Page 16 of Wolf Queen Ruin
But I wasn’t my father.And I wasn’t a wolf shifter anymore, was I?
“Only if you’re planning to use me as a snack,” I replied.“Otherwise, I don’t particularly care what you are.I care what you can do.”
He sat back.“Good.”
“So how long are we talking?”I asked.“Your life, I mean.”
“I was born in 1682.Turned in 1712.”
I whistled softly.“Over three hundred years?That’s a lot of dinner parties to attend.”
He laughed that wonderful laugh again.“You have no idea.The eighteenth century was particularly tedious.So many courses, so little actual flavor.”
“So we have our cover story,” I said.“What else do I need to know about playing your adoring fiancée?”
“Not adoring,” he corrected.“Though we’ll still have to sell our relationship, or no one will believe it.”
“Right.I can fake that.”
“As can I.”His intense eyes held mine, almost as though he doubted if I believed him.
“Well.”I cleared my throat and looked away.“I’ll try not to embarrass you with my lack of supernatural socialite skills.”
“You couldn’t,” he said with surprising sincerity.“Your authenticity is refreshing in a world drowning in artifice.Just be yourself…but perhaps with slightly better table manners.”
I laughed despite myself.“I’ll work on not stabbing people with dessert forks.”
“Now, regarding physical boundaries, we’ll need to appear comfortable with each other.Occasional contact will be expected.Hand-holding, perhaps an arm around your waist when appropriate.”
The casual way he discussed touching me made me shift in my chair, my pulse a steady hum between my ears.
“I’ll try not to flinch dramatically when you touch me,” I promised with fake sweetness.
“I appreciate your sacrifice,” he replied, so dryly that I laughed.
For the next two hours, Damien continued to drill me on everything from proper table manners to the correct way to decline a dance without causing offense.He was a surprisingly patient teacher, demonstrating each protocol with a grace that spoke of centuries of practice.When I struggled with a complex greeting ritual for elder vampires, he broke it down into simpler components, never showing frustration at my repeated mistakes.
“You’re a quick study when you put your mind to it,” he said.
“I’m motivated,” I said.“The faster we get through this, the sooner we can find the Shadow Fang.”
“I understand,” he said.
For a moment, I glimpsed something raw in him, a personal pain that mirrored my own desperation.
“We’ve covered the essentials for today.Tomorrow we should focus on the practical aspects of the infiltration.”
“And I need to find something appropriate to wear,” I said.“I’m guessing my standard tomb-raiding outfit won’t cut it at a supernatural society event.”
“That’s been arranged,” Damien said.“A selection of suitable attire will be delivered to your residence tomorrow morning.”
I stared at him.“You bought me clothes?Without even asking?”
“I provided options,” he corrected, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.“Consider it part of our operational expenses.Nothing more.”
“And let me guess, you just happened to know my size?”
His eyes traveled over me, not leeringly but in a way that made my skin tingle.“Three centuries teaches one to be observant about many things, Luna.”
