Equally shocked, Laura helped Mirella pull up the gown and adjust the bodice to mold to her curves.
The silk hugged her skin like a glove, accentuating Mirella’s soft hips and giving her an hourglass figure. When she turned to take a peek of her back, she gasped. Even if she hadn’t been forbidden by her husband, she wouldn’t have been able to wear any underwear. Her whole back was indecently exposed.
“May I take a look?” the tailor asked.
Holding her breath, Mirella walked around the screen and stood before the man.
He opened his mouth, shook his head once, cleared his throat, wiped a tear from his cheek, then finally said, “Just perfect.” He took a slow turn around Mirella, pulling the fabric in a few places and raising her bodice a few millimeters, then stepped back. “There are no adjustments to be made. It is as if the great Genevieve has made this dress for you specifically, Blessed Bride.”
After taking a last adoring look at the crystals on the front, his eyes went to the smaller package. “Shall we open the shoe box?”
Stepping closer to the island, Mirella unwrapped the second box and found the dress’ matching stiletto heels.
“Would you put them on, please?” the tailor asked. “So I can get the whole visual.”
Leaning on Laura, Mirella obliged the man. The heels were higher than any she had ever worn, but the shoes were surprisingly comfortable, and when she tried a few steps, she didn’t wobble.
“Again, made just for you.” The tailor bowed lower than he had done when they had first met, then departed with a lasting comment. “I’d never thought I would see the wild wolf tamed.”
Mirella watched the man exit the walk-in closet while wiping a few tears and again wondered about his words.
“How would you like me to style your hair?” Laura asked, bringing Mirella back to the task at hand.
Mirella smiled. “Something simple.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“The Blessed Bride wishes to surprise you,” Mirella’s lady’s maid informed Valentine when he entered the right wing’s foyer.
He raised an eyebrow in response, which led the girl to run back to her mistress and close the heavy wooden door behind her.
Unaccustomed to receiving orders, even gently-spoken ones as his bride had it delivered, Valentine started pacing the length of the foyer. The two servants working the floor hastily finished mopping, then removed themselves with a low bow. Three mechanical workers methodically cleaned the walls and the mirrors, sliding on the surfaces in a fluid up-and-down motion, their bodies gyrating as their padded legs extended to reach far away corners.
As much as Valentine enjoyed watching his clockwork servants in action, after almost half an hour he had had enough of pacing. He was about to burst in and inform Mirella that he was through waiting when the doors finally opened and the maid stepped outside.
He was of a mind to administer a good spanking to his kitten’s rump later, but his ability to think coherent thoughts came to an end the moment Mirella entered the foyer.
Every shade of blue was good on her, but azure made for the most striking statement against her white skin, auburn locks, and smoldering green eyes. Her slender figure was emphasized by the gown he had commissioned for her, and the heels put her on a pedestal. She had kept her hair loose, but collected her locks over one shoulder, leaving her back bare. On her face she wore only minimal makeup. A touch of rouge over her lips and just enough smoky charcoal to frame her jewel eyes. A small diamond shone just above her brows at the center of her forehead.
He walked around her, then stopped at her back, reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out the choker he had chosen for her. Reaching to her front, he placed the diamonds and pearls braided in a garland against her skin. “There is no woman more beautiful than you in all the Coral System,” he whispered as he secured the necklace on the back, letting a solitaire pearl dangle low to the middle of her spine.
When he slowly spun her around so that she could face one of the gilded mirrors dotting the foyer’s walls, she brought a hand over the choker, her eyes wide.
Mirella blinked a few times, then she said, “This is too much.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Gratitude will suffice.”
She tilted her head and gave him the sweetest of smiles. “Thank you, husband.”
“Anything for you, my Blessed Bride.” And at that moment, Valentine realized it was true.
“I apologize for making you wait, but I had Laura redo the makeup a few times. I wanted it to be perfect for you,” she said as he offered her his arm.
“You are perfection.” He couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Thank you.” She lowered her eyes, coyly. Her long lashes fanning over her slightly pink cheeks. “You look very handsome in your formal dress.”
Looking at the two of them in the mirror, Valentine smiled at her reflection. They were beautiful together. He had chosen her dress in that shade of azure because it would complement his House Lobo blue and green tartan kilt and navy blue formal jacket.
“Shall we?” With a brush on the back of her hand, he led her to the first floor and the Grand Room.
As they walked through the house, servants stopped what they were doing to take furtive glances at the Blessed Bride. All the while, Valentine watched Mirella, who seemed oblivious to the kind of reaction people had to her. Instead, her eyes kept coming back to his, and he saw adoration in her green emeralds.
“Lobo Mansion is so large, it will take me a lifetime to visit every room—” she said after they crossed the whole length of yet another hallway.
Her comment marred Valentine’s happiness, but he wouldn’t succumb to his dark moods. “I promised you a trip to the library and since it’s on the way to the Grand Room, I’ll show it to you tonight.”
She squeezed his arm and regaled him her brightest smile yet.
A few minutes later, he opened the heavy wooden door of the library. “Please.” He let her in the room and waited for her reaction.
