The Heir's Breeder

8

Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have thought to wear a brown dress. But here I am, in a giant, gorgeous, brown ball gown. The bodice is stiff but still forms around my body to hold the dress up because there are no straps to do so. It has a raised zig-zag pattern on it. The skirt flows out about two inches from my waist and all the way down to the floor and Rose tied ribbons onto my arms.

I stand in front of the doors for the ballroom—the same one I danced in during the full moon—mentally preparing for the doors to open. Rose had spent the last two days trying to give me all the information I need for the night, and it is all leaving my mind the longer I stand here.

Wolves will have already started entering the ballroom but Tristan is not set to arrive until a little while later. Apparently, I have to have a formal entrance as his guest. It is scary, the guards are waiting for my cue, but my breath is caught in my lungs and my heart rate is rising. All you have to do is wait until they finish announcing you, then walk down the steps and toward the throne. Rose's voice rings in my head. Down the steps and to the throne. I don't need to speak with anyone. Keep my head up and get to that chair.

I nod my head at one of the guards and he knocks twice on the door. I hear a loud thud and the room beyond falls quiet. "Introducing..." the guards reach out and pull the doors open. The ballroom is bright and I want to squint my eyes but hold back.

The voice of the male introducing me falls off and I can't hear the full introduction, nor do I care. I am sure Tristan made it something fancy as he still has not gotten over the whole "livestock" thing.

"We need to talk about the Equinox Ball," Tristan said one night falling onto the bed after dinner.

I was getting myself changed into a nightgown for bed and putting my hair up. "What about it?"

"How do you want to be introduced?" he asked. I just shrugged moving from the bathroom towards him. I stopped by the couch and sat down, pulling my knees to my chest and looking over the back at him.

"Well, there is going to be something—some way—to introduce you," he sat up. "I want to give you a say in, is there any way you would live to be referred to?"

I shook my head, "No, whatever you have to say that tethers me to you is fine."

Something in Tristan shifted, "Is that what you think?" He stood up and made his way to me, "That I own you in some way?" I just shrug, trying to look away while he bends down in front of me. "Fate, you are your own person. The only reason I am keeping hold of you is to try to keep you safe from others. If you want to leave I can help with that." The only reason. I know that I am a burden but hearing it from him hurts in a special way.

Don't get too comfortable, a voice in my head says. I thought this might be nice and different. I know I should be grateful for what I have—and I am—but somewhere in these few weeks I got too comfortable and started expecting more. I started to expect...a life.

I shift away again. "That's ok, whatever is fine. I don't need to be anything special."

"But you are, Fate." Tristan grabs my hands as he speaks. I open my mouth to protest but he continues, "Don't say you aren't. You think so lowly of yourself but you are so amazing. Please stop referring to yourself poorly. It hurts me when you do."

I still can't look him in the eyes but I keep my mouth shut, and some part of me hurts at the thought of disappointing him. Slowly, I pull my hands out of his and curl into myself again. He sighs and stands up, moving away. It is quiet for a few minutes before he asks me to come to bed.

Quietly, I stand and get under the covers, warming as he pulls me to his chest and does, what is becoming, my favorite thing: he wraps his arms across my chest, brings his legs up to mine so that we mimic a sitting position, and places his chin on my head, tucking me into him ad keeping me safe.