by Chloe Cole
Come on, just be fluid. Be one with the music. Be—
“Blarg!” A sharp, hot pain shot through my foot and I hopped in place before grabbing my ankle and wrenching my foot up to see what had happened. An angry red mark marred my skin, a blister already starting to form.
Double crap.
I glanced behind me to find that I’d stepped on a loose coal from the fire.
With another glance at my father’s now murderous expression, I knew I had to keep dancing or the pain of the burn would be the least of my worries. I hopped up and down and shimmied, careful to keep all the pressure on my uninjured foot.
But it was no use. The other girls were looking at me now, and, as I glanced around the fire, I realized so was everyone else. Their reactions varied from shock and horror to cruel and taunting laughter.
Everyone except Iris, whose stricken face conveyed the worst emotion of them all.
Pity.
I closed my eyes and slowed to a halt before backing away from the fire into the shadows. It was only then that I noticed Gatlin Saint John studying me with an unreadable expression.
I was still trying to decide whether to cut and run or just launch myself into the fire and be done with it when I saw the grinning king gesture to Saint John with an imperious wave of his hand.
Turning, King Sebastian pointed to me and handed something to Gatlin before settling back in his throne. Saint John nodded and then walked toward me, his confident gait full of purpose. In his hand, he held a purple sash. Halting before me, he swiftly looped it over my head to cross over my body before walking away and rejoining the king.
I blinked down at the thin strip of cloth, hardly able to believe my eyes. I wasn’t alone in my surprise as the crowd exploded into furious whispers all around me.
“Is this a joke?”
“Surely, he’s toying with her.”
“But she’s so…unattractive.”
“Maybe he’s hit his head and lost his marbles?”
But their cruel words bounced off me because I had been chosen.
By the king himself.
Skirting past his throne, I wasn’t sure whether to curtsy or speak to him, nor was I sure how to respond to the shuttered expression on his queen’s face, but he saved me from the trouble by grasping my hand and kissing the back of it before motioning me into the tent and away from the crowd.
I couldn’t look at my father or my mother. I didn’t even dare look at Iris as I passed. No, as I moved through the stunned crowd, all I could do was stare at the purple sash and take my place on the first tufted cushion I could find to signify that I was no longer on Offer.
With one hand, I gently stroked the fabric, and tried to make sense of the sudden and insistent urge to cry. I wasn’t upset, exactly. Part of me was elated. My father would have what he hadn’t even dreamed possible and my family would be afforded the highest honor.
But then…
I glanced up and found the subject of my thoughts staring straight back at me through the opening of the tent.
Gatlin Saint John’s shuttered gaze drilled into mine.
And at the sight of his bright, white teeth and the new appraising gleam in his eyes, a little tingle rolled through me.
But that couldn’t be right.
I was about to become property of the king. This was what every lioness in the land dreamed of, and I refused to tingle for anyone else.
No, surely, what I’d felt was…nerves? Terror? Uncertainty?
Probably a healthy dose of all of the above.
His mouth quirked into a mocking smile, almost as if he could read my thoughts. Impossible, but my heart pounded harder nonetheless.
I frowned at him, but when he only looked even more amused, I allowed a sudden, childish urge get the best of me for one foolish moment and stuck my tongue out at him.
As soon as I’d done it, I wanted to cut it off.
So out of character. What had come over me? What sort of idiot antagonized a man like him? I would be at his mercy soon, and instead of behaving with grace, I’d let him goad me. For all I knew, he might walk into the tent, drag me out and beat me for my insolence.
Only, he didn’t. His smile widened, a predatory flash of white teeth mixed with humor as a speculative gleam lit his eyes.
It should’ve been a relief, considering the alternatives…
So then, why was my whole body suddenly trembling?
Chapter 2
I shifted the bamboo handle of my carpetbag from one hand to the other and then gripped the satin-lined instruction card a little bit tighter. It had been tucked into my hand by a servant the night of the Offering ceremony two days before, and I hadn’t let it out of my sight since, secreting it beneath the cheap straw bedding at the inn my father had selected for our short stay.
But now my family was gone, on their way back to our farm, and I was here. At the Saint John estate to start my lessons.
It was surreal.
There was no doubt, of course, that this was the place I’d been meant to go to. The sprawling estate was like a beacon of gorgeous, white stone that should have seemed forbidding just due to its size but instead seemed to call to me in welcome. The whole of the yard was meticulously manicured, and even in the early autumn chill, the grass had yet to change from a full, lush green.
I pursed my lips, but there was no use standing in the doorway, staring at the wide, oak doors for much longer. One way or another, someone was going to find me here on the doorstep, and if I'd learned anything positive at all from watching my father, it was that decisive action was always better than waiting.
I rapped on the door and then gripped my carpetbag even tighter. Glancing down, I noticed that my knuckles had gone white.
The door swung open a few seconds later as a young blonde maid opened the door.
She curtsied and I nodded, palms suddenly slick with sweat.
