Page 98 of Craved By a Wolf

“You must be so excited,” a pretty young brunette said as she buffed Hella’s skin raw with a sponge, making her legs sting beneath the far-too-hot water in the large bathing pool.

“To be chosen to be queen. It is quite the honour.” A black-haired beauty with bright blue eyes jabbed Hella beneath her fingernails with a stick.

She snatched her hand back before the woman could torture her some more. “Really, all this fuss isn’t necessary.”

The mistress yanked on her hair again, her voice sweet. “Oh, but it is. What the king desires, is what the king is given. His orders were very clear.”

“I don’t think his orders entailed torturing me.” She fended off the female with the stick and nudged the brunette with her bare foot, pushing her away. “Really, I’m quite clean.”

She stood, trying not to be embarrassed as she rose from the water and the suds rolled down her naked skin. None of the trio tried to make her sit back down, which was a relief. She turned towards the steps out of the huge bathing pool, and the black-haired one took hold of her arm, gripping it just tightly enough that she left red marks on Hella’s skin when she had finishedhelpingher up the steps and released her.

Hella was tempted to offer them a deal, but her gut said they wouldn’t take it. They clearly liked their positions within Ethyrian’s harem and while helping her escape would mean he didn’t have a queen to replace them with, it also meant they would probably be killed by him in a fit of rage.

The mistress led her into the adjoining bedroom, to a white dressing table that had a large mirror attached to it and a lot of jewellery laid out on the top.

Hella slumped into the chair and tried to be on her best behaviour as the white-haired female came to stand beside her and worked to undo her right cuff. She focused on her fingers as the shackle opened and fell away from her wrist. Not even the faintest tingle. The spell in the single remaining cuff was strong enough to keep her magic in check. So much for escaping that way.

The mistress reached for a wide silver cuff that had a cluster of teardrop sapphires arranged in a pattern in the centre of it and snapped it around Hella’s naked wrist. A weight instantly pressed down on her and she glared at the point where it fastened, watching the metal meld together into one seamless piece.

Fantastic. She now had fashionable restraints. Anyone who saw her shiny new bracelet would assume it was just jewellery and not a collar.

A way of changing who she was into something she didn’t want to be.

A powerless mortal.

Hella pulled her shit together and reminded herself that she had a plan and it was going to work. While the mistress was replacing her other shackle with a matching bracelet, she idly ran her fingers over the array of jewellery, pretending to be fascinated by how beautiful they were.

Which wasn’t difficult, because they were. Gold and diamond necklaces. Silver tiaras. Rings with every precious stone imaginable set into them. And hairpieces. She settled her fingers on an oval silver one and checked no one was watching before carefully slipping the long matching pin from it and tucking it into the four-inch cuff around her wrist.

The mistress finished fastening the one on Hella’s left wrist and set the shackles down on the top next to all the jewellery.

“I believe the diamonds would suit you best.” The woman reached for the necklace Hella had been admiring, picked it up and moved around her.

The youngest female gathered Hella’s blue hair up, allowing the mistress to secure the necklace around her throat, and Hella subtly checked the pin she had stolen was secure behind her cuff.

A hidden makeshift dagger she was going to use on her unwitting husband’s throat the moment he was alone with her.

She ran through her plan in her head as the women worked on styling her hair in countless curls that they then pinned high on the back of her head and affixed a silver tiara in front of the mass.

When they made her stand, she took to staring at her reflection as they dressed her, thankfully not in next to nothing like they were wearing. The sheer turquoise dress was far from something a witch should wear though. It gathered in layers over her chest, squashing her breasts together, forming a strapless corset. From her hips, the lengths of material flowed to her ankles at the front and trailed on the floor at her back, and none of them were stitched together. A stiff breeze was all it would take to flash everything at the guests.

And she meant everything.

“No underwear?” She cast a hopeful look at the mistress.

Who shook her head and continued lacing the silver filigree corset around Hella’s waist, one that pushed her breasts up and accentuated them even more, and was in danger of cutting off her air supply.

She had figured as much. Ethyrian wanted easy access to the goods, was clearly eager to make sure he crossed all the Ts and dotted all the Is as soon as possible. Heaven forbid she be allowed to have a little dignity today of all days.

Her wedding day.

Her stomach twisted.

She pressed her hand to it and stared at her reflection, not recognising herself.

All these years of wanting to wear something other than a black dress and now she ached to be back in one. She had never realised how big a part of her identity her black dresses were. Everyone who saw her in one knew she was a witch. With this dress and her magic bound, what was she?

A shadow of herself.

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