Turning on the spot, Mirella took in the two-story room with a second-floor balcony and the mechanical, sliding ladders that ran along the perimeter. Floor to ceiling dark-wood bookshelves covered every wall, while long-legged, mechanical dusters scurried up and down the sills, brushing the tomes with their feathery limbs and giving the empty room a busy look with their incessant droning.
Mirella turned to face the cathedral window with stained glass panels occupying the space opposite the door. “What’s that story about?” she asked, pointing at the girl wearing a red cloak and at the black wolf depicted on the stained glasses.
“The usual. Girl meets wolf. Wolf has his wicked way with the girl,” Valentine answered and couldn’t help but smile.
Mirella looked away and continued her perusing of the library. The black and burgundy leather couches and sofas scattered in the middle of the room were a recent addition Valentine had made, along with the roaring fireplace providing warmth and light to an otherwise cold environment.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, walking toward the nearest bookshelf. “So many books.” Looking over her tantalizingly naked shoulder, she asked, “How many of them have you read?”
“Almost all of them once, some of them twice.” At her shocked expression, he added, “I’ve been alive for a very long time, the majority of which I spent onboard an orbital station where there wasn’t a lot to do besides read.” And pursuing carnal pleasure. But that wasn’t a detail she needed to know, although it led him to say, “Would you like to see where I keep the special collection I told you about?” He accompanied the question with a brush of his fingertips on the small of her back.
“Yes…” She shivered under his touch, and goosebumps raised over her naked skin.
He dipped his hand beneath the fabric. Spreading his fingers over her perky rump, he softly kneaded her flesh. “This way.” With a slight pressure, he indicated she should walk.
She gasped, and he couldn�
��t resist pinching her cheek as she stepped forward.
“I knew I would love this dress on you.” He kept his hand on her curves, but stopped teasing her.
“Thank you for the gift.”
“My pleasure.” He halted them in the middle of the room, leaned away to keep her at arms-length, and gave her a slow once-over. “Literally.”
“How could you obtain a Genevieve Lafrette in such short amount of time?”
“Genevieve is an old friend of mine and she owed me a favor. I told her what I wanted and your measurements, and she put it together in no time. She’s talented that way.”
Mirella didn’t look convinced. “But it takes at least two weeks to ship a package from Celestia—”
“I own a shipping company and I had it delivered overnight.” He had commissioned an entire interstellar fighter to ship only two packages, the dress and the shoes. After giving her another glance, he said, “All worth it.” Sliding his arm across her back and enjoying the feeling of her shivering skin under his hand, he led her to the bookshelves close to the fireplace. “You can come here whenever you want.”
Not wanting to ruin her makeup, he didn’t kiss her red mouth like he wanted, at length and with burning passion, but resigned to caress her back. “In fact, you could resume your education when I’m otherwise busy.” He slid his hand to the side of her dress and with his fingers skimmed the swell of her breast. “I’ll test you at night.” He bent to nibble at her earlobe, then, knowing what he was looking for, his hand reached toward the shelf and grabbed one particular tome with the title Ars Amandi on its black spine.
The book’s distressed look revealed its ancient age. Its worn leather cover was dyed in a deep crimson and carved in an abstract pattern of waves and circles. He followed the contour of one of the circles. “I think you should start with this textbook.”
“Ars Amandi. What does it mean?” she asked.
“The art of making love,” he answered, before opening the tome to a precise page.
Mirella’s eyes widened at the sight of what he was showing her. A man and a woman, naked, writhing in pleasure as the man took her before a mirror. “This looks nothing like Mrs. Claretta’s books.”
“It looks a lot like us, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. Her lips parted while her chest rose and fell fast.
He leafed through the images until he found the one he was looking for. “What do you think of this one?”
“That it is not a painting.” She brought a hand to her chest, averting her eyes from a bondage scene that involved ropes, leather restraints, and a white feather.
Valentine was partial to the use of feathers to stimulate senses.
“Terrans liked to take photographs of themselves,” he explained, changing the page. Another bondage scene. Clad in white strips of cloth, a woman was kneeling before a man, looking at him with a dreamy expression on her face.
Mirella looked at the image, then breathlessly, she repeated, “Photographs?”
“Lifelike images shot with cameras.”
Mirella gave him a perplexed stare.
“I have one of those cameras. I’ll show it to you.”
She hesitated a moment, looked down at the provocative image, then back up at him. “Do you make these kinds of photographs with it?”
“I have, yes.”
“Did you have women pose for you like that?”
The conversation wasn’t going where he had intended it to go. “Yes.” He leafed through the book and stopped at another image.
She asked, “Did you pose with them too?”
“Sometimes.”
Tentatively, she placed a hand over the glossy paper, tracing the contour of the couple captured in the ecstasy of wild lovemaking. “I would like to pose for you.”
“That can be arranged.” The whole of Adris would be at his party in less than an hour, but he would’ve sent every single one of them home to take Mirella to his studio and place her before the camera. The black velvet blindfold would look good on her fair skin. Red lips parted in a moan. Wrists tied to the posts. “Soon,” he said, more to himself than to her. His gaze went to her platinum bracelet. He could reenact their wedding night. “Very soon.”
