Sold to the coldhearted beast

The man stuck in her thoughts

*Tristan*

Obviously, I have been drinking a bit more than I realized, but it doesn't matter now. The challenge has been spoken, and I never go back on my words.

Standing, I tug hard on my black brocade waistcoat that suddenly feels far too tight. “If any of you touch her, I shall happily separate you from the particular part that touched her. Littlefoot has assured us that she is pure. I don’t want her soiled by your sweaty hands or anything else. Have I made myself clear ?”

“But you were only here to watch, to make sure ….” Littlefoot cut off his sentence and steps nearer, lowering his voice.

“… To make sure I have the funds to cover my debt”.

“When have I ever confided my plans in you ?” I say in a low growl.

He looks slightly hopeful. “Then you’ll pay me the five hundred quid that Ekroth was willing to give ?”

“I will allow you to continue to breathe. We will call it even, shall we ?” I say flatly.

“But the idea of this evening was that she would go to the highest bidder”. He says desperately.

“What value do you place on your life ? Do you think anyone here can match it ?” I wait in silence for a heartbeat. “I thought not”.

I quickly swallow what remains of my Scotch before striding to the desk, puny alphas leaping out of my way. If I was not a stranger to laughter, I might have at least chuckled at their antics. I grab a scrap of paper, dip a pen in the inkwell, and scratch out the address of my residence. thrusting it into Littlefoot's hand, I turn and head toward the door. “My address. Have her there at four tomorrow. Good evening, gentlemen. As always, it’s been a pleasure to be in such esteemed company”.

I am in my carriage, traveling through the City streets, before it resonates within me exactly what I have done.

“Good Goddess”. I mutter, even though no one else is here to hear. What the devil had I been thinking ? Obviously, I hadn’t been thinking at all

I glare out the window at the fog-shrouded night. Me taking her in has nothing to do with the fact that she was in effect being abandoned, because she wasn’t. She was being given to someone to care for her. She wouldn’t go hungry, she wouldn’t be smacked around, she wouldn’t have to work until her fingers bled and the small of her back ached so hideously that she feared she might never be able to straighten. She would lie in silk on beds and fancy couches, and wait for a man to part her thighs. She would eat chocolates and plump her lips. She would run her tongue around those lips, and gaze at her patron through half-lowered lids.

And I am now her patron. Damnation.

I should have allowed Ekroth to have her. His fingers aren’t all that pudgy. I could call him in the morning, negotiate some terms, and let him take her.

But then I would appear to be a man who doesn’t know his own mind. Also the idea makes me feel like the scotch will come back up.

So I am stuck with her. For a while anyway.

Perhaps it won’t be so awful. She had never had a man. I could guide her toward pleasing me in the manner I require. She would have no other experience, so she would know nothing different, and therefore, she would not be disappointed.

The possibilities begin to have merit. I do not have to care about her. I do not want to care about her.

But I can damn well make use of her.

*Everly*

I have never had much of a temper. But Orley is testing my patience beyond all measure. In spite of my protests, he had dragged me up the stairs and locked me in her bedchamber again.

I had wanted to tell that Rafe guy that he was impossibly rude. Why would he say such a horrid thing ? Why would he deliberately attempt to make me feel as though she am worth nothing ?

Sitting at the window, I gaze out on the garden and wonder if the guests are still here. I even consider tearing off strips of my sheets and make a rope so I can climb out the window. I would march into the library, confront Rafe, and … say what exactly ?

That he is the most refreshingly honest man there ?

That is the weird thing here. The other men had been behaving so … oddly. Of course, having never attended any sort of formal … or informal for that matter … affair where alphas were attempting to impress a she-wolf, I am not quite certain how they should behave, but I had thought they would be more complimentary, more flirtatious, that they would seek to engage my mind. Instead, it seemed as though they expected me to compliment them, to shower them with praises, to make them feel good about themselves.

All except that Rafe guy. It was as though he couldn’t be bothered with me at all. Perhaps he wasn’t there looking for a wife. He had certainly made no effort to approach me. Maybe he was simply Orley’s friend, and he had been there for some other reason.

But if that is the case, why had I felt his eyes on me from the moment I had walked into the room ? It had unsettled me, knowing he was watching as I introduced myself to one man and then another. Was he judging me, considering me or intrigued by me ?

I can’t tell which. What I do know is that he is by far the handsomest devil I have ever laid my eyes on. His hair, a warm brown, is slightly to the long side, tousled and with some curl to it. His eyes hazel leaning towards the brown, with just a hint of green.

I had seen no softness in his features and no gentleness in his manners. I am actually rather glad I had not appealed to him. I do not want him sending me flowers or reading poetry to me or taking me on walks through the park.

Although if I am completely honest with myself, I am not certain that I want those things from any of the men I had met tonight. They had made me feel as though I was a prized mare they were contemplating purchasing rather than a woman that they wished to woo to the altar.

Perhaps that is how courtship begins. I feel so very uneducated in that regard. I have not attended a girls’ school, but have been tutored at home. My only friends had been my father and a few of the younger girls from the pack. I am so familiar with so little of the world beyond the walls of the residence. I know only that my father had gone to great lenghts to protect me from it, even as he had sought to prepare me for it with various lessons in etiquette and proper behavior. I understand everything in theory, and so little in practice. I do not want to blame him, but I do wish he had made sure I was settled before he died.

I suspect Orley will have me married to the first man who asks for my hand, rather than determining if he is the man who will make me the most happy.

But then happiness is relative. Being released from this room would bring a great deal of happiness, even if it involves marriage to a man I barely know.

With a sigh I place my elbow on the windowsill, rest my chin on my palm, and try to run through my mind the faces of all the other alphas I had met, but each one morphs into someone with dark hair and hazel eyes.