by Amanda Jones
When she felt Max’s hands on her shoulders, Avelyn’s first instinct was to pull back. His eyes pinned her in place, the fresh smell of his cologne enveloped her, and she realized she had no energy to move. She was melting under his gaze, and his sweet breath burned her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. His hands traveled up to her neck, and his thumbs gently caressed her chin. She saw him switching his gaze to her lips, and she thought that he would kiss her, but, instead, he buried his head in the crook of her neck. She was taken by surprise, and she felt her skin prickle, her nipples getting hard, and her dress becoming damp with her juices where it was trapped between her pantyless folds and the windowsill.
Max inhaled the rich smell of her hair and skin, a mix of shampoo, green grass, and slightly sour perspiration. It was intoxicating, and it urged him to kiss her neck. She moaned deep in her throat, and the sound made his cock painfully hard. He sucked lightly on her neck, tasting the skin and wanting more. His hands went down her arms, reached her hips, and rested there, relishing the heat her body was sending through the thin material of her dress. He felt her breathing heavily, and the smell of her wetness threw him off guard, making him squeeze the flesh of her hip.
Avelyn’s world was spinning. She had never been so aroused, and she had never thought her own body could betray her like that. Her palms were itching to touch him, any part of him, and she couldn’t decide what she wanted more: to spread her fingers on his strong chest, or to sneak her hands behind him to cup the butt she had admired in the morning. She fought against what her body begged her to do, and placed her sweaty palms on his hands, feeling his fingers digging even deeper into her skin. She held them there for a moment, enjoying the possessive kisses and licks he was administering to her neck, and then she made an effort to remove his hands and pull away.
“No.” The word almost got caught in her throat, but she knew he heard her.
He drew back, his head down, struggling to compose himself. It was unbelievable what this woman could do to him. Max had never felt so powerless in front of anyone, and, for a second, he was angry with himself. He could fake an indifferent smile and calm his trembling fingers, but there was no way he could hide the bulge in his jeans. He turned away and started to mess with the papers scattered on the desk. He lifted one of them, but had no idea what he was looking at. His vision was a blur. A blur of red hair, blue eyes, and white skin.
Avelyn touched her neck, then forced herself to snap out of it, and jumped off the sill. “What the hell did just happen?” She could still feel his burning kisses on her skin, and she was sure her dress had a huge, damp spot at the back. Even worse, she could swear he was able to smell it. After all, he was a werewolf and all his abilities were heightened. “Delyse. Joanna Thorne. Italy. Delyse. Joanna Thorne. Italy.” It was like a mantra in her head.
“I’m sorry, but I truly find your theory about tragic love stories pathetic.” Avelyn rounded the desk and stopped in front of Max, her back straight and her head held high. “It has become a badly done cliché, and I keep getting the impression that people don’t understand what classic love stories are, in fact, about. Take ‘Romeo and Juliet’, for instance. That is not a love story, it is a story about bad parenting.” She was trying to find other relevant examples, but she couldn’t come up with any. Her brain was still busy processing what had happened on the windowsill, and her fingers were still itching to touch Max. She tried to keep her eyes on his face, as she was painfully aware of how his tight jeans were outlining his hard cock. There was a small voice at the back of her mind screaming that she wouldn’t get another chance and she’d later regret it. She shunned it.
“So, what you’re saying is…”
“What I’m saying is that you’re wasting my time, and yours as well.” Avelyn wasn’t about to let him sweet-talk her again. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think 20 minutes were more than enough for you to get an impression of… whatever you were looking for when you summoned me here.”
“Indeed.” Avelyn’s words had the effect of a cold shower on Max, and now he was looking at her half confused, half annoyed. “But are you sure this is the impression you want to leave?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“This…” He didn’t know what to tell her, so he stopped. How could he explain what he felt? He didn’t know himself. He felt anger, disbelief, rejection. Yes, that was it. He felt rejected, and it was something new to him. It gave him a disturbing feeling of inadequacy and insufficiency. The fact that he had allowed her to see how much he was attracted to her didn’t help the situation at all. Max hated himself for showing such weakness in front of a woman who had only let him talk, pretended to be interested, and then dismissed everything, dismissed him, with just a few words.
“Yes…?” Avelyn encouraged him to finish his sentence.
“You know why I asked for you to be brought here.”
“No, actually, I have no idea. I belong to House Vulpes, and if I know how things work around here, you shouldn’t have even had the House Vulpes catalog on your desk.”
“That is why this morning you said you’re not the one I was looking for…” He couldn’t help feeling like a fool.
“And I still believe it.”
There was no way he could reply to that, and he knew she wasn’t waiting for a reply. She had made a statement. Clear and simple. The disappointment was greater because he had been thinking about her the whole day, during his discussion with the headmistress and the interviews with Delyse and the other two Lupi girls. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but certainly not this outcome. The other girls had been at least professional and polite, if they didn’t show they were interested. He hadn’t expected an Alma Venus student, educated to become a shifter bride, to be so adamant, defiant, and sometimes downright rude. Not even a future fox-bride. He was starting to think this was all a mistake, something that shouldn’t have happened. There was no point in allowing it to continue.
