All Chapters of Sold to the coldhearted beast: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

*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

*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

*Tristan* The table is too blasted long, but even with the great distance separating us, I could see the joy light her eyes when her gaze fell on the jewelry. I can only imagine how bright they had been when she had first been given them. She would have not expected them. She seems not to expect anything. Mistresses are supposed to be demanding, by the Goddess. She should be demanding things from me. She shouldn’t make me urge her to accept things; she shouldn’t make me want to stop off at a jeweler’s to find a set of stones that more accurately resembles her eye color. The sapphires are close, but a shade too blue, a little lacking in violet. Amethyst perhaps. No, that would not have enough blue. Pity I do not have the power to create stones. I shake off the thought. What is this mooning about ? My carriage comes to a halt in front of Rafe House, my oldest brother’s pack house. After getting out, I march up the steps. I have not been here in some time. Still, I know my brother

*Tristan* The skies are overcast. As the carriage rumbled along, I watch the shadows weave in and out, dance over and around her as she gazes out the window. And blast it all if I do not find myself envious of their ability to touch her so lightly. She has rubbed her wrist … the one I had held with my powerful grip … a couple of times now, and it is all I can do not to take her hand, peel off her glove, and press a kiss to where I had felt her pulse thrumming earlier while apologizing. I do not know why I reacted as I had. The door to my bedchamber is locked. She would have not been able to enter anyway. My hold had tightened with the talk about beds and her in them. I had imagined her there, sprawled over the sheets, her loosened hair spread out around her. How long is it ? The braid she had worn last night only hinted at its length. I had almost laughed when she had given me the daring look and said that it is to her advantage to displease me. When was the last time I had laughed

*Tristan* Leaving my carriage near the dressmaker’s, I stride with purpose down the street. I need a sweet, a nice, hard, sugary sweet. I can’t recall the last time I had such a craving. I want something to make me feel good instead of like a rotten bastard. Whatever had overcome me to pressure the dressmaker as he had? It was Eve, dammit all. The look of mortification and a wish for death that had crossed her face when she realized that an inconsequential shop owner had determined her purpose in my life … and disapproved of it. Who is this woman to disapprove of anything I do? I am providing Eve with a sanctuary. Yes, she has to pay a price for it, but then nothing in life comes for free. Not even freedom. It is the highest price of all. To make matters worse, I had fallen back on my heritage to get the respect I wanted for Eve. Beta Tristan Rafe. I have not referred to myself as beta since Stephan’s place was secure. I couldn’t be more disappointed in myself. I am my own man. I