*Evangeline*
“It’s so monstrously difficult to decide,” the Luna of Riverdale says. “I don’t know which one would be best.”
Looking across the small table in her garden, she catches me in the midst of an embarrassing yawn, not that the Luna seems to notice. She pushes the selections across the table. “Which do you favor?”
“Wicky, you’re selecting parchment for invitations,” I tell her. “The lycan queen will not fall because of your decision. Which one do you like best?”
Wicky gnaws on her lower lip. “I don’t know. I think I like the look of the cream, but it’s more expensive. Is it worth it?”
“If it pleases you, then it’s worth the extra expense.” I say.
“It’s not I who has to be pleased, it’s my husband. The stationer is expecting me this afternoon. Will you come with me to make sure I do the invitations properly?”
Wicky has been my dearest friend since we were small girls. It bothers me immeasurably to see Wicky’s confidence waning. “You’ve given balls before. You know how to properly order invitations.”
“But Riverdale is always disappointed in some aspect of the affair. I want everything to be perfect.”
I can’t believe there are many men in Blackrock city who truly give a fig about ball preparations. It’s Wicky’s misfortune that she married one of them. Always striving for perfection, he makes her life miserable and takes the joy out of every task.
“There’s no such thing as perfection, and even if there were, I think it’d be rather boring. Still, let’s go with the cream color,” I say. “I think it looks a bit more elegant, and I’ll purchase the invitations.”
“That’s not necessary.”
I smile at her, “It’s the least I can do. You’re letting me host the ball with you, at your lovely home, since Father’s ill and it wouldn’t be proper to have a ball in mine. So I will see to the invitations.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.” She says.
“I don’t mind at all.” I promise.
Wicky releases a deep breath. “Thank you. That’s one less thing to worry about.”
“I’ll stop by the stationers on my way home.”
“You’re such a dear.”
I yawn again. “Sorry.”
“I don’t recall there being any balls last night, and yet since the moment you arrived, I have had the distinct impression you were out rather late,” Wicky says.
“I simply didn’t sleep well.”
“Is it your father? Has his condition worsened?” She ask with worry.
It should have been my father keeping me from sleep. It has been almost a year since his last bout with apoplexy left him a bed-ridden invalid. Now he is little more than a shell of a man. I spend my afternoons and often my evenings reading to him, trying to bring him what comfort I can. I have hired nurses to see after him when I can’t be there because I know he’d feel guilty if he thought I was devoting all my time to him. I’m young. He would want me to enjoy life. But of late, that has been very difficult to accomplish.
“No, Father seems to be the same, although it’s difficult to tell since he can’t speak.”
“What’s pressing on your mind then?” She asks.
A certain irritating Alpha. Somehow he has managed to cast some sort of spell over my body to make it writhe unsatisfied for the remainder of the night, not that there has been much remaining after I finally went to bed. What sort of debauchery has he been engaged in to return home so late? And to immediately assume that a she-wolf such as I am there for carnal purposes? Only the worst of blackguards would view she-wolves in such a way. I’m not a trollop. I’m chaste and pure and proper. Although after tasting his kiss, I realize my life is rather dull. Still, his actions have resulted in my finally comprehending why high born she-wolves are discouraged from experiencing such intimacies until they are wed. Do all men hold such power over she-wolves… to make them burn with desire? Or is it only those like Claybourne, who loiter at the gates of hell?
“Wicky, you’ve been married for five years now.”
She attracted the Alpha of Riverdale’s attention our very first mating Season and married him at Christmas that same year.
Wicky furrows her brow. “Is that a question?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s an observation that I felt compelled to make before asking: Does he kiss you?”
“That’s an odd question,” Wicky replies.
“I’m a maiden and I have no mother to ask about the questions that cause me curiosity, and so I must turn to my married friend for the answers. Does he kiss you?” I ask again.
Wicky sips her tea as though mulling over her answer. “On occasion.”
“Does it leave you wanting?”
“Wanting what?” She asks.
I almost laugh. If I have to explain it, well, then he isn’t kissing as Claybourne did. But Riverdale was born a gentleman, while Claybourne is little more than a rogue dressed in Alpha’s clothing.
I watch as Wicky leans forward ever so slightly to pour us more tea. It’s ironic that such beauty as found in this garden surrounds a house where incredible ugliness lurks. Her movements explain so much about her unnecessary worry over the invitations. “He’s beaten you again, hasn’t he, Wicky?”
“Don’t be silly.”
Reaching out, I place my hand over hers, stilling her actions. “I see how gingerly you move… as though the smallest of movements causes you the greatest of pain. You can confide in me. I won’t tell a soul. You know that.”
Tears well in Wicky’s expressive eyes. “He came home late last night in a fit of temper. I’m not sure what I did wrong…”
“I doubt you did anything wrong, and even if you did, he has no right to strike you.” I huff.
“The law disagrees.” She mumbles.
I feel like screaming, but simply says, “Damn the law.”
Gasping, Wicky widens her eyes. “Evangeline, your language.”
“You chastise me for my language and yet I wager you take his beatings in silence.”
