Wicked lessons with the rakish wolf

Back home

*Rosalind*

As I stride through the front door of my residence, I regain control; my heart no longer pounds ferociously or threatens to c***k a rib. Part of me is relieved to have escaped. Yet another part, one I rarely acknowledge, wishes I were still ensconced in the balcony's shadows, ensnared by a kiss.

Merrick emerges from the parlor, his brow deeply furrowed. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

I remove my wrap and pass it to him. "Find out what you can about the Alpha of Riverdale."

I've allowed him too much influence. To prevent a recurrence, I must learn all there is to know about him.

"Alpha? That's quite daring, even for you. He could have you hanged if he discovers your intentions." Merrick says.

"The key, then, is to ensure he never discovers them. Any issues tonight?" I ask.

"No." Merrick's face, weathered by hardship, contorts. "He seems content here. He's asleep now. Maybe this time we could stay."

"That's impossible." I head toward the stairs, Merrick following.

His voice hopeful. "There might be another way."

I whirl around, bumping into him. Stabilizing him by the shoulders, I prevent his fall. Once steady, he looks up at me, insisting, "Perhaps we could…"

"And what would you propose? How else could we maintain our lifestyle?" I ask.

"Perhaps we don't need as much." He suggest.

I shake my head. "But Benjamin deserves it. That's my responsibility."

"It's not your fault how your father treated him." He says softly.

Merrick hasn't seen what I have; he can't grasp the full impact of my father's cruelty. "Remember, Merrick, you're here by my favor, not to challenge me. Inform Sally of my return so she can help me prepare for bed." I continue upstairs, refusing to feel remorse for the life I've chosen or ponder its potential fallout. Life is about choices. I've made mine. Regrets are now a luxury I cannot afford, serving only as distractions.

In my bedchamber, I slip off my gloves and fling them onto the dressing table, then walk over to the window to peer out at the fog-enshrouded gardens. I haven't achieved everything I intended to tonight. My goal was to forge connections with she-wolves who would invite me to their gatherings, as visibility in high society breeds trust and offers of assistance. However, the Alpha's distractions derailed my agenda.

The searing kisses he bestowed upon me compelled me to leave the event early. It wasn't until halfway home that my thoughts cleared.

How can I plot and plan when my mind is in disarray? I've been kissed before, but never with such a sense of ownership, never with such consuming intensity. I'm frankly astonished that the balcony didn't burst into flames beneath us.

As the door opens, I turn with a welcoming smile. "Sally."

"Did the evening bring you enjoyment?" Merrick's wife inquires.

"This evening was for business, not pleasure." I step to the room's center, where a stool awaits, and pivot to face Sally as she approaches to undo the buttons and ribbons.

She smiles. "It seems you might blend the two."

"Doing so might risk losing focus on one in favor of the other." I say.

"And what if you lost sight of the work? When last did you simply have fun?" She asks.

Once my gown loosens, I step out of it. "Just last night, I finished an entire book before bed."

With a frown, Sally circles to collect the gown. "I mean fun with others."

I offer a smile. "I have a splendid time with you."

"Now you're being difficult." She mumbles.

"Indeed, I am. I'd rather not discuss it."

Freed from the rest of my undergarments and clothed in my nightdress, I settle on the bench before my dressing table. Ideally, my home would be mirrorless, for while appearance is vital to my public masquerade, it holds little value here.

In the privacy of my chamber, my reflection shows a she-wolf nearing thirty, without the prospect of a loving mate or adoring children… a she-wolf so profoundly alone that she barely suppresses her tears. I loathe these moments of vulnerability when the dreams I've lost push me to be rediscovered.

I have no right to complain, especially when others endure far more than I.

"You seem sad," Sally observes as she approaches and starts to brush my hair.

"Just weary. It's been a long evening." I mumble.

She gives me a small smile. "Merrick mentioned you were asking about an Alpha."

"We danced." My reflection captures my smile, which seems dreamy, like that of a young girl brimming with hope after her first dance. "He's quite charming."

And oh, so tempting.

"Was he good-looking?" Sally probes.

"Have you ever heard of an Alpha who isn't?" I counter.

She shrugs. "I've never met an Alpha."

A soft chuckle escapes me. "Yes, he's attractive. Sandy hair, blue eyes… with a certain haunted look. He's far from a joyful man."

"You've always had a knack for reading people." She says.

Out of necessity, I honed this skill beside my father… a man whose lessons I'd rather not boast of.

"Do you like him?" Sally inquires.

Do I? "I haven't gotten to know him well enough to decide."

"Is he agreeable?" She asks.

"He's intense. Very intense. He doesn't socialize much, though it's clear many are acquainted with him. I suspect he attends these events with a single purpose: to partake in whatever mischief he finds most appealing."

"And he sought to partake with you." Sally circles to arrange my braided hair over my shoulder. "But you kept him at a distance."

The statement from Sally is not a question but rather an assertion, and I'm aware that she would be disheartened if anything improper had occurred, such as a stolen kiss in the shadows. "Yielding to temptation would not serve my purpose."

"Were you tempted?" she asks.

I pivot on the bench to meet Sally's gaze at eye level. "No."

The ease with which the lie falls from my lips is slightly troubling. If I can deceive my dear friend with such a facility, might I be just as adept at self-deception?

"Thank you, Sally. I'll see you in the morning." I rise and make my way to a corner table, where I pour myself a modest measure of brandy, indulging in my nightly custom.

"You seem troubled," Sally remarks.

"Just fatigued, as I mentioned before." I offer a reassuring smile over my shoulder. "I'm quite alright. Good night."

I wait for Sally to depart before moving to the sitting area and nestling into the sofa's corner. I inhale the brandy's heady scent, then take a measured sip, appreciating its taste more profoundly than ever. It conjures thoughts of him. I allow myself to envision his lips pressed against mine once more.

And I endeavor not to dwell on the regret that I didn't leave with him.