Tara’s POV
Life in a rural village in France was only marginally better than being stuck in a basement in Seattle. I was made to get up early every morning for minimum two hours of training, because Claude (whom I originally called EV) thought I would get a higher price tag if I looked trim and fit. I didn’t mind too much, because trim and fit might make escape easier.
The rest of the time was spent watching TV, reading, and learning proper dining etiquette. Apparently my table manners were abysmal. I tried to explain that the royal family in Seattle’s Emerald pack were very informal, but Claude did not think that excuse was good enough.
I was required to learn how to eat properly. Sit properly. Walk properly. And I needed confidence! Lots of confidence! He wanted me to look a
