*Everly* Late the following afternoon, freed from my lovely prison, I can’t recall a single time where I have ridden in a carriage with Orley. It is odd to have him sitting across from me, staring out the window at the darkening skies. It will no doubt be raining by nightfall. The air feels heavy and damp, as though it is simply waiting to unburden itself. I don’t even know where we are going, although I recognize the area as we have not yet traveled far from our home. When he had come to my room and commanded me to get ready for a carriage ride, I had almost told him to go to the devil. He had left me to worry all night, wondering if any of the alphas had hinted about an interest in me. But I had been too desperate to leave the house to risk upsetting him by revealing that I am angry with him for his behavior and lack of regard for my feelings. So I had simply donned a black walking dress, matching pelisse, and hat. I hate appearing so docile as it gives the impression that I a
*Raphael*I am standing in the open doorway that leads into my brother’s office at the gambling hell. I can’t recall ever seeing the door closed. At his desk, my brother is bent diligently over his ledgers, his dark head bent in concentration, just as he had been the first time that I had seen him after twelve long years of separation. Tristan’s giant of a man had been waiting at the abbey ruins and he had brought me here, to this very doorway. My grip tightens on the large package I am holding, I shift my gaze to the shelves on the far wall where Tristan keeps his assemblage of assorted globes. He had once told me that he collects them because they give him hope of there being a place better than where he is. I am saddened to see that my brother has acquired a new one. After Tristan had helped me right a wrong I had stupidly done to Anne before she became my wife … when I had no expectation of her ever becoming my wife … I had thought we might be on our way to closing this rift betw
*Tristan* I had never expected to be glad to have a visit from my brother, but for a few moments I had been spared thoughts of miss Everly. She has been haunting me all day, and I know that as of twenty-two minutes ago … if Littlefoot is punctual at all … she has arrived at my residence. Laurence will show her to her bedchamber, introduce her to the maid … Lila … who will see to dressing her, fixing her hair, and whatever else ladies’ maids do. Servants will assist in unpacking her things. They would see that she is settled and comfortable as she waits for my arrival. Spinning the globe, I suddenly wish I was somewhere else … someone else. If my brothers ever learn the truth about the sort of man I truly am, they would want little to do with me. I shove back the rancid thoughts. Mick, my main man, steps through the doorway. His slender physique hides a well-toned body that often gives me a good going over when we are sparring in the boxing room hidden away downstairs. “I though
*Everly* I run. And run. And run. My wolf's legs are churning, my chest aching as I fight for breath, the tears blurring my vision. The rain pelts me, seeping through my fur. It is lies. It is all lies. Orley wouldn’t be so cruel. In spite of the fact that he had never given me reason to think that he likes me overly much, he is innocent in this debacle. He had not known what that horrid Tristan Rafe had assumed, had planned. When I explain to Orley what the man had said, what he expects of me, Orley will call him out. He will surely insist upon pistols at dawn. In honor of his father, he will protect my reputation. He will not allow me to be completely ruined. Although he had never given me cause to believe that he would champion me, he is enough of a gentleman that he will not stand by while some bastard takes advantage of me. All I have to do is to get home. Thank God it isn’t that far. I remember the way. One street, and then another and another, and I will be there. The few
*Tristan* Hell and damnation! As soon as I am in my bedchamber with the door slammed behind me, I begin tearing at my wet clothes before they suffocate me. Buttons go flying, brocade and linen are ripped. I am fighting to draw in breath, I have been ever since I had made the awful decision to carry the woman back to my residence. I knew it was a mistake the moment she wound her arms about my neck and clung painstakingly to me. I couldn’t very well drop her at that point, no matter how desperately I had wanted to be rid of her cloying hold. So I had urged myself on with a mantra: One more step, one more step. Almost there. Knowing all the while that I am lying to myself, that I had a good distance to travel. Why the devil hadn’t I taken the time to have my carriage brought round ? I was almost certain where she was going. Instead, like a blundering idiot, I rushed out into the rain, changed into my Wolf and charged after her to ensure that she reached her destination without being
*Everly* The room is warm, the fire crackling, and yet sitting in front of the fireplace, I feel as though I am carved from ice. My own clothes are a wet mess, so I am wearing one of the maids’ nightdresses and dressing gowns. I had soaked in a tub of hot water for what had seemed like hours. My hair is braided. I curl one bare foot over the other. I should strive to determine what I am to do about this unfortunate circumstance, but I seem incapable of managing little more than staring at the yellow and orange flames. Orley’s strange behavior in the carriage, his cryptic words … I was quite amazed that he had been able to meet and hold my gaze at least once. If I sought to destroy the very fabric of his being, I would not be able to face him. A mistress, not a wife. That is what I am to become, what he expects for my future, what he sought to give me. Not love, not a family, not a place in Society. It is not to be tolerated. What are my options? Literally, all I possess is the clo
*Everly* My stomach lurches at the truth of his words. my father had protected me from the gossip and rumors, and in doing so, he had given me false expectations. I thought I would marry a ranked wolf, an Alpha or beta, and now I am discovering I am not worthy of the lowest omega. Studying this man, I see no kindness in his features, no compassion, no sympathy. Yet he had come after me, carrying me through the rain. Because he thought he owned me, or is it because as he had said, he knows what it is to be where I am? But how could that be when he is the third son of a very high ranking Alpha? “I’ll have your answer now,” He says. “You won’t even allow me the kindness of sleeping on it?” I ask. He shrugs. “I told you last night that I am not kind.” But I can see that he is strong, implacable, confident. If I could learn from him to be the same, perhaps no one would ever be able to take advantage of me again. It makes my stomach churn uncomfortably to realize that all the men las
*Tristan* Kissing her had been a colossal error in judgment. Her lips are like silk. Her mouth, smoky with my Scotch, had tasted particularly inviting. Her sighs are as low and throaty as her voice. The sounds had sent desire shooting through me. As a general rule I do not misjudge my actions, but from the moment she had walked into my life, I have been having a time of it when it comes to rational decisions. I had claimed her for my mistress. I had trotted after her into the rain like a misbegotten fool. I had carried her home, knowing the torment that would entail. I had promised to give her time instead of sinking into her molten heat tonight as I so desperately wanted. I had kissed her. And now I am heading to Littlefoot’s. At least this time I had the good sense to have the carriage brought round, it just looks better to arrive in style, than drenched. I tug on my waistcoat. I hate that I have to display myself fully dressed in order to be taken seriously. Clothing alwa
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
*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
*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
*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".
*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
*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
*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,
*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'
*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