Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Elle is the first guest in a long time to appreciate the beauty of my ballroom. She stands tall and brave with her shoulders back and her chin lifted. I would not know by her posture that she was blindfolded at all, she carries herself so proudly.
Her posture falters slightly as she breathes deep, her shoulders begin to round, but she straightens again. The faint scent of dinner pulls me from my thoughts.
She will not go hungry when she is within these walls. She will not go without pleasure or warmth. I can provide for her what no one else can. Luxury and protection. Surely that will be enough.
I approach her slowly, keeping my footsteps even and confident. The beast still slumbers inside me. It is only a matter of time before he wakes, reasserting his dominance, but for now I am in command as I cross the ballroom floor to Elle. Her breathing quickens as I get closer, but she controls herself, though she cannot stop her trembling completely. If I was not making an effort I might be trembling as well. That is how strong the pull between us is. That is how strong my desire for her is.
I take her by the hand the way I learned long ago, appropriate for escorting a lady across the floor. Her hand curls neatly into mine, though it is clear that Elle was not born into royalty. That does not matter to me. What matters to me is the heat between our palms and the brush of our fingers together. The soft silkiness of her skin affects me even more now that I have stood apart from her for several minutes. Every twitch of her fingers sends small shock waves through my being.
I need to bend my mouth to her neck to inhale her scent, but I sense that she would turn, putting her body against mine the way she did in the hall, and I might be lost to that sensation until the sun rose.
The beast stirs slightly, as if scenting the opportunity to claim her again, but he does not pursue it.
Elle walks when I put the slightest pressure on her hand, this time moving to my side instead of in front of me. She guides her footsteps so that her body is closer than it might have been, and we go out of the ballroom together.
My dining room is down a stretch of hallway. Elle’s footsteps are soft but not tentative as she moves, her slippers almost silent on the floor. Every breath I take is sweetened by her scent. I have to summon as much control as I can not to push her against the wall and guide my hand between her legs. I think, from the way Elle’s heart pounds and the rhythm of her breath, that she would melt underneath my touch.
Not yet. I will feed her first. Once I’ve satisfied her, surely, my offer will not be denied. Regardless of who I am. The fears scream in the back of my head, and I nearly cry out for silence. The crazed thoughts leave as quickly as they came as the magic surrounds us. Thankfully, Elle does not see my snarl. She is protected from every sordid thought I have.
The dining room I escort Elle to is a private one, though the table can seat twelve. Serving dishes cover the surface. Elle inhales the aroma of the food and lets out a small sound of anticipation. That sweet sound makes my cock twitch and yet again, I restrain myself. I guide her to the seat that will be at my right hand and take my own seat at the head of the table.
With a wave of my hand the covers of the dishes rise and float back into the kitchen through a door that holds itself open for them. Elle sits up straight, her hands in her lap, and I move my chair so I can more easily reach her.
Then it is time to keep my promise.
I pinch the finest morsel of meat, a slow roast of beef, between my fingers. “Open your mouth,” I tell her.
She does.
The table is laden with a spread that would rival a royal dinner, including roasted potatoes and seasoned vegetables grown in the garden, and I feed Elle small pieces of them, her tongue sliding over my fingers. She chews and swallows and opens her mouth obediently for more. The magic allows for everything thought, every wish to come true, and so when water fills the pitcher and pours itself into her glass, I offer it to her. A smirk plays at my lips as she thanks me. As if I knew. As if I’m her hero.
Time passes easily and I watch her intently. With every bite she takes, my eyes flick from the scar on her neck to her lush lips. I’m obsessed with her satisfaction. Before long, the plate of sweets, chocolate desserts and pastries, and fruits rattles slightly and I move onto it.