“I’m his mate, his property. The law gives him leave to do with me as he pleases, even force his attentions on me when I might not want them. A day will come when you will learn the truth of marriage.” She sighs.
“I doubt I shall ever marry. But if I should, I’ll not give a man control over me.”
She shakes her head, “You have only managed to escape marriage because your father is infirmed and your brother traipses over the continents. Once he returns and settles into his responsibilities, including those toward you, everything will change.”
No, it wouldn’t. I’m stronger than Wicky. Although I have to readily admit I have grown more independent after Sterling left. My father had begun to teach me things, for fear that my wanderlust brother might not return from his travels. Since my father fell ill, I have taken it upon myself to step into his shoes as much as possible. I know my forceful nature no doubt intimidates some and is whispered about by others. But I’ll not let my father’s legacy fall into decay or disarray.
“I’m all of two and twenty, Wicky, and no man has indicated an interest in having me as a mate.”
“It’s because of the way the Devil Alpha looked at you that night as though he was singling you out… and the way you peered back. You should have lowered your gaze as any decent she-wolf would. Now you are tainted by him.” She mumbles.
I force myself to laugh. If Wicky knew that I had done a good deal more than look at him recently, had actually welcomed his kiss, she’d no doubt expire on the spot.
“He was striving to intimidate. I’m not one to be intimidated. It seemed the perfect opportunity to demonstrate that part of my character,” I say.
“What you demonstrated was that you are willful. No Alpha wants a willful mate.”
“Then no man shall have me, for I’ll not change to please him.” I say, straightening my back.
She sighs, “When you love a man, you will do anything to gain his favor.”
“Even allow him to beat you?” I ask.
Wicky flinches, and while I regret the harshness of my words, I don’t know how else to make my dear friend listen… for her own good. “Leave him, Wicky. Come with me. We will go to my father’s house in the country. You’ll find sanctuary there.”
“Do you have any idea how furious my mate would be? He would find me, Evangeline, and he would kill me for such blatant a betrayal. I have no doubt. He is a proud man, and when his pride is threatened…”
“He strikes out at you because he hasn’t the courage to face his own weaknesses.” I point out.
She bites her lip, “You think so poorly of him.”
“Why should I think otherwise? I see what he does to you. You strive to hide it, but I fear a day will come when it can’t be hidden.” I tell her.
“Not five minutes ago, you were asking if he kissed me. He does and sometimes it’s very lovely.” She mumbles.
“Lovely? No. A kiss should be all-consuming, make your knees weaken, your heart pound…” My voice trails off as I shake my head. I’m getting carried away, remembering Claybourne’s kiss.
She blinks, “Evangeline, what have you done?”
“Nothing.” I say so low it is almost a whisper.
“You’re acting most peculiar and your description… Have you had a dalliance?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I huff.
She blinks again, “Then why this sudden interest in kisses?”
“I’m simply trying to determine why you put up with all that you do. What does he give you that makes any of it worth it?” I ask.
“It is a Luna’s place to stand by her Alpha.”
I squeeze Wicky’s hand. “Wicky, I’m not your family who insists you be the good daughter and the good mate. It breaks my heart to see you suffer like this.”
Tears roll from Wicky’s eyes. “Oh, Evangeline, sometimes he terrifies me so. They say his first Luna was clumsy and fell down the stairs. And his second slipped in the bedchamber and banged her head so hard on the floor that it killed her. I knew these tales, but I didn’t doubt the veracity of them, not until after I was wed. He is so charming when he is not angry. Oh, but when he is displeased, he is most frightening.”
“Then leave him.” I beg.
“I can’t!” she grinds out. “The law will not protect me. He can claim that I abandoned him and the law will give him my son. My family will be mortified and not stand beside me, and my husband, dear Goddess, Evangeline, the fury he will exhibit will pale in comparison to anything he has revealed before. I know it as surely as I know that our tea has grown cold. It will be miserable for everyone. It’s best if I simply accept my fate and strive to appease him in all matters.”
I release Wicky’s hand and lean back. “Oh, Wicky, I hate what he has done to you. The physical abuse is bad enough, but what he has done to ruin the lovely woman who resided inside you… I shall never forgive him for that.”
Grimacing, Wicky reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I know how headstrong you can be. You must never confront him about this matter, you must never let on that you know. If he feels threatened, Evangeline, dear Goddess, save us both.”
“He will never know from me how much I despise him.”
Wicky seems to physically relax, her death-grip on my hand easing. “Can we change the subject now? It serves to only burden my heart further to know that I cause you such worry.”
“Don’t be concerned with my feelings, Wicky. I love you. No matter what happens, that will not change.” I promise her.
“Mummy!”
A small boy of four races across the garden, leaving his nanny behind. He slams into Wicky. Gasping, she pales considerably. “Darling, you mustn’t jostle Mummy so.”
The boy looks wounded at the sharp reprimand. I realize that Wicky is hurt much worse than she is letting on. She never scolds her child. Never.
“Ethan, come see Auntie Evangeline,” I say. “My lap is in need of a child.”
He rushes over and I pull him close. I wonder how long before his father takes his frustrations out on him.