“I see.” He rearranged the papers on the desk.
“Yes.”
“Then, I think this is all. Thank you for your assistance.”
“Of course,” she said, and took some steps back, not ready to turn around and leave. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, busy with his papers. She had to turn and walk away. It was the right thing to do. “I wish you a nice day.” She hesitated a second more. “And I hope the bride you choose today will prove to be the right one.”
“Thank you,” he said without lifting his eyes.
Avelyn finally turned around and left the office. She moved fast and confidently, not allowing herself any second thoughts. She closed the door behind her.
It was the right thing to do.
CHAPTER THREE
Sold
Looking at her own picture next to which was written the name Joanna Thorne was the only thing that made Avelyn feel better. She was sitting on the edge of her bed and studying the information under the name. Born May 15, 1990. Father Joseph Thorne, mother Angelica Thorne. Angelica… She didn’t know what her real mother’s name was, and she didn’t care much either. As a child, she had been curious about her origins, especially about her own real name. But this information was kept secret at Alma Venus, the policy saying that once a young girl came to live and study here, her past was erased. The only exceptions were the Donations, such as Delyse. Avelyn had always envied Delyse for knowing those small details which told her who she was and where she came from. The first time she called her best friend by the name her parents had given her, Lily, was also the last one. Avelyn didn’t understand why Delyse threw such a tantrum over the issue, and only after she pressed her long enough did the girl tell her that she didn’t want to think what her life would have been like if her father hadn’t donated her to the institution. She had adopted the name Delyse the moment she had been brought to Alma Venus and Miss Delacroix had suggested it to her. Avelyn hadn’t had the chance to say “yes” or “no” to her new na
me because she had only been 8 months old when her mother had sold her to the school, so she also envied Delyse for having spent the first 8 years of her life with her parents and elder brother. Later, she reconsidered these things and realized she was better off not knowing her family, her mother’s name, and even her own. Putting the ID back in the bag underneath her bed, she thought of how she would erase her past for the second time the moment she would take the name of Joanna Thorne.
Delyse got out of the bathroom and rushed to dry her hair and get dressed. Avelyn had been waiting for her to finish her shower so they could both go downstairs for dinner. The girl’s mood was much improved now, after Avelyn came back and told her not to worry because Maxwell Blackmane had no intention of choosing her. His best option was Delyse, and he knew it. She was sure that her rude, monosyllabic answers had convinced him he had made a mistake by calling her for an interview. She mentioned nothing about what had happened on the windowsill because she genuinely thought there was no need for Delyse to know those details. Max would choose her beautiful, gracious friend, and whatever had been between them in those suspended moments in time didn’t even matter. When Delyse was ready, they rushed to the cafeteria because neither of them had eaten much during the day. Too many emotions, surprises, and tense moments had cut their appetite.
They had just sat down at the table with their trays of food when Miss Delacroix’s secretary interrupted them. Delyse gave her a trembling smile and folded her hands in her lap, unable to touch the food until she would hear what the woman had to tell her. Avelyn winked at her friend, then stuck her fork into a piece of chicken, paying no mind to the middle-aged lady.
“Hello, Miss Jones. How are you doing?”
“Very well, Delyse, thank you.” The secretary returned Delyse’s smile, obviously pleased by the girl’s politeness. “Avelyn, Miss Delacroix needs you in her office right away.”
Avelyn chocked on her morsel, and Delyse’s smile faltered.
“I’m sorry,” said Avelyn after she managed to swallow the chicken. “I’m pretty sure you mean she wants to see Delyse, not me.”
“No, young lady, she wants to see you. Come on now, it’s urgent. You’ll eat afterwards.”
Avelyn set her fork down, took a sip of water, and stood up to follow Miss Jones. “It’s ok,” she told Delyse. “It probably has nothing to do with you-know-who. See you in a few minutes.”
On the way to Miss Delacroix’s office, Avelyn kept wondering what the school principal could have wanted with her. Maybe Blackmane had complained about the interview and she was in for a lecture. Miss Jones sat back at her desk, and Avelyn went into the office.
“Good evening. Did you want to see me?”
“Yes, Avelyn, please have a seat.”
The girl sat down and waited patiently for the headmistress to finish with the report she was filling in. The woman finally signed it, then leaned back in her chair and gave Avelyn a bright smile.
“Congratulations!”
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Maxwell Blackmane has just signed the contract and made the transfer. He was in a hurry because his pilot was waiting to fly him to London, so he didn’t get the chance to give you the news himself.”
Weird colors started dancing before Avelyn’s eyes and she couldn’t understand why. Was it because she hadn’t eaten all day except for Miss Potts’ cookies? The second she asked herself this question she realized she didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“What? I… I don’t…”
“Yes, Mr. Blackmane decided to buy you.”
