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“How’s the book? Do you like it?” asked Rosanna while munching on a square of dark chocolate.
“I didn’t get to read much yesterday. I managed two chapters before dinner.”
“Oh, such a shame. The first few chapters aren’t that good. It gets more interesting later.”
“I bet it does. So far, it doesn’t seem as exciting as ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’, and I really dislike Jane.”
“It’s impossible not to hate Jane Boleyn. I think she was written with that exact purpose in mind. By the end of the book, however, I felt more pity than hate for her. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
Avelyn smiled and took her time to study the beautiful blonde. Rosanna was wearing a cute dress with a generous cleavage that emphasized the swell of her round breasts. The skirt stopped right above her knees, but her leather boots turned the seductive effect into a rather playful, tomboyish one. Avelyn looked at the girl’s bare shoulders, and pulled her scarf tighter over her chest and arms. It was a chilly morning, and she really envied the werewolves’ fast metabolism, which kept them comfortably warm even in the coldest weather. She saw Christine coming out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with two cups, a pretty teapot, and a plate of homemade biscuits.
“Good morning!” Avelyn greeted her in a cheerful voice.
“Hey, Christine,” said Rosanna.
“Good morning to you, girls! So, what’s the newest gossip?”
“Oh, now, we weren’t gossiping,” answered the blonde. “We were just talking about ‘The Boleyn Inheritance’.”
“That awful novel by Philippa Gregory? I can’t believe you’re still reading those books. You know they’re not real history, right?”
“Whatever. At least they’re fun to read. History isn’t.”
Christine poured the tea.
“What about you, Miss Avelyn? Do you like these kinds of books?”
“They’re enjoyable. I read them for the romance, really.”
“I guess that’s acceptable.” She gave each girl her cup, and placed the biscuits in the middle of the small table. “You haven’t forgotten to take your medicine these days, I presume.”
Avelyn stole a quick glance at Rosanna, who had her nose stuck in her cup and was inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine. “No, of course not.”
“What medicine? Are you ill?”
“No. Miss Avelyn has had some headaches, and I’ve prepared an herbal mixture for her.”
Rosanna huffed. “I’d have headaches too if I were stuck between four walls with nothing to keep me company but books. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love books. But confinement? Not my thing, no sir.”
Avelyn didn’t say anything. She raised the cup to her lips, blew into the hot tea, and took a small sip.
“I’ll leave you two to talk. Have fun, and if you need anything, I’m in the kitchen.”
Rosanna waited for Christine to be out of sight, and leaned closer to Avelyn over the table. “Also, only the idea of seeing that old hag every day would give me headaches. I hope you’re better now. Are you better?” She seemed genuinely concerned about Avelyn’s health, which threw Avelyn off guard. The girl was full of contradictions. And hyper. She was so hyper all the time that it made Avelyn feel tired.
“Much better, thank you. Christine is not so bad. She kept me company, and was really nice to me.”
“Hah! Don’t fall for that shit. I’m telling you, there’s something fishy about her.”
“I’d say there’s something fishier about you,” thought Avelyn, but made sure to give Rosanna a pleasant smile.
“I’m not sure why she’s here anymore. Sure, every pack needs an elder, but Christine is ancient. There are at least three other old hags who could take her place anytime. I always thought she should have followed Max’s dad in the Alps when he left. They were inseparable. I’d go as far as to say they had a thing. You know? I think Nikolas Blackmane loved Christine more than he loved any of his three wives. And that’s disgusting, because Christine practically raised him. And then she raised his children. This family is fucked up.” Rosanna emphasized her conclusion with a quick arch of her brows, and reached for a biscuit.
“In the Alps? I didn’t know Max’s father is still alive.”
“I don’t know for sure either. I guess the children know. When an Alpha reaches a certain age and he feels he’s too old to rule, he leaves his pack to his heir and retreats somewhere in the wilderness to live the last years of his life in solitude.”
“Interesting. I didn’t know that.”
