Chapter 3 #2
The quirk of Lord Avandair’s thick slate eyebrow tells me he knows I’m lying. But he proves how magnanimous he is by saying, “Very well. If that’s what you wish. But make sure the harpies accompany you at all times.”
“Understood, my lord.”
Lord Avandair’s large body shifts, fingers motioning outside the door. “I have a well-stocked library that you can use if you want to read books in your spare time.”
I gasp. I have never heard of any lord sharing their valuable, expensive leather-bound books with servants. The books will ease some of my loneliness, at least.
“My lord…” Anxiety stings inside my stomach like needles. “How long must I remain at Slate Manor and serve you?”
“I hope you’ll stay forever,” he replies. There’s no authority in his voice, only a breathy plea. “Winona, do you remember we’ve met before? I told you then that you were mine, didn’t I?”
That conversation in the woods swims to the forefront of my mind.
I had believed he was referring to a special bond between us.
He even called me his mate. To imagine that he meant that he’d make me work for him shatters all the steamy dreams that kept me awake at night for months.
Ones where I’m kissing the gargoyle lord, taking that large, erect appendage of his inside me until he fills me with his seed.
“That’s your uniform.” Lord Avandair points to a clean, laundered black down embroidered with golden flowers that have been laid out on the bed. “You begin your duties tomorrow.”
“Might I ask what you have been eating so far? If you don’t have a cook, how did you procure meals?”
He averts his gaze, bringing a closed fist to his mouth. “Grandor and I have been subsisting on herbal tonics since our last cook left three months ago.”
“Grandor…is that—“
“My son,” he confirms. “He’s very young but the tonics are safe for him. A gargoyle I trust brews them.”
My gaze flies to his face. Imagine that there’s a baby inside his cold, isolated house…
“Where is the baby, my lord?”
“In his nursery at the end of this hallway. Avoid going there. He’s easily scared by new people.”
A twinge of disappointment pulls at my heart.
I was looking forward to seeing a gargoyle baby in person.
I’m curious to know what such a creature is like.
Just thinking how he must be all alone in this big, cold manor makes me pity him.
I want to provide him comfort if I can. Maybe I’ll quietly sneak into the nursery and play with him when Lord Avandair isn’t around.
“Of course. I’ll be careful.”
Lord Avandair claps his hands behind him, clearing his throat in a stony growl. “Is there anything else you’d like to inquire about?”
“Nothing yet, my lord. If I come across something new that I don’t understand, I will be sure to seek your guidance.”
It must be my imagination. The pinched look on Lord Avandair’s face cannot actually be dismayed. His fingers are stretched on the edge of the bed frame, clinging to it. He’s reluctant to leave. Does he want to stay with me?
No, that’s a mad notion.
My heart whispers in empty promises, though. Remember when he told you that you were his? That you were his mate? What if that wasn’t a lie?
He has not mentioned the mate thing again. I must have heard wrong. Maybe I was so entranced by the presence of a nobleman that I conjured up the entire conversation in my head. I mean, if I think about it, why would anybody think I was special?
I’m just an average woman.
“I’ll leave you to acclimate to your new surroundings.
Feel free to wander around. The kitchen is near the entrance.
” The slow thumps of Lord Avandair’s heavy feet striking the ground fill the air.
Lord Avandair turns around and arrows to the door.
I only catch a brief flash of his muscled buttocks flexing but it hits me like a spell.
When he turns around, I spot that he’s fully aroused.
But my focus on his impressive member doesn’t last long.
“Did you consume the herbs I handed to your father?” His eyes narrow on me. He motions behind me. “There’s more in your desk drawer. Eat them every day.”
“Yes, my lord,” I comply without protest. I’m grateful he made the offer. The herbs make me feel good and I need a little supernatural mood boost if I’m going to reconcile with my fate. Living with a monster is scary. A little fake happiness wouldn’t hurt.
“Are you curious about what they do?” Lord Avandair’s gaze settles on my chest, where my bosom is rapidly expanding and falling. “They’re meant to prepare you to carry out...the role that I wish for you to perform.”
“What kind of role?”
“It involves my son.”
Quick understanding dawns on me. I get the gist of it. He likely intends to have me be the child’s caretaker, as Papa implied. I don’t see how the herbs will help me, though. Perhaps they’re supposed to give me mental cheer to put up with the lordling’s tantrums?
I shudder. For some reason, I cannot reconcile that the child of someone as polished and benevolent as Lord Avandair could be a troublemaker.
I bow deeply. “I will be honored to serve the young master, my lord.”
“One last thing, Winona: I ask that you not poison my meals.” A broken, thin laugh tips out of his throat. “Poisons are ineffective on gargoyles anyway.”
“I do not wish to murder you, my lord, so you are quite safe,” I reply, unable to resist smiling at his charming demeanor.
He returns my smile with a grin that shakes my stomach to the core. I see it for what it is: infatuation. Lord Avandair is rich, sophisticated, masculine, and thrilling in a way human men never are. His thick cock promises ecstasy and his thick, rough fingers entice my pussy to keep oozing wetness.
I have to put this attraction behind me or I won’t survive at Slate Manor.
“I look forward to learning more about you, Winona.” There’s a secret promise in that statement. It’s imbued with lust and intention, just like the time when he said I was his in the woods. “You are an interesting woman.”
“Hardly.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. Don’t undervalue yourself because your father did. You’re precious, Little Butterfly.”
You’re precious.
His words linger in the air long after he’s gone.