Chapter 6

Rath.

I couldn't access her thoughts. How was that even possible? I was a supernatural creature with mind-reading powers, for crying out loud! But Dahlia? Nope. Nothing. Zilch. The human was an enigma wrapped in confusion, and it was driving me crazy. If she were anything other than human, I'd be able to hear her thoughts clearer than a loudspeaker, but now? I couldn't even catch a glimpse of what was going on in her head. It was like trying to read a book with no pages.

As I sipped my morning coffee—extra strong to help with the mental frustration—I pondered the mysteries of the universe... and Dahlia.

"Good morning, sir," Billie chimed in, bringing more butter to the table, as if that was somehow going to help me solve the riddle that was Dahlia.

"Good morning to you as well. Is the human up?" I asked, still brooding.

"She is," Billie replied, her tone way too chipper for my mood.

"I attempted something yesterday, but I couldn't go through with it," I admitted, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration.

"I noticed you two were engaged in some rather inte.nse athletic ro.leplay, and I figured it best not to interrupt," she teased with that sarcastic smile of hers. I shot her a glare.

"Stop joking, Billie. I'm not in the mood. As I was saying, I can't read her mind at all, and that's... well, strange," I explained, finally giving voice to the troubling fact that my usual abilities were failing me.

Billie's expression faltered for a second, as if contemplating the severity of my dilemma.

Just then, Dahlia entered the room, her presence lighting up the entire space. She wore a short purple sundress, her jet-black hair flowing behind her like some sort of magical cape. I wasn't sure if it was her beauty or the fact that I couldn't read her mind, but suddenly I was questioning everything.

Her hair cascaded down to her thighs like a silken waterfall, and the scent—was that lavender mixed with a touch of vanilla? My brain briefly short-circuited. On her finger, the ten-carat diamond ring I'd given her sparkled, though I'd still consider it more "pocket change" than a fortune.

The sunlight bathed her like she was some kind of goddess, and I swear the place actually got brighter.

This woman was absolutely stunning—and I still couldn't figure out why my supernatural mind-reading powers were absolutely useless around her. This was going to be a fun ride.

Out of nowhere, Billie began gesturing toward Dahlia like she was conducting some sort of silent opera. Dahlia flashed a smirk and fired back her own hand signals. She glanced at me for a split second before pointing in my direction.

Billie turned to me with a wicked grin. "Sir, she's asking when you'll take her v!rg!n!ty so your union can be complete. As it stands, the deal isn't finalized."

I choked on my coffee. Really? Just last night, I had... well, let's say I'd ventured into more inti.mate territory, and it had felt warm and slippery, with a sweet berry scent. But this? This was not the direction I had planned for this morning.

"You gave me the middle finger when I suggested it last night," I said, fixing Dahlia with a pointed look. She didn't seem to mind.

She shook her head and began her hand gestures again, looking like she was solving a complicated math problem.

"You were too aggressive," Billie translated. "I didn't appreciate that. You don't have to act like an animated grasshopper. That's why I kept my distance from you. Learn some manners."

I blinked. My jaw tightened. Who did this human think she was, talking to me like that? Animated grasshopper?

"Mind your tone with me," I growled, my fists instinctively clenching.

Dahlia made more hand gestures, and Billie stifled a laugh behind her hand.

"What's she saying?" I asked, clearly not ready for whatever came next.

"She's saying, 'Whatever, I don't care,'" Billie replied, but I knew her tone was hiding something much spicier.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. "You'll give her the syrup. I want to wrap this up."

Billie nodded and turned to Dahlia, who signed something again, brushing her hair dramatically like she was some sort of hair commercial model.

"She's saying that once you take her v!rg!n!ty, you need to cut her hair," Billie relayed. "The length is up to you, but just don't give her a pixie cut."

A pixie cut? Really? I liked the idea of cutting her hair—though the thought of it felt like sacrilege. I'd decide on the length later, but not a pixie cut. That was where I drew the line.

