Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Not that she believed in magic—or religion. As a scientist she only believed the evidence of her own eyes. But it would be fascinating to find out the physical and physiological mechanisms behind the way they Shifted…though of course all that would have to wait until she could find the right dress to wear to this stupid meeting tonight.
“Do you not like any of the finery in the closet?” Lynx asked, since she hadn’t answered him before. “It all looks lovely to me.”
“Yes, but it’s out of date,” Miri explained. “I was hoping that Aunt Raz would have something more recent, but it looks like she gave up on buying herself new clothes some time ago.” She sighed sadly. “If I go to the Leadership Meeting in one of these, I’ll get laughed out of the building—even with you two as my bodyslaves.”
“Should we go shopping then?” Lynx suggested helpfully.
“I guess so…but I really hate to.” Miri made a face. “We’ll have to get the hovercoach out and fly to the Fashion District and then I’ll have to meet with the designers and pretend that I love the outlandish outfits they design and beg them to ‘dress’ me and…” She ran her hands through her curls. “And it’s just a whole big thing. Most Mistresses love it but I can’t stand all the groveling and flattery you have to go through just to get a single designer outfit that the other Mistresses won’t laugh at!”
“It sounds like a fucking shit-show,” Saxon growled. He was lounging on the pink, padded chaise in the center of the wardrobe area, eyeing Miri lazily as she paced up and down the racks of colorful clothing.
“Yes, but I guess I’ll have to go through it if I’m going to have anything decent to wear tonight,” Miri said mournfully.
“Couldn’t you get some of the designers to come here?” Lynx asked. “I mean, you are the Ruling Member of the Sacred Seven. Surely it would be an honor for one of them to ‘dress’ you.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Miri paced the length of the wardrobe, frowning at all the out-of-style fashions. “But that probably wouldn’t work—I have a reputation for being unfashionable. I doubt any of the designers would want me to be seen in their gowns. They wouldn’t—”
Just then the door-gong sounded, making all three of them jump.
“Fucking Hell!” Saxon snarled, sitting up with a thump of his heavy black boots on the pink carpeted floor. “If it’s those goons from that Mistress Bloodmuch again I’m gonna rip their fucking heads off and piss down their necks!”
“Go see who it is, would you, Lynx?” Miri asked the Felinus Shifter.
Aunt Raz had let all her servants go, meaning that the three of them were all alone in the huge penthouse suite at the top of the tower Miri had inherited. She had a feeling that Lynx would be more diplomatic when it came to answering the door than his Bond-Brother.
“With pleasure, my Lady,” Lynx purred. Shooting Saxon a reproving look, he left the wardrobe area and headed for the front entrance.
Miri expected him to politely get rid of whoever it was, so she was surprised when he came back a few minutes later with several people in tow—one of them being Mistress Hottalot. As usual, the flamboyant Mistress was wearing all pink in varying shades—even her eyelashes and eyebrows were bright pink.
“Miri, darling—here you are! It’s so good to see you back where you belong!” she exclaimed, coming to take Miri by the shoulders and air-kiss her on each cheek.
“I don’t know if I’d say I belong here, but here I am,” Miri said, trying to sound cheerful.
“And still wearing that awful old dress from three seasons ago, I see!” Mistress Hottalot shook her head reprovingly as she looked at the bedraggled green and silver lace gown.
“I just got here less than a solar hour ago,” Miri protested. “I’ve been looking in Aunt Raz’s closet for something to wear tonight, but, well…” She gestured to the racks and racks of outdated clothing.
“My goodness, you can’t expect to find something in here!” Mistress Hottalot’s eyes widened in horror. “You know I loved your Aunt—she was my dearest friend. But she was never what one could call a fashionista if you know what I mean.”
“But then what am I supposed to do?” Miri threw up her hands. “Go down to the Fashion District and beg one of the designers to dress me?” Which was exactly what she’d decided she would have to do—although she really didn’t want to.
But Mistress Hottalot surprised her.
“No need, my dear!” she said brightly. “For I have brought one of the brightest stars in the District to you. Meet Lord Fancipants and his brother, Mr. Jobus.”
The person who had been hidden behind Mistress Hottalot’s broad pink gown stepped forward and nodded at Miri—with both his heads.