Chapter 7 : She-Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

*Gemma* "I'll send for you when I want to know what you taste like." Connor's rough purr sent ice down my veins, but I was so disgusted that I said, "I won't let you lick me." His laugh was deep with amusement. "I didn't say I would, but that's a brilliant idea. Your skin may be infused with sand and salt. I might enjoy that." You're sick, I wanted to snap at him, but I kept my lips sealed. I belatedly realized what he actually wanted to taste when his gaze traveled downward. Mortified and furious, I crossed my legs tighter. Connor laughed again. "Maybe I won't have to break you. Just pry you open." The door banged against the wall, and Raisa's voice saved me. "Alpha," she said, and her voice was a remarkable mix of sultriness and assertiveness with an edge of warning, implying there would be a consequence if he ignored her. "Cillian requires your superior war intellect." "I'm busy with a new toy, Raisa," he growled, his face now inches from mine. "She's not what I was promised, but tell me she isn't adequate." Then her hands were smoothing down Connor's broad shoulders, fingers gripping his elbows, and suddenly her face was inches away as she pressed a kiss to his scarred neck, leaving a smudge of red lipstick when she murmured, "She's beautiful in my opinion," she murmured. "But you don't want her yet. She hasn't even bathed in roses. If you really want to taste something… taste me." In my peripheral, Raisa's hand slid down Connor's torso toward his crotch. He growled again, this time in male satisfaction. He released me, yanking Raisa's chest to his, hands pushing her skimpy dress aside to grab her almost-bare ass and burying his face in her neck to kiss her so passionately that it looked like he was eating her, making exaggerated pleasured noises deep in his throat. I met Raisa's sea glass gaze. It was flat and disinterested. I narrowed my brows in a question. She mouthed back, "It's okay." "My lord," she hummed with a soft laugh, and I realized I was in the presence of a true actor who completely fooled her audience. "You know I don't like others watching." Connor retracted with an ugly sucking sound. Raisa plastered a demure look on her face, her lips sweet, her eyes smooth and adoring. "How could I forget?" He smacked her backside so hard she winced, but he didn't notice or care. "Where's the old bastard waiting?" "The war room, of course," Raisa simpered. "You've had too much wine, haven't you, my lord?" Connor kissed her roughly on the mouth. "It's a day to celebrate with my oldest bottle." His eyes cut to me. "She's worth more than she looks." "I'll train her well." Connor's grin was fanged. "Do not disappoint me, Raisa." "Have I ever?" Raisa purred back. He released her and crossed the massive room in half the steps I would have to take. It let me see his full outfit: a black silk shirt tucked into black jeans, which was surprisingly modern, but the jewelry was crude even from a distance. An armband around his bicep was made solely of wolf canines and a small braid in his hair was strung with more. Teeth pried from the mouths of his enemies. Raisa drifted to my side, her arm loose around my waist to support me. At the door, Connor spun on a polished black heel. "I expect you to be in my room in an hour, rose. Oh, and introduce her to the others." She dipped her head. "Of course, Alpha." He waved a dismissive hand and closed the door behind him. The second it slammed shut, Raisa said, "If you vomit on this floor, I swear...." I shook myself, feeling dazed but not enough to puke. There wasn't much in my stomach anyway. "I won't throw up. Thank you, Raisa. You saved me before breakfast. You probably don't want a life debt, do you?" Her laugh was abrupt, making me think she didn't expect my dry humor. "That's the last thing anyone wants or needs around here, sweet. Are you alright?" "The threat to lick me was…" "Normal. Expect rude remarks like that; it's all he's made of. Come on, let's take you back upstairs." I let her guide me back out, and I wasn't one bit upset about it. "You have him wrapped around your finger," I said. Her sideways smirk confirmed it. "If you play it right, you can get a male to do anything you want and they'll never know. The key is making it seem like they are the ones making the decision." "And flattery," I guessed. She looked at me with raised brows. "Quick learner. This is the harem hallway, though we just call it the harem," she told me after we ascended the stairs. At the first door, painted black, she said, "This is the parlor." I tripped on the carpet. "I'm sorry, the what?" "The harem," Raisa repeated without missing a beat. She nudged me directly in front of the door and turned the knob. It swung open, and my jaw dropped at what I saw inside. Outside the walls of the Hazelstone fortress was nothing but gray dust and misery, but on the inside was a marvel of skilled craftsmanship. The foyer was inlaid with gold, the outlook doned in velvet sunset, and this room was stunningly and luxuriously black. The walls, the plush rug in the center of a couch pit, said couches black velvet. The tables, candles, and decorative vases were all black. There was even an hourglass on a black stand with black sand. The half-dozen girls were decked in black, too. All their giggling and chatting stopped when they turned to see me, their smiles dropping into