A rumble rolled through his body. To be king, to truly claim her, you must let go of the longing to be human. Embrace the wolven instinct.
No. He wouldn’t give up. He closed his eyes for a long blink. Phillipa greeted him there, like she often did. But this time, he was wolven, and he was about to feast on the sweet flesh between her thighs…
When he opened his eyes, he found the countess and master watching him, but they didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t apologize. After all, they’d asked him to embrace his monstrous side.
As the other courses came out, he didn’t even try to use the utensils. He hungrily ate his fill of game and roasted vegetables, his compliments to the chef, with little room for conversation.
“My, what a good appetite,” Master Bow said.
“Hungry.”
“We’ll work on the utensil use in the next few days, but you wouldn’t be the first monster not to use them. We do try to teach you so it’s easier on the ladies.” He rose from the table. “What was your favorite dance with Phillipa?”
“Waltz.” He’d loved how daring she was, how she hadn’t been afraid to participate, even when those standing on the sidelines whispered.
Master Bow raised his eyebrows. The waltz was a scandalous dance, usually only performed at private house parties.
“You will be pleased to learn that we love waltzes at Broadstone Hall. I hope you won’t be scandalized by practicing it with me.”
“No.” Soon he’d be asleep in that big, comfortable bed, with the fire burning, cock in hand, dreaming about dancing with Phillipa. If he inhaled deeply enough, he’d be able to smell the vanilla on her skin.
And this time, he might not even be human in the dream. His beast was ready for her. But would she be ready for the Wolven King?
Chapter Four
Phillipa
A satisfied smile spread across Phillipa’s face every time the arrow sliced through the center of the bullseye, which was every time she shot it from her bow. She hadn’t practiced in a while, which was a shame, because she delighted in picturing how the arrow would pierce the Wolven King’s skin—
Fur?
Would he dress like a noble? Did he wear any clothing at all? Margaret had found her in the garden before Ainslee had a chance to answer her questions about the Wolven King. And she had so many. What was his body like? Was he more man than beast?
She drew back her bow, imagining the look on his face when he realized he’d been bested by a human. The muscles between her legs pulsed in response. She squeezed her thighs together, hoping none of the other ladies noticed what was happening. But all she could think of was the Wolven King. How he’d react to the scent of her arousal. What it would be like to have him touch her…
No, she could not be so distracted by the dreadful wolven when it was her mission to get revenge for her woodland friends. The wolven would count on the fae not being able to avenge their own suffering but he would not expect her to be willing to do it for them.
For this attack to be successful, the element of surprise would be paramount.
Ainslee landed on the end of her next arrow. “What are you doing out here? It’s time to head to the Monsters Ball!”
“Practicing my aim. And you need to be careful.” Phillipa whispered as she lowered the bow. She’d been caught many times talking to her friend, but none of her family claimed to have ever seen the fae. “My sister has company, and they’re walking on the grounds.”
“I’m coming to the Ball with you.” Ainslee fluttered in front of her. “I couldn’t help but tell the elders about the invite and your plan, and they insist it’s too dangerous for you to proceed alone. Without magic, anyway. They’re not comfortable with me going either, but they’ve taught me some new spells and seem satisfied that will be sufficient to keep you safe.”
Phillipa raised a brow, amused by her friend’s exuberance. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re coming?”
Her little cheeks flushed. Today she was in her full pink, purple, shiny glory. “If you go without me, you’ll be fixated on the infuriating the Wolven King and miss all the good stuff. I just want to see the castle! Hear the music. I swear I’ll stay in your room, no one will see me! I promise. I can help you get ready, and make sure you have all the stones you need in the proper placements for the utmost protection.”
“Fine. You may come.” Phillipa laughed. There was no talking the fae out of anything once she set her mind to it. It would be a relief to have a friend there. Margaret would be going with her, but she wouldn’t be able to talk to her about the Ball like she would with Ainslee.
The only reason Phillipa was excited about the Ball was to gather information on the Wolven King. Would she actually be able to carry through her mission of killing the beast? What would happen if she did?
She’d always imagined the encounter taking place deep in the woods, with very few, if any, witnesses. She’d take a trophy from her victory and present it to the fae, so they’d know they’d never be tormented by the beast again.
Sometimes, the image excited her. But other times, it saddened her. She couldn’t let herself have compassion for a wolven who drained the fae of their magic to the point it made their little hearts stop beating.
No, she had to focus on her mission. What it would be like to step into bête monde society and entertain stately, handsome monsters who would want to dance with her and…
Those strange flutterings between her thighs had returned.
Even if she found the idea of monsters enticing, she was a married woman. One who missed her husband dearly.
“Phillipa!” Margaret called out. She was still in the distance, but she was dressed in her best finery. Ainslee’s assessment was correct—it was time to head to Broadstone Hall.
Ainslee dove into Phillipa’s quiver as the maid came closer.
“I’m about to ready myself to travel,” Phillipa assured her. She wore her plainest morning dress, which had been stained from previous gardening endeavors. Mother cringed every time she put it on, but preparing herself to face the Wolven King was no delicate matter.
“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.” Margaret swallowed hard and lowered her eyes to the ground. “I’m afraid I will not be able to attend the Ball with you. Your mother is sending me to your sister Catherine’s house. She’ll be having that baby any day, and…”
“She needs you.” Phillipa’s older sister was swollen with child, but Catherine already had help, and this decision could have waited until Margaret returned from the Ball. They would be gone for less than a week. “Who will be my chaperone?”
“Oh, my lady. I despise that I’m the one to tell you this.” Margaret wrang her knotted hands. “Your mother will not allow you to go to the Ball. She’s forbidden any of the carriage drivers from bringing you to Maidenbury. Father Donnelly has arrived and if you don’t sign the annulment papers, she plans to send you to the Royal Hospital.”
Phillipa couldn’t breathe. Father Donnelly had been a fixture in Mother’s life since shortly after her father had passed. Mother insisted his guidance offered comfort, but he was the one who encouraged Mrs. Willoughby to persuade Phillipa to annul her marriage.