Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Given the gasp that comes from behind me, she’s never seen anything like what I’ve just done. My lips pull in an asymmetric smile, but I resist sharing that with her.
I center and contain myself before turning to face her.
The antique carvings in the stone walls of my family’s crest are the first detail to come forward. The shadows and flames give the symbol of my heritage the pride it deserves. It’s been ages since I’ve lit the room, and the sight of the emblem makes me wish I hadn’t grown complacent with the dark. My large bed is draped with fine, gray silk fabrics, offering a canopy of shelter. The sheets and blankets themselves are a mix of grays and blacks woven together by the best seamstresses with the softest of materials. Several large pillows sit tall at the back of the bed. Although I’ve never thought much of it before, it’s a sight of masculinity and wealth and my only comfort apart from my brothers.
As the fire lights the antique furniture in the room, I focus on the small, brave woman at the head of my bed. Her lips are parted in awe as she watches the walls slowly light. Her cheeks are tear stained and her chest is flushed from her struggle. I take the moment to look at her shoulder. The wound isn’t as deep as I thought. She will need to be bathed, but the cut should heal well with a little touch of heat. I won’t need to call a healer. More concerning than the gash is the lack of fat on her body. The scant linen dress she wears is slashed from the whip, and her ribs and spine are easily made out. Anger threatens to consume me, and I resist once more, barely able to contain my dragon.
I will bathe her first and then she will eat. Everything else will be taken care of with time. Carefully and quickly, I round the bed and as I do, the fire cracks, stealing her attention and allowing me to get to her.
I wrap my hands around her waist, taking her attention from the fire and startling her.
“Let go of me!” She turns violently in my grasp and pushes away from me. Her efforts are futile. I ignore the agony her rejection causes. She knows not what she does. She knows nothing at all.
“Hush; there’s no need to yell at me. I have no intention to harm you.” With a trembling lip, she stops fighting and sticks her chin out. As if I cannot smell her fear. As if she could possibly control me. As if she has any authority whatsoever. She makes her demand. “Then let me go.”
I have to repress my chuckle at her defiant command. I do not take orders from anyone. She won’t be any exception.
“I’d rather not.” A quick sob erupts from her lips and her fists clench in response. She turns her face away from me as I lift her and take her to the bath. “I’d just like to keep you company until you are well.”
Even with the fear evident, she holds onto her anger, taking me by surprise.
“So I can be your whore.” Her words are hard and drip with disgust. Her small body is shaking with fear even though her voice is strong.
My blood heats with a touch of fear. I want desperately to breed with her, but I have no desire to make her feel as though she’s merely a toy to be used for my amusement. I hesitate, taking in this beautiful, defiant, yet beaten down woman, debating the best response. One that will let her know I’m attracted to her, that she would be my mate not a whore. But without her consent or desire to be with me, I struggle to find the correct words. I’ve never had a woman deny me, but this situation is a delicate matter.
“I do not want you to be a whore. Not for me or anyone else here.” Doubt is etched into her beautiful eyes. But also, a hint of hope.
“You will come with me,” I tell her firmly as I snatch her up again, holding her closely so she cannot fight. This time, she doesn’t try to push me away.
I gently place her on the wooden bench and turn the tap to fill the bath. I kneel next to her, and I place my hand under the flowing hot water, reveling in the feel. I look at her pale, thin skin and wonder if the water would be too hot. I’ve never cared for another, let alone a human. I take her small hand in mine and grip it tightly as she tries to pull away. I give her a stern look, but her insolence is all I get in return.