frowns. I felt a lively atmosphere turn bleak. "Desert flowers," Raisa announced, placing her delicate hands on my shoulders, "this is Gemma Brooks. Treat her with as much respect as you do me." "Hi," I said. I received a halfhearted hello in return, and they went back to whatever they were doing. They probably didn't like my gaping at their lack of clothing; most of the young females' skin was pale, stark against all the darkness, making it easy to find them. None of them could have been much older than me, and some looked much younger, and that didn't sit well with my morality. Raisa tsked and turned me by my shoulders to the next door over, this one a red as dark as cherries, and said, "This is my room." When she opened it, I almost breathed a sigh of relief at the modesty. Finally something not over-the-top to blow my tiny humble mind. Everything was made of that dark cherry red, but it wasn't overwhelmingly so like all the other rooms. This looked the homiest and most lived-in. Like it wasn't just a place to show wealth. "Sit," Raisa ordered, jerking her chin to the couch pit. I obeyed; a moment later, she said beside me, crossing a leg over her knee. Goddess damn her, even that was elegant. "I protect those girls. Connor is volatile, and I'm the only one who can calm him down. But I only protect them if I know them." I felt like I was being interrogated. My head was spinning so much already that I just said, "Okay." Raisa leaned toward me. She smelled like roses and the remnants of Connor's musk, scents calming enough that I could almost ignore the deadly gleam in her eyes and the glimpse of long canines when she growled, "He said you weren't who you're supposed to be. He doesn't go for females like you, especially not Eastern ones. So who the hell are you?" Completely alone in an enemy's personal home, I knew I needed to make friends. Right now, Raisa was my only and best option to help me survive. And if I was too bold to wonder, I think she wanted to help me, too. I kept her glare. "I really am Gemma Brooks." The truths I had to tell I wasn't afraid to tell because somehow I knew that Raisa would keep it to herself instead of exposing me to Connor. "But no, I'm not who he was apparently promised. I switched places with my cousin, Lynn Brooks." Raisa narrowed her eyes further, searching my face for lies. "Keep going." "Her father, my uncle, is the Beta of Oceantide. She's only sixteen, so…" I rambled the whole story, not leaving out a single detail up until this point, and when I finished, I slouched on the couch, as if telling my adventure had used up the last reserves of my energy. Raisa straightened her spine, still appraising me with a wary stare. For a long moment, she was silent as she ingested everything I told her. Then she said quietly, "I told you us daughters are worth far less." I huffed a delirious laugh. "I learned that very quickly." Finally, she broke the tense link between us and sighed, resting her cheek on the back of the couch. "You must be overwhelmed." "Yeah." "You were expecting to be a single breeder." "Yeah." Raisa's look softened. "Technically, you still are. You just share the duty with me and six others." I didn't like the word "duty" in that context. "I just want to know what I—what Lynn—was traded for. Oceantide is loyal to Sun Mountain, not Hazel Coast, so did Haveloek make some kind of underhanded deal with Connor?" Raisa lifted one shoulder briefly. "If it was me, I would keep the wondering at the back of my mind and focus on the present. Look too much into the past...." She shrugged again, but this one wasn't so careless. "It comes back to bite. So spare yourself from the pain." The words spoke of a deeper message that I figured she didn't want to get into. But then she sighed and relented, "It's rare that the truth is spoken around here, so I'll repay you." I sat back up when she said, "I used to be the daughter of an Alpha." My eyes widened, and then followed hers as they looked over my shoulder. There was a short, wide glass box on the side table beside her four-poster bed with what looked like a torn piece of fabric. I couldn't get a good look from this distance. "Duskfall. A day's trip away from Rosewren pack's borderline. We spent so much time, so much effort, into shoring up our defenses in the height of the war, but in the end, it didn't matter." When she looked at me, there were tears threatening in her eyes. "My father promised me in exchange for leaving the rest of our pack alone. Connor agreed, and I was dragged away screaming by one of his Epsilon as he shook my father's hand… and then slashed his throat open." "I'm sorry, Raisa," I breathed in genuine care. The West was so cruel… The actress sniffed and smiled, tossing her curls over her shoulder, eyes hardening into something determined and clever. "Now I f*ck my father's murderer. What a sick life. Call me a consort or a slave or a harem keeper, but I'm a wolf above all else. I don't want revenge for my father, Gemma Brooks, I want—" There was a knock on the door. I was already tired of knocking on doors. "Come in," Raisa called, all trace of rebellion gone in a blink. "Oh, my lord, you're early—" Connor stood in the doorway, the front of his shirt drenched. It only took a moment for the reek of alcohol to hit my nose. Even from across the room, his gold eyes burned hotter than flame. "You," he barked, pointing at me. "Take off your clothes. Now."