A weak “no” died on Avelyn’s lips, and Miss Delacroix didn’t seem to have heard it. She continued talking about the contract, the negotiation, and then she probably continued with what it meant to be the bride of a werewolf, how privileged she was, and what responsibilities would fall on her shoulders, but Avelyn couldn’t concentrate on any of her words. Hundreds of thoughts were running through her mind as the school principal went on with her speech. They were so many, crashing against each other and becoming so tangled that she was unable to focus on any of them. “What about Delyse? This must be a mistake. No. No, no, no. What about Italy, my bakery? My freedom?” And that’s where all of them led. Freedom. “That idiot, that son of a…” She felt like crying. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt like the sip of water she had drunk just before coming to the office was threatening to spill out her mouth, right on Miss Delacroix’s papers. She gulped heavily and tried to find her voice.
“Wait, stop.”
“… only some minor details that need to be established, and then you can be on your way. Mr. Blackmane will be…”
“I said stop!” Avelyn jumped off the chair and flung it to the other side of the room in one swift motion. Miss Delacroix stopped mid-sentence, but didn’t show any sign that the girl’s violent gesture had scared her. At most, she was annoyed.
“This isn’t right. How could you sign the contract and sell me like that without even letting me know? Without asking for my opinion? Like I was a piece of meat you were eager to get rid of? And how could he make the decision without consulting me? Has he even considered that I don’t want him? That I’d say ‘no’?”
The school principal sighed, and in that moment, if she had paid attention, Avelyn would have seen a sign of resignation mixed with just a bit of compassion on the woman’s face.
“Avelyn, I can’t believe that after so many years you still refuse to understand how things work. Maxwell Blackmane asking you for your opinion? You don’t know what you’re talking about, child. He will get what he wants, and neither you, nor I would ever be able to convince him to do otherwise. Because this man’s choices are not up for discussion, and you’d better learn that fast for your own good.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying that he’d go as far as to force me to do something I don’t want to?”
“I don’t have to say it. You belong to him now, it’s implied.”
“Bullshit!”
“Avelyn…”
“No, you listen to me. This is bullshit and I won’t stand for it. I don’t belong to anyone. I will not marry Blackmane and there’s nothing he can do about it. We don’t live in the fucking Medieval Ages when women had no power over their own future.”
Miss Delacroix had had enough of Avelyn’s tantrum. She was never a patient person to begin with. “Watch your language, young lady, and listen to me closely.” She rose from her office chair, placed her palms firmly on the desk and leaned over it to fix Avelyn’s face with her cold, gray eyes. “This whole thing is, indeed, wrong, but not for the petty reasons you’ve so generously shared. It is wrong because it should have been Delyse, not you. Tomorrow, I’ll have to schedule a meeting with her father and explain this mess to him, convince him that it wasn’t the girl’s fault and assure him that she’ll catch a bigger fish in the as-near-as-possible future. I have no idea how that will happen, but there you go. It is also wrong because you’re complaining about it when you should thank the heavens that someone finally considered you worthy enough to take into their home, feed you and protect you, and not let you rot on the streets or in a shifter brothel where no one would have ever given a damn if you preferred foxes, dragons, bears, or wolves. I do wonder sometimes if Blackmane hasn’t chosen you only because he realized that you’re too old to be allowed to live here for much longer and he felt sorry for you. It’s wrong because he’s the most important client to have set foot on the grounds of Alma Venus in the past ten years, and the only thing we apparently had to offer him was a whiny little vixen who can’t sing, can’t dance, or cook, and who has never appreciated what this institution has done for her.”
Avelyn made a feeble attempt to stop her. She was trying to hold back her tears.
“No, let me finish. Your mother sold you to us when you were 8 months old. What do you think would have become of you if I hadn’t accepted to take you in? You would have ended up begging on the streets, eating rotten potatoes and mold
y bread. Later, you’d have ended up selling your body at street corners to filthy human workers because no shifter, let alone an Alpha, would have ever looked your way. Have you thought about all that? Do you think your mother would have ever sent you to school, would have taught you how to read and write? I doubt that she herself could read the letters. And how did you show your appreciation for everything we’ve done for you, for all the money we spent on your education? You decided to get fat. Skip classes and get as fat as possible.”
Avelyn wasn’t sure she could take it anymore. She eyed the door and thought about running to her room and burying her face in a pillow where she could cry her pain away until the whole world faded and she fell asleep.
“Do you really think I haven’t considered the possibility that you were doing it on purpose? Do you think I haven’t thought of the fact that you might be sabotaging your own interviews, as few as they were, so that any interested shifter would refuse to buy you even at a smaller price? I have no idea what was in your mind, and, frankly, I don’t care anymore. What matters is that someone has finally bought you, at a very good price, mind you, and you’re able to pay Alma Venus back. You should be grateful.”
Miss Delacroix made a small pause to breathe. Avelyn’s face was beet red and her whole body was trembling, her hands squeezed into fists at her sides. She couldn’t trust her voice to speak.
“Now, here is what you’re going to do,” the headmistress continued. “You’ll go to your room, take a shower, make sure your luggage is ready for tomorrow morning, and say goodbye to all your friends. Try to get a good night’s sleep because Mr. Blackmane will be here tomorrow before noon, and then you’ll have a busy day. All right, Avelyn?”