Could she tell just by looking at me that I was a fraud? A phony. A fake. Surely, I still carried just the faintest hint of farm stink. The kind even the most glorious bath soap couldn’t wash away. Did she wonder why I was here, handing her this luscious, creamy invitation while she was mopping the floors?
Did she know I was wondering the same thing?
But she just smiled kindly and took the card, swinging the door wider.
“Hello, Miss. Welcome to the Saint John estate.”
I stepped in and barely held back a gasp as I took in my surroundings. Marble floors stretched for what felt like acres and the gleaming wood smelled of fresh beeswax. The walls of the foyer into the great room boasted dozens of paintings and tapestries, all of them outdoor scenes, each one a feast for the eyes. Opulent wasn’t the right word because everything was so understated in comparison to the images I’d seen of the king’s castle, but it was clear that the Saint John brothers enjoyed the finer things.
I’d spent my life feeling like a fish out of water and it seemed that wasn’t about to change any time soon.
“Why don’t I take your bag? You can have a seat in the great room and I’ll let Master Gatlin know you’re here.”
I’d almost forgotten she was beside me in my daze over my surroundings and turned toward her with a smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
She took my bag and scurried toward the wide, sweeping staircase but I called after her, stopping her in her tracks.
“Sorry, I forgot to ask. What’s your name?”
She shot me a quick grin over her shoulder. “Hattie, Miss.”
“I’m Anaya. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well, Miss.” Hattie bobbed her head and then turned to run lightly up the stairs.
I watched her, wondering if she felt as out of control of her own fate as I did. She worked very hard, I was sure of it. But servants were typically compensated well and valued enough that, if she was mistreated, she could get a job with another family easily. She would be protected by her employers so that marauders would be dissuaded
from attacking her, and she could select a mate from any of the males in her station if she chose to. Best of all, no one would expect her to rise above her station. It was a pie in the sky dream. One in a million. So the expectations were set at zero.
Was there some freedom in that?
I felt oddly envious for an instant, which seemed petty and ungrateful, even to me, and my cheeks flushed with shame. I was only here because I was one rung above her on the social ladder and, given that I worked like a dog on the farm, I was pretty sure even that was semantics. I should stop with the self-pity and start feeling grateful. After all, the alternative? To have left the Offering ceremony not being selected at all.
I shuddered at the thought of what life with Father would’ve been like.
No, this was my life now and the sooner I came to terms and got on with it, the better.
I squared my shoulders and crossed the foyer into the room the maid had indicated, taking a seat on the very edge of the long emerald green settee.
“Glad to see you had no trouble finding it,” a low male voice called from the entrance.
I turned to find Gatlin Saint John striding toward me, looking every bit as delicious as he had the night of the Offering.
I resisted the urge to run my hand through my hair as he stopped by my seat and bowed slightly before taking the chair across from me. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight and I was surprised to see that his eyes were a deep blue.
Misfits unite, a small part of me cheered. But he also had the bearing of a king. He could bow to me all he wanted, we both knew who held the power here.
“Thank you, it’s a truly magnificent home,” I replied, meeting his gaze and managing a stiff smile.
His eyes flicked to my mouth and he smiled back, a cocky, lopsided hitch of his lips
“Good. I was worried you might hate it and stick your tongue out at me again.”
I folded my hands on my lap and wished the settee cushions would swallow me whole. Some twisted, naive part of me had hoped he’d forgotten about that.
“It was a…stressful evening. I do apologize, I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
There. That sounded like a reasoned response, and I hadn’t even babbled or stuttered once.
“Nor do I,” Gatlin said, reclining back into his seat as he crossed his legs at the ankles casually. “Frankly, between that and the dancing debacle, I was worried you were a bit touched in the head,” he confided with a raised brow.
The hands that had been folded in my lap now clenched as I stared at him. I’d met cocky men before, mostly old blowhard friends of my father, but this took arrogance to a new level. I was used to being bossed around, talked over and treated poorly. This taunting, though? This was new, and for some reason it lit a strange fire inside me that I’d never felt.
And still, he was my host and it could be a long, uncomfortable stay. So I bit my wayward tongue and inclined my head.
“I can see why you might have. It won’t happen again.”
I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or if he looked slightly disappointed as he slapped his hands on his thighs and rolled easily to his feet. “Excellent. Let me give you a quick tour of the house. We won’t go through all the rooms, frankly there are many and you’ll get to them eventually, but enough so you can move freely and find what you need.”
I rose and followed his lead as he showed me around. My first impression was right, the place was huge. Dining room large enough to seat thirty, the kitchen a chef’s dream.
He introduced me to several of the servants as well as the cook, and then led me upstairs.
“Where are the rest of your brothers?” I asked, noting mentally that I’d seen neither hide nor hair of the rest of the famed Saint John men.
“They’re on a hunt today. We find that meeting the new charges all at the same time can be…overwhelming.”
