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Master Bow brought Wesley back to the mirror. “You look very handsome. We can base the measurements of the rest of your outfits from this jacket. I think any of our ladies will be quite pleased to have you on their dance cards, especially the duchess. Are you hungry?”
Wesley’s belly growled loudly, earning a laugh from Master Bow. “Then it’s a good thing dinner is served. I’d be honored if you joined the countess and me for a meal.”
The clothes felt strange against his fur as he followed Master Bow out of the room. The Hall was massive, ornately furnished, and Wesley should feel at home in a stately manor such as this. But a piece of him missed the woods, and his tiny, dirty den.
More accurately, he missed the thrill of a surprise Phillipa sighting, but hopefully that would be remedied in a few days with her arrival at the Ball.
His heart thrummed in his chest, and his cock hardened at the thought of her in a ball gown. He needed to be careful, for these breeches accentuated the area.
If he would successfully win back his wife, he needed to pay more attention to his surroundings.
“…And that’s how Countess Stalbridge came to own Broadstone Hall.” Master Bow had been talking, presumably about the history of the Hall, for the entire trip, and he’d missed almost all of it. Some predator he was.
The countess sat at the head of the table and Wesley looked at Master Bow. Society dinners were a puzzle of rank, and although he’d been a duke as a human, he’d declared himself a king as a wolven.
Made things a tad more complicated.
Master Bow motioned to the seat to the right of the countess, and he took the seat to her left. Servants began bringing out the first course.
“You’re looking rather handsome if I do say so myself, Your Majesty,” The countess said as she picked up her spoon. “I gather that Master Bow has you feeling at home here at Broadstone Hall?”
“I’m very glad His Grace joined us early,” Master Bow said. “The wolven is rough around the edges, but that’s just how we like them.”
Wesley didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to pick up with spoon with his paw. It didn’t work in the same way as fingers, and he couldn’t get a secure grip on the utensil. Once he was confident he had it in his grip, he dropped it into the bowl, splashing soup onto his brand new jacket.
“Oh, dear,” Master Bow lamented.
Wesley’s stomach rumbled again. He was too hungry for things like patience and formal manners. What use had they been to him as a wolven? Gasps broke out in the room as he stuck his snout into the soup bowl.
And it was delicious. A white soup, heavy on the veal and cream. He could taste every ingredient, from the almond paste to the rice. How he had missed human food.
He licked the bowl clean and rubbed the soup splatter into his jacket and the tablecloth with his napkin. Soup was everywhere. For a moment, his snout burned with shame. How would he ever convince Phillipa that a life with a wolven king could be possible when he ate like an animal?
A rumble rolled through his body.To be king, to truly claim her, you must let go of the longing to be human. Embrace the wolven instinct.
No. He wouldn’t give up. He closed his eyes for a long blink. Phillipa greeted him there, like she often did. But this time, he was wolven, and he was about to feast on the sweet flesh between her thighs…
When he opened his eyes, he found the countess and master watching him, but they didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t apologize. After all, they’d asked him to embrace his monstrous side.
As the other courses came out, he didn’t even try to use the utensils. He hungrily ate his fill of game and roasted vegetables, his compliments to the chef, with little room for conversation.
“My, what a good appetite,” Master Bow said.
“Hungry.”
“We’ll work on the utensil use in the next few days, but you wouldn’t be the first monster not to use them. We do try to teach you so it’s easier on the ladies.” He rose from the table. “What was your favorite dance with Phillipa?”
“Waltz.” He’d loved how daring she was, how she hadn’t been afraid to participate, even when those standing on the sidelines whispered.
Master Bow raised his eyebrows. The waltz was a scandalous dance, usually only performed at private house parties.
“You will be pleased to learn that we love waltzes at Broadstone Hall. I hope you won’t be scandalized by practicing it with me.”
“No.” Soon he’d be asleep in that big, comfortable bed, with the fire burning, cock in hand, dreaming about dancing with Phillipa. If he inhaled deeply enough, he’d be able to smell the vanilla on her skin.
And this time, he might not even be human in the dream. His beast was ready for her. But would she be ready for the Wolven King?
ChapterFour
