Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Diligent, she’d take his tray, keep her eyes on the food, and relax over time into playful conversation. He was a complete goof, purposefully goading her into laughter at every chance.
Nothing like Esin with his unsettling stares or Uriel’s demand for obedience. Simin never demanded anything, though he did ask for much.
First, he’d asked her to take the tray straight from his hands so he wouldn’t drop the ugly fur hanging over his arm. They had met a handful of days at that point, and he had tried nothing untoward beyond a few bawdy jokes that were funny enough to earn a stifled snort. But to come close enough to the line with him standing right there… It had taken him a good few minutes to coax her to reach out her hands just to take the tray. When she’d done it, she yanked it back, almost tripping on her feet to step out of his reach, and spilled a canister of water all over the flowers and sparkly rocks sprinkled around the dishes.
To say she’d felt incredibly foolish was an understatement. And Simin? He’d looked flat out alarmed. “I wasn’t going to try to grab you.”
She’d sat down on her rump, plopped the tray on the floor, and put her head in her hands. It wasn’t tears that came; it was a feeling of failure.
Taking himself several hasty steps back, the Alpha asked, “Are you okay? Should I leave?”
Even Etaine, who always stood as their translator, broke protocol and stepped forward. “Give yourself a moment, Morgaine. Take a deep breath.”
Unable to lift her head from her hands, rubbing at her scalp as if that might stop this fugitive panic and make her normal again, Morgaine whispered, “I’ve ruined his food.”
The woman teased, “It probably tasted terrible to begin with.”
A slight chuckle and the tightness in her chest began to ease. “He must think I’m a complete lunatic.”
“Does it matter what he thinks?”
Yes. It did matter. He’d been polite, brought her food every day that he had made himself, and she had grabbed at it like an ungrateful crazy person. It mattered because he had not been trying to trick her. He had been trying to share.
Simin was not Esin. Nor was he Uriel. He was the man the others had given her to.
Her head felt as if it weighed more than a boulder, but Morgaine lifted her chin so she might at least look at the person she had offended. “I’m sorry I spoiled your effort.”
Etaine translated and the man shook his head. “I should not have pressed you to take the tray.” Holding out the fur slung over his arm, the same fur he had used to cover her with when he’d taken her into his possession, Simin said, “I thought you might want something more comfortable to sit on than the floor.”
Uncurling her legs, forcing herself to stand, Morgaine approached the golden line and held out trembling hands. Unable to make herself speak, she swallowed, felt the blood drain from her face, and waited.
When the Alpha approached to give it to her, he did so slowly, laying the fur across her arms and backing off without so much as a single touch on her skin.
It was softer than she remembered, pliable and silken. But just as ugly. Hideous even.
She hadn’t been able to eat that day, nor had she been capable of much conversation, but they had sat across from one another in easy silence. Every night since, she’d slept wrapped in that animal pelt, and every afternoon, she brought it to their meetings to sit upon.
And every damn day since, she made herself step forward and take the tray from him. Though it had taken at least a week before she’d been able to meet his eyes while doing it.
The smile he had given her... it put a little flip in her belly.
She’d even forgotten to back away once she’d had it in her hand. Morgaine just stood there, staring up at him.
Way up. He was extremely tall. Many times larger than her. And smiling as if he was the happiest man in the world just to stand there and hand her a tray.
She had not noticed how loud he purred until it saturated sweet words. “You look lovely today.”
Heavily accented but recognizable, he’d complimented her in her language. Morgaine had blushed bright red as if this were a courting man outside her cottage bearing flowers and a gift of smoked sweet meat. “Thank you.”
Then came the teasing “Aren’t you going to tell me I look pretty too?”
Giggling, giggling, Morgaine stepped back, tray secure in her hands, and went to her fur. “If you’re trying to be pretty, I’ll gladly sew you a dress. I’m not sure how you keep warm as it is.”
“I would gladly have you keep me warm, any way you choose.”