If this didn’t constitute overwhelming, I wasn’t sure what did. But I held my tongue as we continued through the house.
When we reached the landing, I was surprised to find that this floor was not at all like the first one. Rather than being open and airy, it was one long hallway. There must have been fifteen doors just within my view, most of them open on this floor alone. He gestured for me to move ahead and explore so I did, peering into the first door. It was lovely. A simple, white bed set furnished the room and sheer, gauzy drapes hung from the windows, a gentle blush colored the walls.
"Pretty," I murmured. “Is this one mine?”
Gatlin shook his head and then shrugged. “It’s smaller than the one I’d selected for you, but you can have this one if you prefer.”
I narrowed my gaze at him, mind churning. Could it really be that easy, then? Was I going to be treated like a revered guest? Make my wishes known and then have them granted?
Surely, not. Life had taught me that kindness came at a price. If I behaved and did as I was told, I’d be given a clean enough space to lay my head, protection, and food in my mouth. Gatlin Saint John wasn’t my father, but he was still a man. He would do what he could to keep me content enough to stay quiet and obedient so long as doing so didn’t interfere with his own agenda.
The worst thing I could do was let my guard down so soon over something as shallow as a pretty bedroom.
I took another step and glanced into the next room. This one was much the same, only larger, with the walls painted the color of a robin’s egg and bedding in a sunny yellow. The colors cheered me instantly and I turned to face him.
“This one?”
He inclined his head and gestured to my carpetbag that was resting atop a cream-colored velvet chair in the corner.
He stepped into the room and I followed as he led me to a double set of slatted doors. “The king’s dressmakers are working on some custom pieces for when you’re called to the harem, but we estimated your size and have plenty to choose from while you’re here.”
He swung open the doors, the scent of fresh cedar filling the air with the motion, and I peered into the closet with a gasp.
A dozen dresses or more hung before me, each more lovely than the last. One, the shade of fresh peaches, beside another, of emerald green, that took my breath away. Some were simple cotton and lace frocks for daytime, others elaborate ball gowns made of the finest silk.
My mind catapulted me back to home, the farm town I’d left only weeks before. There had been maybe three hundred of us there, predator shifters of many types, all of whom knew how to hunt. So while most of its residents had enough food to eat, we lived a hard and simple life. The decadence before me was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
“It’s almost obscene,” I murmured without thought.
As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back. It was both rude and thoughtless. Before I could apologize, Gatlin closed the doors and stepped back. His expression as he regarded me was hard to read, but I wouldn’t call it angry.
“That’s the most interesting response I’ve heard in my years here, I’ll give you that.”
“I’m very grateful for all the clothes, though,” I added in hopes of doing some damage control, but he’d already moved on to the bathroom.
“You have your own bath, although there is another room deeper in the house with a larger one for soaking that you’re welcome to use. Just ask one of the maids.”
I peeked in and breathed in the scent of delicate lilac cakes of soap. First order of business once I had even five minutes alone?
Hot bath.
Maybe it would calm my nerves some. Because, despite Gatlin having been nothing but a gentleman thus far, there was a restrained energy about him—a power that emanated outward with every move he made—that unsettled me and left me feeling strange inside. I couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop where the facade of the highborn gentleman would fall away and the lion would emerge.
"Maybe we should go over the ground rules?" he asked, making me wonder if my face had given my apprehension away.
/> “All right.”
"Anaya, I've worked with a lot of girls and I know this process can be very overwhelming."
I regarded him, doing my best to keep my expression blank, but I still couldn't scrub the worry from my mind.
"The most important thing to remember is that you are chosen." He paused. "A gift for the king, not a slave. Nobody is going to make you do anything that you don't want to do here."
A snort burst from my lips and I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t know what’s come over me lately. I don’t mean to laugh, but surely, eventually, there will be expectations if I’m supposed to please the king?”
He pursed his beautiful lips and looked away. “I can’t speak for what happens when you go to the castle, but I can tell you that, while you’re with me and my brothers, you will not be forced to do anything sexually that you aren't comfortable with. There are rules you need to follow and we ask that you try to keep an open mind, but all of those things are for your own safety. The less you close yourself off, the better prepared you’ll be for all eventualities when you leave us.”
I blinked, still not sure if I believed him but wanting to so badly. If I knew I had some sort of control…some reprieve before I was handed over to the most powerful man in the lands, I could breathe.
"How do I know what I'm comfortable with?" I asked softly.
"Well, what experience do you have?"
I blinked up at him again.
"It's all right. The king prefers that his selections are virgins, but he doesn’t assume you’ve never been touched.”
I wet my lips and looked away, cheeks heating. “I’ve never…been touched.”
"I see." He nodded, but remained as unreadable as ever. “Well, you may not know what you like now but you will before you leave here.”
I was sure he meant those words to be reassuring. Calming, even. Instead, they set my heart racing.
“All we ask is that you remain open to the lessons, Anaya. Pleasure is your right, both to give it and to receive it. Never forget that.”