Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
As if the likeness of her uneasy eyes will explain why she cursed generations of women.
What an absurd thought.
A curse!
I mentally scoff, writing the idea off as an excuse used by men for their unjustifiable behavior. An excuse that spans centuries.
And yet the allure of Evangeline’s eyes draw me back in, and I take a step closer. There’s something magnetic about her, and it sends a chill down my back. Is there a curse hidden in the tilt of her lips? A spell cast long ago to wreak havoc on all future queens of Zodiac Island?
Was this her way of punishing the descendants of the men who wronged her? By making generation after generation fall in love with a queen, only to have to share her every month?
If the legend of Evangeline’s curse is true, it’s pure genius in cruelty. Insanity in design. Maybe she really did go mad, locked away in that tower with no way to escape.
And maybe I’ve been in this circular hell for too long that I’m going mad as well.
The clicking of heels against marble draws my attention, and I glance in the opposite direction of the ballroom. A woman materializes from the shadows, her raven hair as sleek as the silk red-wine gown hugging her voluptuous curves.
“Quite the eye-catcher, isn’t she?” the woman says, nodding at the portrait of Evangeline Castle.
Surprised by her casual, familiar tone, I blink. “Yes, she’s stunning.” I study the woman at my side, shuffling through the many faces I saw during dinner, but hers isn’t among them. “I don’t believe I saw you in there. Are you only now arriving?”
“I like to make an entrance.”
Her attire will certainly do the job.
“Your dress is gorgeous. Who designed it?”
“You wouldn’t know him. He designs for me exclusively.” The upward tilt of her chin prods at my irritation. There’s a haughty air about her I don’t like.
“And you are?” she asks, smoothing her long hair over one shoulder.
“Novalee Van Buren.”
“The queen?” Incredulity laces her question. She sends an assessing glance down my body, the purse of her red lips doing nothing to hide her snub.
“Yes, I’m the queen.” If she notices my frosty tone, she doesn’t show it. I hold her bold, green gaze. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
The music stops, and someone speaks into a microphone about the charity auction, which begins in an hour. The mystery woman in red stares past me to the movement of bodies entering the ballroom.
“Because we haven’t.” She raises a perfectly arched brow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m late to the party.” She struts off in her stilettos, long hair swaying from the motion of her hips, and I can’t help but gape at her rudeness.
Taking a few minutes to calm down, I return to the ballroom just as the music resumes. A few guests linger over after-dinner drinks at the round tables set up on the left side of the room. The right side is open for dancing, and I spy Landon and Elise in a tight embrace on the floor, surrounded by other couples. Three sets of French doors stand open so guests can venture into the gardens, enjoying the late spring air.
But there’s no sign of the raven-haired woman, and I’m beginning to think I imagined her when Liam sweeps in and takes my hand.
“Dance with me?”
The rules have changed for the night of the ball. He can’t kiss me, but he can pull me close and put his hands on me in the name of dancing. So can the eleven other men in this tower, and some of them do. A man with sandy blond hair steals me from Liam’s arms.
“Are you enjoying the ball?” he asks, settling his palm on my back. I recall him sitting to Sebastian’s left at the monthly dinners.
“I am, thank you.” An awkward sense of shyness takes over me. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“No need to apologize, my queen. It’s Miles.”
From the House of Virgo.
As he ushers me across the floor with ease, his movements graceful fluidity, I wonder if he’s as pure as his sign implies. The haunting strains of the violin falter, and the tempo changes.
Miles passes me off to Vance.
“Only a week to go,” he murmurs, pulling me tight against his chest.
I scan the ballroom, on the lookout for Sebastian, since I haven’t spotted him since I returned after dinner, but he’s nowhere to be found. Neither is the mystery woman, and for reasons I can’t pinpoint, that bothers me.
“Sebastian said the two of you made a deal,” I say, forcing my gaze on the man in front of me.
He dips his chin. “We did.”
“Do you mind if I ask what he gave you in return for my…?” I can’t utter the words.
A slow smile plays on his lips. “Your anal virginity?”