Valerie Marigold swept in, producing a notepad from her apron. “The engagement party has been canceled,” she explained. “The princess has fallen ill. That means there will be no cake to prepare. No three-course-meal as planned. However,” she went on, “the celebration is still in effect. We will continue with the hors d’oeuvres. You girls here, drop everything you’re doing and go bake some bread for finger sandwiches. You, cutting tomatoes—the Northerners request a platter of roasted vegetables be added to the spread. Cut some of those into quarters while you’re at it.” The entire kitchen seemed to let out a unified breath of relief. We had been short-handed, and still had dozens of dishes to produce in a matter of hours. The Northerners were insatiable people. They seemed to want every luxury in the book at this celebration: live music, fine eatery, liquor from foreign lands—even candles carved into artistic shapes and used as center pieces. I couldn’t imagine how gaudy and overwh

Valerie “You must be mistaken,” I tried to explain. “The Alpha only invited me to his chamber for a discussion. He had questions to ask me, and nothing more.” “Nothing more?” Alyssa gave a light snort and smiled at me. “There’s only one reason why a man would invite a woman to his room,” she said. “There’s no way you just talked. I saw the look on his face when I walked in. Something else was going on.” A heat climbed up my face. I opened my mouth to speak, but what could I possibly say? She was right. We had kissed. It felt like we had done far more than that. She took in a long breath and gazed out over the vast lake. “Xavier never seemed interested in women. Even before I met him, he was notorious for rejecting women. I’m almost certain he never invited women to his chambers.” “How do you know so much about his love life?” I asked. “My father,” Alyssa said, with another discomforted sigh. “He’s a bit of a snoop. He did a lot of background research on Xavier before arranging

Valerie We returned to the palace after the incident, and the nurses promptly delivered lush, clean towels, which Alyssa wrapped herself in like a blanket. Her father was awaiting us in her chambers when we returned. At first sight of the scowl on his face, I wanted to turn and run back out through the chamber doors. “Where on earth have you been?” he asked, emphasizing each and every word. “Haven’t I told you not to wander around here? This is not our home. You do not know what sort of crimes happen within these walls.” He paused only when he noticed her drenched hair, and the anger on his face turned a vibrant shade of red. “What have you done? It looks as if you’ve gone for a swim. Did you lie about your sickness?” Alyssa lowered her head. I expected her to blurt out a lie or fabricate a story on the spot—it only seemed to be her nature to manipulate, as she had tried to manipulate me—but Alyssa said nothing but, “I’m sorry.” “This is a level of impotence I never expected to se

Valerie I could feel his breath on my nape. His lips brushing the back of my neck. His fingers trailed up my arms, casting chills over my skin. Bile rose in my throat. My entire body seized up there, my back pressed against his chest. I wanted to thrash and claw, I wanted to escape him. But I was afraid to move. Afraid to breath. He leaned into my hair and inhaled, filling his lungs with my scent. “You smell like a virgin,” he said. Finally, adrenalin hit me. I struggled against him, screaming against his palm, trying to claw his hand from my mouth. But he was far stronger than me, and he muffled every sound I made. Then, suddenly, he crushed me back against his chest and gnarled lowly in my ear, “Stop your crying or I’ll rip you apart.” He was squeezing the air from me. It felt like every bone in my body was about to collapse under the strength of his embrace. I was going to die. This corridor was too dark. Too far from everything else. No one would hear my muffled cries. No

Valerie I dreamed of hands touching my skin. Of mouths on my neck, hot and hungry as they kissed the skin. I dreamed of fingers touching me in places I’d never been touched. Of my breath, hot and wanting, catching in my throat as pleasure prickled over my skin. There were three of them. Three men surrounding me—nothing but black silhouettes in my mind. They whispered filthy things into my ears, and ran their fingertips along the most ticklish parts of my body. I wanted them. All of them. And yet, something told me not to give in. That I shouldn’t do such a thing. “Wait,” I panted, trying to push the men away. Their chests were broad, their bodies powerful as they moved against mine. “Why would you want to escape us?” one of them replied, relish in his voice. “We belong to you,” said another. “Close your eyes,” whispered the third. Pleasure engulfed me like a flame catching tinder. My body burned under their touches, their kisses, their low chuckles and their filthy whispers.