(Tilly Ann)
I saw the door open.
Bloody hell!
My mind went blank and white with panic.
My dress was ripped at the shoulder. My drawers were a damp puddle on the fucking floor near the freaking mop bucket.
My hair was coming undone, and my entire body was throbbing, humming with the memory of Chase Dubois's fingers.
Fuck!
I was a scandal waiting to happen.
There was no time. Absolutely no time to think, only to move.
I snatched the ruined drawers from the floor, balled them up in my fist, and dove behind a tall stack of dusty grain sacks in the corner, just as the door swung fully open.
I held my breath, my heart hammered against my ribs so loud I was sure it would give me away.
I heard the quiet squeak of wheels on wood.
But Wheels?
We had no invalids in the palace or any one in need of wheels. But someone on one was outside the door.
Slowly, I dared to peek.
It was Chase. But different.
All the easy, predatory grace was gone.
He sat in a wheelchair, his lean form looking suddenly fragile. The charming, disarming smile was replaced by a weary expression. The dreamy eyes were now sharp, guarded, and cold.
He looked emptied out.
Really? It must have taken a shit amount of toll on him to fuck me with his fingers, jump out the window, somehow make it back in time to play the saint.
Chase Dubois, what game are you playing now?
He rolled a few feet into the room, his eyes scanning the empty space.
"Are you decent?" he asked, his voice different too. It was deeper. Sexier. Like someone who hardly talked unless he had something to say.
Decent?
Did he say decent? Rage filled me up instantly.
I shoved myself out from behind the sacks that he made me hide like a common criminal.
"You!" I hissed, keeping my voice low but trembling with fury. I pointed a shaking finger at the window. "Look at me?" I demanded. "Why did you jump out the window without putting me in order? Look at me!"
His eyes flicked over my disarray—the dress, the wild hair, the no doubt flushed and furious face. There was no warmth in his gaze. No amusement either. "It was the quickest exit, I suppose after what I suspect was a welcome and successful debauchery."
"Quickest for you!" I took a step forward, my bare legs feeling the chill of the room. "You left me here to be caught looking like… " I searched for words "...like a ruined tavern wench!"
"That's a first" He commented, life coming in his eyes.
"What's a first, Fuck face?" I fumed.
"Usually, the girl can't stop singing praises for the enormous Cock, she rode…you look considerably pissed"
"Give me your shirt. Before I do something as outrageous as strangle you with my father's Manila rope"
He blinked. "What?"
"Your shirt. Take it off. Give it to me. Now." I held out my hand, demanding.
It was the only thing that could cover the tear, that could make me look less like I'd just been ravished in a closet.
He stared at my outstretched hand as if it were a strange insect. "I can't just—"
"Do it, Dubois" I snarled, the last thread of my patience snapping. "Or I will walk out that door right now and tell my father you slapped me. See how your Lycan King father likes having a fiery hot tempered grizzly built man named Adonis Winchester shove his dragon fist up his son ass"
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Wow, you are…not what I expected"
He began unbuttoning his dark coat, then the white shirt beneath. He moved with a slight awkwardness, his shoulders tight.
He pulled the shirt off, revealing a torso that was all lean muscle and pale skin, and held it out to me without a word.
I snatched it from him.
It was still warm from his body and smelled like him.
I turned my back, struggling out of my torn dress and pulling his shirt on over my head. It was too big on me. The sleeves covering my hands.
I rolled them up viciously. I felt a little more covered, a little less shattered.
Thankfully, with my habit of stealing Kessington's Shirt or my father's Jacket, it wouldn't be odd seeing me wearing…this.
Without a word of thanks, I shoved my ruined dress and drawers into the grain sacks and marched past him, my bare feet slapping the cold floor. He didn't try to stop me.
I made it to the closet door, my hand on the knob.
A strong arm shot out, not from the chair, but from the side. His hand clamped over mine on the knob. Before I could yelp, he used his other arm to shove me back—not hard, but with shocking, precise force.
I stumbled back into the closet shadows as he pulled the door shut, plunging me into near-darkness again. He closed the door behind him, locking me in.
"What are you—?" I began, but then I heard them. Voices Walking into the receiving room.
My mother's light, nervous laugh. And a deeper, authoritative voice I didn't know—rich and commanding. It had to be Alpha Kale Dubois.
"...so pleased the children are getting acquainted," my mother was saying.
"Indeed," the deep voice rumbled.
"Son, have you seen your brother?"
"No"
"And Tillie Ann?" my father's voice now, joining them. He sounded anxious.
I held my breath. It wasn't beyond Chase to push the door open and yell…There she is!
There was a pause. I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the door, my breath stuck in my throat. This was it. He'd hand me over to spite me. He'd describe the closet.
"What the fuck is a Tilly Ann?"
The world stopped.
I blinked. I am going to murder him!
Sharing my hiding place with the rest of them suddenly seemed like a better spite than having Chase Dubois ask…what the fuck is a Tilly Ann.
My mother gave a flustered little laugh. Whatever Adonis Winchester was gaining from this marriage, he prevented him from snapping Chase Dubois's neck.
"My daughter! The princess! She was here with you when I left."
"Oh," he said, the sound dripping with bland disinterest. "I haven't seen her. Perhaps she went out the window. She seemed… energetic."
The voices murmured, began to move away, discussing the boar hunt, the weather. Their footsteps faded.
I came out of the closet, I slowly turned my head to look at him.
He was already looking at me.
"I am TILLY ANN. ME!" I moved closer to him, furry blinding me.
You finger fucked me a minute ago! Fuck face!