All the while, his inner beast had been demanding he push his bride against the back of the closest couch, raise her gown, and fulfill his biological mandate. The wolf had become more desperate since Valentine had disobeyed its strong will.
“We must go to the Grand Room,” he said.
Nodding, she removed her hand from the book.
He placed the tome on top of the shelf, instead of sliding it between the others. “So you can find it right away,” he explained. “But feel free to take out any that you like.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Valentine’s hand remained on the small of her back the whole time they walked toward the Grand Room, making it difficult for Mirella to concentrate on anything else. Especially after the visit to his library. The images he had shown her were lifelike, and the people in them had not looked like they were posing.
Whereas Mrs. Claretta’s illustrations were just drawn pictures of an instructional nature, Valentine’s book had titillated her senses. Mirella had never felt the urge to caress herself after one of her tutor’s classes, but at the moment she could only think of her husband tying her and displaying her for his pleasure.
“Only the Solarians and House Lobo’s entourage are in the ballroom at the moment. The rest of the dignitaries and royalty will arrive shortly,” Valentine said, interrupting her reveries. His fingers grazed her skin with a possessive quality as if he was marking her.
Mirella liked the feeling of being owned by her husband and she arched against his touch.
“Kitten,” he whispered. “You’ll behave now.” Before pushing his free hand over the white wood frame of the Grand Ball’s French door, he lowered the other to her rump and gave it a sharp pinch.
She wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a promise, but she yelped nonetheless and had to close her legs tight to quench the fire spreading through her body.
“Blessed Bride,” Dragon called from nearby.
She spun to face the Solarian walking toward them, a bright smile on his face.
“What a vision you are.” Dragon bowed low, while his people, standing a few meters from him, knelt before Mirella.
The rest of the room too followed the Solarian’s example, and soon everyone from both Houses was paying respect to the Blessed Bride.
Embarrassed, Mirella motioned for them to rise. “At ease, please.”
“Lobo.” Dragon tilted his head toward Valentine, who saluted back in the same fashion.
Her husband’s hold on her had tightened the moment the Solarian had addressed her. She liked that too. Immensely.
Valentine and his guest exchanged a few words about the next few days’ plans, and Mirella took a moment to scan the Grand Room and the rest of the present company.
As the name implied, the Grand Room was grand indeed. The ceiling was three or four stories high, vaulted and frescoed with an anachronistic light-blue sky and equally improbable white clouds. After staring at the mural for a few seconds, Mirella realized the clouds moved and the rest of the sky slightly changed color. She spent a few minutes with her nose to the ceiling, following the progression of a flock of birds from one corner of the room to the other.
When the birds disappeared and didn’t come back, she shifted her attention to the walls, stuccoed with white and ivory frames and delicate carvings. Paintings and gilded mirrors dressed every surface with a touch of color. Long tables decorated with fine damask tablecloths and floral arrangements had been placed along the perimeter, laden with food and drinks. Couches and chairs abounded for later when the guests would want to take a respite from the party.
The Grand Room was exquisite and, like everything that belonged to Lobo Manor, exuded raw power. The antique furniture casually disseminated throughout the ballroom and the blo
wn glass chandeliers hanging from the ceilings spoke of privilege and ancient fortunes. A few days ago, Mirella would’ve been intimidated by the casual splendor of Valentine’s abode. Now, the man confounded her senses even more than all the luxuries in his house.
She still eyed the vast space in admiration, until she noticed the group of people huddled in the other corner of the ballroom. Valentine’s entire harem was gazing at her with looks that varied from pure adoration to loathing.
The redhead, whose name Mirella refused to pronounce even in the privacy of her own thoughts, was staring daggers at her. The moment Valentine turned, the courtesan immediately schooled her traits into a sweet smile, for which Mirella despised the woman even more.
Leaning closer to her husband, Mirella turned slightly sidewise and showed the courtesan where Valentine’s hand rested, on the small of her back. With the corner of her eye, Mirella saw the color draining from the woman’s face as her fake smile faded.
“Are you enjoying yourself, kitten?” Valentine whispered to her ear.
When she looked at him, he raised an eyebrow and his lip curved up in an amused grin.
“Immensely,” she answered with a tilt of her head.
Soon, Valentine’s guests started arriving in throngs, and she was too busy welcoming them alongside her husband to care about the courtesan any longer.
Lupine’s who’s who had gathered at Lobo Mansion for the night. Even Prince Aran was present, escorted by a large delegation from the royal court.
When the heir to the throne of Adris approached Mirella she started curtseying, but the handsome man took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Blessed Bride, it should be me kneeling at your feet. Your beauty has already inspired poetry and ballads. At court, people only talk about you, and I can see why. Although I’ll say that the rumors don’t come close to reality. You are the brightest star in the firmament.” With a low bow, Prince Aran kissed her hand.
The Fifth Moon's Wolf (The Fifth Moon's Tales) Page 15