes with his movements. I am a mistress now. I should probably be able to enjoy the male form without feeling guilty about it. It is my job. He washes himself quickly, then returns to me with washrag in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he begin to gently swipe at the inside of my thighs. “There’s not as much blood as I thought there would be”. He says, his voice filled with wonder. “Am I your first virgin ?” I ask with surprise. He lifts his gaze to mine, and for the span of a heartbeat, he appears younger than he usually does, more inn
Sold to the coldhearted beast 43: Pearls for women
*Everly* Even if he hadn’t told me that he would be gone when I woke, I would have known. The residence takes on a different feel when he isn’t there. I can’t quite explain it, but it seems emptier, less vital, more plain. After Lila has helped me dress, I step into the hallway just as a rather short and podgy servant is opening the door to the bedchamber across the hall. Ironed shirts are draped across his left arm. I try not to stare at the clawlike gloved hand that seems to be frozen in a most uncomfortable position. He stops and gives a quick bow. “Good morning, miss. I’m Mr. Rafe’s valet. Bateman”. I force myself to smile so he will not read my mind. I am wondering how a one-handed valet can possibly see to his duties properly. He must have seen what I am thinking, however, because he explains. “My hand got smashed when I was younger. It never healed properly. Still aches a bit, especially when the weather is cold and damp”. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m certain you’re a marv
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Sold to the coldhearted beast 66: Epilogue
Snow Moon Castle, WolfshireWinter 1864 Tonight is the night we were supposed to die. Instead, we will make love to our wives. But for now, in the late wintry afternoon, we sit upon our horses, at the top of the rise, looking down on Snow Moon Castle. The castle looms in the distance, its frost-covered stone walls shimmering as the sun begins to set. The frigid air bites at our cheeks, and our breaths create clouds of steam as we take in the sight before us. From our vantage point, we can see the remnants of the tower that had served as our prison so many years before. Stephan, with a determined look in his eyes, has been slowly tearing it down, his sledgehammer against one brick at a time. The once imposing structure is now a mere skeleton of its former self, a testament to the resilience and defiance that had brought us to this moment. "Difficult to believe it's been twenty years". Raphael says, his voice filled with disbelief and a hint of nostalgia. The years have left their m
Sold to the coldhearted beast 65: Wedding Night
*Everly* Tristan carries me up the steps. The door opens. Laurence bows his head slightly as we walk past. "Welcome home, my Beta, my lady”. My lady. I almost laugh. As Tristan begins climbing the stairs, I say. "Who would have thought the illegitimate daughter of an Alpha would one day be a lady ?" "You were a lady the moment you were born”. He says softly. "You once told me I was ruined the moment I was born”. I point out. He gives me a sheepish grin. "That was before I knew you. I was a foolish man then”. Not so foolish, I think. Cautious, rather. Not daring to care for anything that he might lose. He lost me once. He will never lose me again. The door to his bedchamber is open, and he sweeps me inside, kicking the door closed behind him. When he sets me on my feet, I knock aside his hat and run my fingers up into his hair. "Oh, I have missed this, missed you”. "Mary and her silly rules about respectability”. Bracketing his hands on either side of my face, he looks at me ser
Sold to the coldhearted beast 64: Wedding
*Tristan* Studying my reflection in the mirror, I tug on my light gray waistcoat. It takes an inordinate amount of time to dress these days. My hand has healed but the mobility in it isn't what it once was. Dr. Grimley set the bones together as best as he could. I'm grateful for that, at least. I haven't lost my hand completely, and I'm learning to write with my right. In retrospect, I suppose I could have told Grimmock from the outset that I was left-handed, so he would have broken the right, but I'm familiar enough with the man's torturous ways to know that a time would come when I would have signed anything the man put before me in order to stop the pain. And I would be damned before I gave the man anything that belonged to Eve or to Mick, for that matter. So damned I am. But not as much as Grimmock. During the three months since my rescue, I have found myself spending more time with my brothers, and I wonder why I had resisted being in their company for so long. Late into th
Sold to the coldhearted beast 63: Settling debt
*Tristan* The boxing room is more shadows than light, but then it usually is. Most of the light focuses on the ring where Alpha Ekro stands, as he keeps glancing around at the other men surrounding the roped-off area. I called the meeting, and invited Ekro into the ring. It seemed like he was going to decline the invitation until Mick ushers him in with a gentle prodding and the lifting of the rope. Splints keep my left hand immobile and it's far from being completely healed, but I can pack quite the punch with my right. I wonder if Ekro recognizes the significance of the group of men who are in attendance. If any of them realize why they have been singled out for this particular lesson. "Don't keep us in suspense, Tristan. What's the meaning of all this ?" Ekro asks. "Beta Rafe". I correct him. He looks at me with confusion. "Pardon ?" "Not Tristan, but Beta Tristan Rafe. That's how I should be addressed". He huffs lightly. "I didn't think you cared much for your heritage".
