The Taming

Lord Demaron

Elsabet stood at the window in her chamber. Sighing, she shifted away but caught rapid movement. She squinted to see it. But the night was so black not even a moon glowed.

She headed for the large four-poster bed but the sound of a board creaking under a heavy step made her freeze. Her gaze flicked to the doorway. A smile brightened her face. Revealing perfect white teeth at the sight before her.

"Quandary!" She slumped on the edge of the bed and held out an inviting hand. Greeting her newest, only, friend in WaterRose.

Quandary rubbed the side of his large head against her palm. Rumbling softly as he sat, pressing shoulders against her thigh as he leaned into her. Caressing his slick back, made his weight against her leg increase, easing into her touch.

I missed you. Bast thought. Looking at the excitement in her blue eyes upon seeing him.

If only she looked at me like that as the man. He tipped his head. Looking at her with his bright yellow gaze.

"You feel my dissension, do you?" She met the look. "I'm okay."

She scratched between his pointed ears.

After a time, he rose and walked around to hop up. Curling next to her hip. Twisting to lay aside him she wrapped her arms around him and accepted the warmth he offered.

"Do you always go with him?" She petted his ribcage, thoughtfully. "It's so lonely when you're gone." She was suddenly thinking of her father and Lord Demaron.

Sebastian could see it in her thoughts. He felt a protective pang as she considered her once-husband.

A man who was obviously cruel to her.

The reason she now hates men.

Quandary shifted, interested in her memories. These are the type she usually stamps down when she's around the real me.

Never before had she given the monster that haunted her nightmares, a name.

She thought of her marriage to Lord Demaron as merely her father selling her to the highest bidder. She'd soon learned Lord Demaron's handsome face cloaked his deep cruelty.

Lord Demaron? Why does that name sound so familiar? He frowned. Unable to place it. He was careful not to move. Not wanting to disturb this glimpse into her past.

He rode along with her thoughts, sensing them more vividly due to his nearness.

She'd barely been old enough to attend that first ball.

Her come-out ball.

Her mother had insisted on it. Though she'd been shy and fearful.

She had entered the ball, wearing a baby blue gown with a high princess waist, and a simple, straight skirt. Revealing that her family was not as well-to-do as her father insisted people think. Her gold and silver hair had been pulled up in loose curls. Pinned with pearled hairpins. She wore silvery white gloves that went up to her elbows. She'd clutched her skirts nervously as she entered the Ballroom at the footman's introduction.

All eyes had turned to her. She'd felt her heart pounding in her chest.

Many men had looked at her with an interested glint in their eye.

But Lord Demaron had been the first one to jog up and ask to sign her dance card.

In her memory, she saw his face.

Sebastian was struck by the man's hard features. I've seen him before.

But he couldn't quite place where.

Throughout the night and the following day, when he came to call on her for a walk in the park, she'd been enthralled by the sophisticated man's interest in her.

She'd felt small and inadequate.

His attention had been a great compliment.

She'd quickly fallen for the kind things that spilled from his lips. Believing each of them with the doe-eyed innocence of any young woman.

As she recalled how sophisticated he was, Sebastian's face flashed in her mind's eye. The way he moved, the way he lifted a wine glass, or bowed in greeting reflected that same easy sophistication.

The correlation sickened Bast because what she thought when she recollected this other Lord was disgust, revulsion, abhorrence...

Bast wasn't fond of the comparison. His gut sunk. Wondering if this was why she was often so cold.

Her memories were still flowing.

So, he followed them. Like threads in water that led to more vivid images.

She'd gone home after the first ball and her father followed her to her chamber. "If anyone, anyone at all shows you interest you must accept their offer. With your face, you won't garner many suitors." He'd told her, gesturing to her distastefully.

Her face! Bast was astounded. What was wrong with the man?

There was a loud knock at their mansion door.

She'd heard it.

As her father had.

The butler downstairs answered the door, and her father left her room.

Within seconds her mother crept in. Kneeling before Elsabet. Long silver hair falling around her shoulders in a dusky cloud as she took her daughter's hands. "Don't listen, Sweetheart. You're more beautiful than any other."

Elsabet's face brightened hopefully.

But her mother hadn't smiled. Instead, she'd cautioned her, "Sometimes the beauty of a woman brings forth the rage of men."

Her mother reached into one of her deep apron pockets and pulled out a tiny black kitten. "Be careful where you offer your heart." She placed the animal in Elsabet's lap.

Elsabet had squealed with girlish delight.

"Only this may be safe." Her mother cautioned. "Loving animals rather than people is wise."

Sebastian's brow furrowed at that logic. Where had she gotten that?

Before Elsabet could ask what her mother met, her father returned and both females withered like flowers.

Her mother left the room without a word further, under the watchful eye of Elsabet's father.

Elsabet hadn't known then it'd be the last time she'd ever see her mother. That night she'd left and never came back.

Her father's contemptuous look traveled to the bit of black fur crouched in Elsabet's lap. "Lord Demaron will arrive tomorrow to collect you."

He glared at the animal wiggling in her hands. As if he were considering stomping on it.

She found herself clutching it protectively to her side.

"So soon?" She asked, jaw agape.

Her father spun on his heel, and left the room. With no further explanation.

That was how she'd found out, she was sold.