Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Kara,” he starts with a firm voice. “There are things you’re going to have to get used to. What would make the transition easiest for you?” There’s no compromise in his voice and he looks back at me expectantly.
A beat passes and then another of me standing at the end of the bed and him waiting for me to obey. To give in. To do as he says and be his perfect little pet. “I’m not sure anything would make having strangers wait on me any easier. I don’t feel—”
“Would you like it if you knew them better so they weren’t strangers?” he questions, interrupting me. His patience is infuriating.
My tone is a little harder. “I’d like it if I could just do these things myself.”
His tone remains even as he answers, “I will consider it. As far as going into town, you’ll be doing that. I need for you to get used to your surroundings. I’ve been told the best way for a woman to do that is to shop with other women.” His words hit me in a weak spot of insecurity. I wonder how many women have done this. My cheeks flame. How many are still in this castle? Drago interrupts my thoughts with a question. “What’s got you so upset?”
Everything in me is telling me to hide my insecurity, to leave this issue alone, yet my mouth opens and the words fall out. With my hands trembling, I dare to question, “How many women have you made your pet?” Anxious heat flows through my body as he motions for me to sit once again.
“Come and we can talk about these things over food.”
“I’m not sure I’m hungry,” I tell him and in that moment my body betrays me. My stomach growls and I’m instantly embarrassed. “Sit,” he commands me, and I decide to obey, forcing myself to sit at the head of the bed with him.
He passes the plate to me and tells me to eat. I obey, opting for a tart raspberry as I stare at him and wait for his response. It’s delicious. Of course it is. Everything is divine here and none of this is truly meant for me.
Drago inhales deeply as he cuts up the meat on his plate. Finally he offers a response, “I’m much older than you treasure, and I doubt you’d like the answer.”
That’s an acceptable answer, I suppose. But I continue my questioning, “How many that still live here?”
His brow arches as he pauses his cutting to question me, “Is that what you’re worried about?”
“Yes,” I answer without taking a single breath. “I want to know.”
His voice softens and he leans down to kiss my cheek. “None. It’s been a very long time since I’ve wanted a woman.”
The relief is notable at simply knowing there isn’t anyone else. I allow that information to sink in.
My brow furrows with curiosity, “Men?”
He smirks at me. “No. No one, for a very long time.”
“So, there’s only me.”
He nods, adding, “It is only us.” His words do something to me I can’t describe.
“Tea?” He offers a cup to me I hadn’t seen, and I gratefully take it.
“Thank you.”
The silence between us is easy as we both eat. Just like last night, everything is delicious. I watch as he taps the bone spoon against the shell and eats his egg. And then another and another. It’ll take him all damn day to eat breakfast the way he is.
“Do you usually have all this for breakfast?” I can’t imagine he gets a thing done if he does.
“Usually a mountain of red meat. I like steak. A lot of steak. All day.” I have to laugh at his straightforward admission.
“Then why all this?” I gesture to the tray and our plates.
He peers at me with a look in his eyes as if I should know. “I wanted you to have a nice breakfast.” I swallow down the sip of hot tea and smile back at him. All of those emotions going back and forth settle down if for no other reason than that I’m grateful.
Just as the fluttering in my chest picks up again and threatens to have me overthinking everything, a knock at the door interrupts us. My eyes widen as I realize I’m not at all decent.
“One minute.” Drago calls out with a deep baritone voice. He moves quickly from the bed to the pile of clothes and pulls out a light blush nightie that seems to be made of tiny pieces sewn together like petals of a flower. It’s nicer than any dress I’ve ever worn.
“Wear this,” he tells me, handing me the delicate clothing, and I’m taken aback by how soft it is. It’s luxurious for a simple night gown. It slips on easily enough, loose yet hugs my curves in a way that’s elegant, and stops just above my knees in the front yet longer in the back. I’m so enthralled with the gown, I’m caught off guard when Drago opens the door.