“No, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m not sure which one…they’re all pretty.”
“Tf you don’t mind me saying,” Mary interjected, “But the blue would go beautifully with your hair and your eyes. The color would bring out your skin tone too.” Mary’s voice got soft and low at the end, like she was embarrassed of her own opinion.
“No, I think you’re right,” I said, eyeing the blue dress, “I like that one. Pll wear that.” I could see Mary’s beaming smile from the corner of my eyes, (2 “Would you like me to do your hair and makeup, Your Grace?”
“Yes, please. I’m pretty hopeless at anything that’s not a ponytail or mascara.”
I settled into the chair in front of the vanity as Mary gathered an impressive supply of makeup and hair care products. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that Griffin had even supplied makeup and hair stuff, but I was. The man had thought of everything-like he was ensuring there would never be a reason for me to leave.
“Your hair is so beautiful,” Mary murmured as she brushed through. She was a lot gentler than I ever was with my hair, and surprisingly, it didn’t turn frizzy and chaotic under her touch. For once, my hair seemed to obey.
“Thank you.”
“You must feel so special,” Mary continued, “To be the King’s mate. That is an honor that every young female werewolf wishes, even those with ranks like mine.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. I knew Mary was right, but it was odd to hear how about how “lucky” I must be to have an honor I didn’t even want. I didn’t feel special. I felt incredibly misplaced.
I didn’t bother saying all of that to Mary though. Instead, I just nodded and tried to muster up a smile that didn’t look so awkward.
I expected the conversation to end there but Mary continued. “I’m glad you’re here now. I won’t have to hear the other castle girls gossip about the King any longer. It becomes very tedious very quickly.”
“Gossip about the King?”
“There are some girls in the castle,” Mary explained, “That think they’re special. Like you. They know they aren’t the
King’s mate, but if he showed them just a night of attention, they would begin to daydream. They’d brag that the King likes them and they may be the next Queen.”
I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to read in-between the lines. A “night of attention” from Griffin was a one-nightstand, and he’d clearly had plenty of them with the “castle girls.” I wasn’t sure why that made me upset-I knew that
Griffin was no virgin before me-but I still felt jealousy bubbling in my chest. It was one thing to know it and another to hear about it.
And to think he was all over my case about Aiden. Meanwhile, he was just whoring himself around the castle. Where does he get off being jealous about one guy I made out with a few times while he was making his way through the castle?
Mary must’ve picked up on my sour mood because she immediately tried to backtrack. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” she said, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, “I did not mean to upset you…I spoke out of turn. I forgot myself. I should not have been discussing your mate’s, or my King’s, past…ventures like that.” “You can be honest with me,” I told her, jealousy still bubbling beneath the surface. Part of me knew I should just change the subject but now that she’d opened this can of worms, I wanted to know. “Was he…popular with the castle girls?”
She hesitated. “Just a few,” Mary said, lowering her gaze, “Only a few that I know of. Most of his ventures that I heard about were with pretty diplomats and ambassadors that visited the castle. Or that’s what the gossip was-I’m so sorry,
Your Majesty. It was not my place to talk about this.” She continued to stammer out apologies as she fixed my hair and makeup but they fell on deaf ears.
As much as I wanted to pretend that I was above jealousy, especially past jealousy, I couldn’t stop picturing Griffin with other women. Ethereally beautiful women like Mary. One thing was for sure-I was starting this date out ina sour mood.
“It is not love that is blind, but jealousy.” I
Lawrence Durrell
By the time that Griffin arrived at the suite to pick me up, decked out in a dark blue shirt and dress pants, I tried to swallow down my jealousy. This was supposed to be a fresh start for us, and I didn’t want to start it with conflict.
Especially with something that I knew wasn’t actually his fault but my own irrational feelings. Whatever Griffin had done in the past was his business, not mine.
Not that he was considerate when he grilled me about my past S**ual experiences.
It took a few deep breaths to shove the thought from my mind, but eventually, I was able to plaster a smile on my face and look excited to see him.
“You look gorgeous, little fox,” he said, dark eyes roving over me. There was a hungry look in his eyes, like he wanted to eat me alive.
“as do you,” I replied. He did look good; I couldn’t deny that. The blue of his shirt matched my dress, and for a moment, I wondered if Mary’s opinion about the blue dress hadn’t been planned. Griffin matching me couldn’t have been a coincidence.
Griffin didn’t outwardly acknowledge my praise but I could tell it pleased him by the way his posture straightened and his face relaxed.
God, is it that easy for me to read him? Is it just because of the mate bond that it feels like I can tell what he’s thinking or because I’ve spent so much time in confined spaces with him?
“Come, little fox,” he said, “I’ve had one of the dining rooms prepared for us. I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”
At the mention of food, my stomach grumbled and Griffin smirked. “Well, that answers my question.”
It took almost all of my self-control not to bite back that being drugged hadn’t exactly given me time to eat.
Fresh start. Remember, Clark? You’re trying to accept the mate bond here.
So, instead, I just said, “Food sounds delicious.”
We walked to the dining room in comfortable silence and I tried not to let the elaborate twists and turns disorient me. I suppose I’d have to learn this place sooner or later, but not right now.
When we did finally make it to the dining room, the elaborate marble and gold decorative fixtures hardly surprised me.
I’d been in enough rooms at the castle to know that most, if not all of them, were too extravagant.
Griffin pulled my chair out for me and I smiled. This wooden table was much smaller than anything I’d sat at before.
Instead of Griffin sitting across from me, he was beside me. Close enough to touch. Close enough that I could feel his warmth.
No sooner than we’d sat down did another door to the room open, two young girls carrying serving dishes. Even in kitchen uniforms, they were just as stunningly beautiful as Mary had been. Big, doe eyes, shiny hair, and long legs.
For a moment, I wondered if Griffin had ever given these girls a “night of attention,” to use Mary’s phrase. They were certainly beautiful and young enough to catch anyone’s eye, maybe even Griffin’s.
“Your Majesties,” the first girl spoke, her voice soft and tinkly, “The chef has prepared chicken pot pie as instructed.” She set down two plates in front of us, revealing steaming, large pot pies.
“Comfort food isn’t what the castle is used to preparing,” Griffin said, looking at me, “But I figured you’d like something a little more filling and less showy.”
I smiled at him, my grumbling stomach begging me to take a bite. “Well, you guessed right. I’m definitely a comfort food kind of girl.”
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