Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
In the elven realm, even the simplest folk from the villages inhabited by craftspeople and farmers have an appreciation for detail and beauty that seems absent from this lesser reality where utility always seems to triumph over sensuality. Though even the most useful of mundane items here appear to be flimsy and set up for failure, as if there was no point in repairing them once they inevitably break.
I wasn't allowed to bring many things and was instructed that the Nocturne Court fashions would make me stand out too much, so I’m stuck in jeans and an acceptably elegant shirt, but at least I got to take a few pieces of jewelry with me.
I’m deep in my thoughts when the beast in front of me makes a deep bow, throwing one hand to the side. “My prince, I will do as you ask. Nobody will even know I exist.” He grabs my hand with his massive fingers, and kisses my gold ring. It only reminds me how overheated I got when he pressed his tattooed knuckles against my cock. I can hardly believe what I’ve already let him do tonight.
“The neighbors often watch what’s happening, so it’s better if you stay behind. I will give you a signal from the window,” I say and turn around, slipping out of his grasp.
All I can think of when I start walking toward the house I’m staying at is that he’s watching me. Even though our arrangement is still flimsy, all he wants for his shadow is my body. My body. Not something I’ve ever been praised for, yet he seems insatiable for it already.
I don’t have to worry about this deal yet, as nothing will happen until I get the collar off. Until then, I hope to become more acquainted with him, which will hopefully make the… process easier.
But I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that his touch was welcome. He is exactly the type of man I’d imagine when lying awake at night, unable to sleep because my mind is troubled by too many thoughts. I drift off into a fantasy where I don’t have to make important decisions that can decide my fate. Under a man like that, I could stop thinking altogether for a while.
For now though, my mind works like a household of servants before an emperor’s visit, and my heart is already beating faster as I open the door of Mrs. Moor’s house. She is an unpleasant woman, and I’ve been wondering how to stop being her lodger since the day I arrived.
It is unfortunate that I don’t seem able to earn enough money to afford living anywhere else, as the new Lord of the Nocturne Court set me up here and is, apparently, supplementing my room and board. No matter how many additional hours of work I take on, my money never stretches far enough. It doesn’t help that I do struggle a little to understand how financing an acceptable pair of shoes costs so much. I’m used to getting the finest garments without even needing to ask for them, as I represent my family.
Or used to.
The back of my neck burns as I open the door with a key and enter the house as quietly as I can. Mrs. Moor is almost always asleep past midnight, but she insists on sleeping with her bedroom door open and can be awoken by even the faintest noise. Sweat is already beading on my back as I use both my hands to lock up and then remove my outside shoes. She always insists I use slippers inside, but I am not risking any footwear so late and climb the stairs holding them in one hand.
I’m relieved to hear her snore, because the last thing I need tonight is getting berated about my rent being late. How can she not understand that I will only receive payment at the end of the week? It’s unreasonable for her to treat me this way, yet what am I now if not a pauper, lucky he isn’t forced to sleep in the streets?
All my skills in alchemy, potions, and powders, are irrelevant in this world, and every day I am reminded of how little I know.
With a sigh of relief, I close the door of my room behind me and turn on the light. It’s what the man selling it to me out of his garage called a ‘lava lamp’. It cost me a whole dollar and fifty cents, but I couldn’t resist its green and yellow glow that so reminds me of swamplight. Sometimes, I sit at night and watch it, amazed by the moving bubbles.
I make sure my surroundings are tidy, because Mrs. Moor likes to do unexpected checks, but everything is as I left it. The room is smaller than my former housemaster’s closet, but beggars may not be choosers. I have a reasonably comfortable bed, a desk, and a wardrobe, each piece of furniture in a different color. No embroidered canopy, not a single sculpture, and no intriguing taxidermy on the walls.