Sold to the coldhearted beast 62: I want to make you laugh
*Tristan* They come for me and take me back to the almost empty room, placing me in the chair at the table, securing me to it. This time Grimmock is sitting too, scrawling on the paper. "When I'm finished here, you will just sign it as best you can”. He says. "Then your hell will be over”. I doubt it. I have not gone mad with the binding. I simply pretend that they are Eve's arms, wrapped around me, holding me close, as she whispers words of encouragement. All will be well, everything will turn out fine. Lies. I can survive on lies. So could a boy. "Do you already forget that I write with my left hand?" I ask. "I don't forget anything. I did not forget how you blackmailed me”. He lifts his gaze and stares pointedly at me, with one eye closed and the other hard and accusing. "I did not forget how you turned my own lads against me. Even those who owed me coins stopped fearing me, thought you were keeping watch over them”. I won't go so far as to say that I was keeping watch over
Sold to the coldhearted beast 61: Some truths and some pain
*Everly* As I follow Manson down the hallway, with Raphael and Stephan behind me, I realize how differently I view this residence now. Once I considered it my home, but I understand now that it was my father who made it a home, not the walls, the portraits, the furniture or the decorative pieces, although there seem to be far less of those now. I wonder how many items Orley has sold to relieve his debts. When we walk into the library, Orley jumps out of his chair and hurries around his desk. “My Alpha, Beta Raphael, sirs, this is an unexpected surprise”. I can't help but notice how he ignored me. “You know Miss Everly, do you not ?” The Alpha asks. Orley's face turns mottled red. “Yes, of course”. “You would be remiss not to greet her as well”. Stephan says in a tone that is clearly a demand. He gives me a perfunctory nod. “Miss Everly”. “My Alpha. May I say that you are not looking well these days ?” He had lost weight, much like me after the death of my father. His skin ha
Sold to the coldhearted beast 60: Searching
*Everly* I think I should be hungry, especially as the dinner set before me is one of the finest I have ever seen, but everything tastes of nothing. I eat tiny bites because it makes things more palatable. "Is it not to your liking ?" Mary asks. "I can have Cook prepare something else”. I smile at her. "I have no appetite. That's all. You have been so kind”. They took me in the night I walked out on Tristan. I didn't know where else to go, but I learned early on that the Luna is an extremely compassionate sort. She held me while I wept and blubbered. She passed no judgments on Tristan except to say that I had been right to leave him. But if that's the case, why do I hurt so badly ? Why do I sit in my bedchamber and stare out the window at the residence across the way, hoping for a glimpse of Tristan ? Is he well ? Does he miss me at all ? Sometimes I consider returning to him, but I want so much more than he can give me. I yearn for the essentials that can't be purchased: love,
Sold to the coldhearted beast 59: A pest from the past
*Tristan* I am standing at the window of my apartment at the club, watching people coming and going, trying not to remember how much they had fascinated Eve. I find it impossible not to think of her. Everything reminds me of her. As I walk through my residence, I inhale her fragrance. I can no longer bear being there, not even for a moment. Every room holds a memory of her. It's equally difficult being here, at my club. When I box with Mick, I think of Evie enduring my lessons in the ring. When I look out over the gaming floor, I see it through her eyes. When I go to my office, I regret not showing her the globe that Tristan had carved for me, not telling her that I was afraid to be grateful for it. If I truly care for something, it will be stripped away. The best recourse is not to care. Then I will be immune to hurt. So why am I now in so much blasted pain ? Because I adore her, dammit. That's the reason I am in such agony now, why I am not seeing after my club, why I don'
Sold to the coldhearted beast 58: Left behind
*Tristan*I press my back to the vibrating door. I didn’t need my key because it's no longer locked. I should be familiar with the room by now, but it still takes me off guard. All my clothing is gone. Every torn shirt, waistcoat, jacket. Every pair of trousers. Every scrap of remaining neckcloth. Every discarded bit of attire that once offended me, threatened to suffocate me. Gone.Eve had gathered them up and taken them to the poor.The bare mattress upon which I once slept when the thought of sheets or blankets would make me break out in a sweat is no longer visible. It's covered by violet velveteen. The recently hung draperies are drawn aside to let in the night. Not a speck of dust is to be seen. The wooden floor is polished to a fine sheen.The room smells of beeswax and polish. The room smells of her.She has done this. She has chased back the demons. She has returned to me the magic of touch. She has helped me conquer the madness.I stride over to the window and gaze out when e
