Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 140412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
“Nonsense, puppy,” father says placidly, his eyes scanning his iPad the way he used to ignore us for the newspaper. “You could never make us look bad.”
Mother chokes on her coffee and tries to pass it off as a gently teasing laugh. “Well. There was that one teensy little time.”
The time I invoked my right to think for myself, to not accept the transformation as my fate. The time I dared put myself before the Dixon name.
“But that’s all in the past. You’re home now.” Mother’s smile is a warning. “And Ashton has been asking about you.”
My stomach curdles in a way that has nothing to do with the first-class salmon. “Oh?”
“He’s never given up on you,” she goes on with a sigh. “Very romantic, if you ask me.”
Or pathetic, if she asked me, but she didn’t. I keep it to myself. There’s nothing romantic about the idea of returning to my old life, my old fate, delayed by five years. I assumed that by rejecting the transformation, I effectively rejected Ashton Daniels.
“I thought he would have found a mate by now.” Hoped. I hoped he had found a mate by now. But if he didn’t…
“No. He’s never renounced his claim on you, even after your little tantrum.”
“It wasn’t a tantrum, it was—” I stop myself, force another smile, and subdue my sigh of frustration. “I just hoped he would have moved on and found happiness, rather than waiting around for me.”
“I suppose that’s guilt you’ll simply have to live with.” Mother’s words pointedly imply that my former fiancé isn’t the only person I should feel badly about inconveniencing. “It’s possible he’s forgiven you.”
“And it’s possible he hasn’t, and he’ll mention that tonight, in front of everyone,” Father adds helpfully.
Mother nods. “A bridge you’ll need to cross when we come to it, Bailey. You publicly humiliated the poor man.”
He was a poor boy, then, and at the time, I did feel terrible about invoking the right. But he had a choice. He could have invoked the right himself and come with me, if he really wanted to be together.
Thankfully, he didn’t.
“And if he decides to humiliate me in return with a public rejection tonight, I can accept that.” Besides, ending our engagement is the least he can do for both of us.
“He wouldn’t dare,” Mother reassures me. “The Fealty Rite is too important to risk making a scene.”
Another warning. I’m not to fuck anything up for her, tonight. I already destroyed her carefully cultivated image in front of the pack.
Hudson, the thrall Mother and Father hired as our butler right before I left for London, enters, pushing a cart bearing two trays covered by silver domes.
It’s a myth that werewolves can’t touch silver.
Mother sits back as he places the plate in front of her and lifts the lid. A human heart, glistening with congealed blood, rests on a bed of lettuce. Mother gasps in delight and softly claps her hands in appreciation. “Bravo, Hudson. I don’t know where you keep finding these perfect little morsels.”
“A trade secret, ma’am.” He retrieves the other platter and sets it in front of father, lifting the dome to reveal a nearly identical meal. Father mutters a thank you, and both my parents take up their silverware and tuck in, traditional breakfasts forgotten.
It’s a sight I’ve seen hundreds of times, before every religious ceremony and full moon over the course of my entire life. But after five years living among the humans, I view the organs a bit more personally.
As in, they were once people.
Either I hide my disgust well or my mother ignores it. She cuts a slice from the heart in front of her and nods toward my plate. “Well. Eat up. We have a busy day.”
I choke my down croissant. My dread at the thought of the ball, of seeing Ashton again? Much harder to swallow.
CHAPTER 2
Toronto has no shortage of impressive houses, but Aconitum Hall is in a class of its own. Built long before the skyscrapers and urban planning, the city has crept up to the mansion’s tower walls and tiered gardens, preserving it as a fairytale castle out of time. And since the very first stone was set into the foundation, it’s been the traditional home of our pack leader.
It’s Buckingham Palace but packed full of werewolves.
But it doesn’t look much like the Queen’s house. Aconitum Hall was built in early gothic revival style, which I know only from taking the tour more than once on school trips. It could easily be mistaken for a cathedral at first glance. There are spires on some of the conical tower roofs and a ton of gargoyles. Two of them leer down at us through the sunroof of the car as we pull beneath the porte cochere.
“First, we’re received by the king. When everyone has arrived, dinner will be served,” Mother repeats for me, as if I somehow forgot on the drive. “After that, dancing and socializing. Make sure you speak to at least one member of each family.”