Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 65871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“None of us do what we want, Anya. There are responsibilities that come with our positions. You must face that.”
Anya
I didn’t graduate from college. I don’t belong in these meetings. Everybody is so nice and respectful to me, but as the days pass by it starts to feel like the walls are closing in. I don’t get to be me, Anya. I get to be the alpha’s mate, and nothing else. I know I am fortunate to be in this position, but it feels like I’ve become a shadow of myself. I know how to smile and be nice to people; I’ve always been able to fit in by making myself socially acceptable.
But I also think I’m going insane, just a little. I want to go out. I want to go be myself. I want to have friends like I used to have. Every time I think of friends, I am thrown back to the memory of those images the detective showed me.
It feels like death is following me at the moment, stalking behind me. First my mom, then my friends. I wasn’t as close to them as I was to her, obviously, but the existential threat feels very present.
“Fine,” I say. “I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to…”
“Good girl,” he says, not bothering to listen to the rest of what I have to say. It doesn’t matter, does it? I am here to be fucked, bred, and to compliment the borscht.
Alexei’s teeth graze back along my neck, and his hands run down the sides of my body. I feel the chemistry crackling between us, the desire starting to tingle between my legs. He’s going to fuck me, I know it, and I’m not only going to let him, I’m going to love every single moment of it.
He takes the hem of the dress that I couldn’t decide whether to wear or not, and he pulls it up over my head, making me naked all over again. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother putting clothes on at all, his hunger for me is so intense.
“I don’t want you being moody,” he growls in my ear. “You’re my mate. You deserve to be happy, and you are being spoiled. Deeply. Aren’t you?”
Maybe I am being spoiled a little. I get everything I want within reason. The pack caters to my every whim. If I want new clothes, or entertainment, or any kind of toy or furnishing, I get it.
“Yes,” I admit.
“That’s right, you’re a spoiled little brat, aren’t you,” he says, his voice softly snarling as his hands run up and down my hips and thighs. “I like spoiling you. I like giving you everything you could ever want. But I don’t like this attitude you’re getting lately.”
He spanks my ass sharply, making me yelp. “What are you going to say, Anya?”
“Sorry?” I squeak the word experimentally.
“That’s right, sorry,” he says. “You should be grateful, Anya. I like spoiling you, but I don’t want you being spoiled.”
I look around the room we share. How could anybody not be spoiled in a place like this? The four-poster bed is just the beginning of the palatial surroundings. We are standing just outside a walk-in closet that is bigger than the lounge in the house my mom and I used to share.
This is a room for a princess, and how can a princess not be spoiled?
Alexei’s palm meets my ass, bringing me to my toes on the plush rug that covers the stone floor. Nearby, a fire crackles in a fireplace that is taller than I am. Everything in this room is supersized and makes me feel as though I am small—especially Alexei.
There are still some indications that he used to occupy this room alone. The minibar complete with dozens of crystal decanters filled with more kinds of liquor than I can name. A similar, but more elegant tray on the other side of the room contains perfumes for me. The truth is there’s more in this room alone than I can ever really use.
The room is lit by three chandeliers, all of which are beautiful. Perfectly shaped pieces of crystal refract light throughout the room. The light falls on paintings done by what I am sure are masters of their art lining the walls: landscapes, battle scenes, and wolves. There are many depictions of wolves, which I know represent our history.
The contents of this room are a trove of various treasures and treats, many of which I am sure I have yet to unearth. There is just too much here in Russia for me to enjoy. There are more clothes than I could ever wear, all of them made by designers. For a girl who wore jeans and t-shirts most of her life, with an occasional skirt when I wanted to be hot, this is a change of pace that I am still adjusting to.