I rose from my chair and made my way over to her, my steps slow and deliberate.

"Get ready for tonight," I hissed, giving her a look that meant business.

She nodded, her face a mask of utter compliance, which I wasn't sure if I believed, but hey, at least it was progress.

One step closer to whatever this weird mess was turning into.

---

Dahlia.

The smell of the concoction the four eyed maid prepared hit me like a wrecking ball. It was so bad, I half-expected it to rise up from the glass and stra.ngle me.

"Why do I have to drink this?" I asked, feeling like I might burp mid-question.

"It's for your protection. The master possesses tremendous strength. He could snap your spine with just a sneeze. This mixture will make your body resistant to his strength, but it only lasts a short while," she explained, practically delivering a TED talk on spine-snapping wolves.

Right. A wolf. How could I have almost forgotten that? I still didn't understand why he kept calling me human when he looked exactly like me—just another guy, but with better cheekbones and a weird obsession with power.

I hesitated, then summoned every ounce of courage I had (and it wasn't much) and downed the green, fo.ul-smelling potion. My stomach churned like I had swallowed a rotten salad, and I seriously thought I might throw up. But no, I powered through like the determined, slightly nauseous person I was. The bitter taste made my whole body shudder.

The maid clapped.

"Good girl. Here's some honey to mask that awful taste." She handed me a cup brimming with honey, and I grabbed it like it was my last chance to save my taste buds. I practically inhaled it, thinking, Why isn't honey a cure for everything?

I felt utterly bored after that. I mean, what was I supposed to do here? I couldn't exactly take up knitting or learn to cook with a wolf-man breathing down my neck. Speaking of which, the house was spotless. How did she manage to keep everything so pristine on her own? Did she have an army of tiny cleaning minions? What time did she wake up to handle this whole place? Was she secretly an octopus?

"Can I help you with anything?" I signed, trying to be helpful.

She shook her head with a smile. "You don't need to. I'm fine."

Fair enough. I spent the rest of the day soaking up the sun in the backyard, contemplating my life choices (like why I decided to get involved with a guy who could snap me in half with a sneeze). But as night approached, my curiosity about the evening turned into full-blown panic. This was happening. This was really happening.

Dinner was just fruit salad—fruit salad. I couldn't even enjoy it, too busy mentally preparing for... whatever awaited me.

Afterward, I headed to my room to shower and get dressed. I slipped into a sheer white lace nightdress, keeping it traditional by leaving my hair unbrushed, because apparently, that's what you do when you're about to meet the world's most inti.midating man.

"Please follow me," the maid signed. I trailed after her like a puppy who knew better than to question anything.

She turned the golden doorknob, twisting it with the grace of someone who had opened this door way too many times.

I gasped as I entered my husband's room.

It was bigger. Better. I mean, if Pinterest had a dark lord room section, this would be the cover photo. The color scheme was gray and silver, which screamed I'm mysterious and slightly brooding, and the walls were adorned with portraits of serene nature scenes, like someone was trying to balance out the fact that this was a super villain's room. A crystal chandelier hung above, casting a soft glow that was so mesmerizing, I almost forgot to breathe.

His king-size bed was absolutely immense, like it was designed for someone who enjoyed rolling around in luxury... or had a massive ego. The floor-to-ceiling window offered a view of the estate that was nothing short of majestic. I couldn't help but fall in love with his Pinterest-worthy dark lord room. If he ever decided to retire from being a dan.gerous wolf-man, he could definitely consider interior design.

"The master will be back soon. You can wait in your room if you'd prefer, and I'll wake you when he arrives. Or you can rest here while you wait," the maid signed.

I nodded, not wanting to seem ungrateful but also really wanting to stay in this stunning room. "Thank you," I signed back.

I chose to wait here. It smelled like his cologne—black mint and blackcurrant—which, surprisingly, was lovely. Black was obvio

usly his signature scent, like a metaphor for the darkness of his heart... or maybe he just liked the color.