I wipe my hands, trying to catch up on the conversation. Grace has turned away to talk to Hazel, and even though she appears composed, the little flowers in her hair are blooming again. I instinctively feel like this happens when she’s nervous or upset.
“Do you really think this role is for you, dear?” Hazel asks, her tone barely concealing her contempt. “I mean, you’re nowhere near anything resembling noble birth, so to arise to the position of luna is—”
“Is perfect!” I say, a bit too loudly. “She’s great. I couldn’t be happier.”
To illustrate my point, I wrap an arm around Grace’s shoulders and give her a squeeze. The flowers in her hair go through an insane growth spurt, pouring down around her shoulders in a soft flurry of white petals.
Shit.
I let go of her in a hurry, hoping I haven’t upset her. Even though she leans away from me, I can see I’ve diverted Hazel, who is swiftly walking away.
Okay. Now’s my chance. I’ve got to at least introduce myself to this woman—we’re married for fuck’s sake!
I clear my throat and prepare to speak, but as I look up at Grace, she picks up a strawberry from her plate and delicately bites it in half. I’m mesmerized by the way her mouth moves on the lush red fruit and how the juice stains her lips. I’m still staring like a fool when she turns to look at me.
“What?” she mumbles, licking her lips as she swallows the mouthful of strawberry. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman eat before?”
Even though I hear the words, I don’t take them in, and end up just shaking my head.
Great start, Dan, I congratulate myself inwardly.Now you look uncivilized AND stupid.
Chapter 4 - Grace
I married a savage.
Dan continues to stare at me with such a fixed gaze, I start to wonder if he might have had a stroke. I turn away from him and try not to sigh, putting the strawberry back down on my plate without finishing it.
I’m too worked up to eat. Obviously, Dan isn’t having that problem.
Watching him inhale an entire plate of roast chicken in under three minutes was bad enough, but he did it entirely with his hands as well.
He didn’t even glance at the cutlery. Maybe he doesn’t know how to use it.
I look around the table, feeling completely detached from the entire event. At first, my nerves were so high, every sound clashed against me like poorly timed cymbals, but now I just feel completely distanced, like a thick veil has come down between me and the real world.
I have to do this. My sisters told me I have no choice.
A lump rises in my throat, and I try to swallow it, but it just makes my eyes water. I set my teeth stubbornly, refusing to cry.
Hazel’s right. I don’t belong here. This is crazy—a misfit outcast like me can’t possibly be a luna, no matter what the order says.
“Grace,” Dan says softly. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
I keep my eyes fixed somewhere in the distance and take a breath, trying not to sigh.
“Grace,” he says again, and I feel him touch my shoulder.
The second his skin contacts mine, a painless, thrilling shock runs through me. I have to close my eyes as heat pools between my thighs and my nipples harden against the soft fabric of my dress.
What the fuck is going on? Every time I touch his skin, my body lights up like the Fourth of July!
I turn around slowly, wanting to move Dan’s hand off my arm but not willing to touch him. The arousal I can’t stop myself from feeling collides with my disdain, filling my stomach with jitters as I look over at him.
“Did I offend you?” he asks.
I want to be polite and say he didn’t, but I do feel somewhat offended by the way he demolished his food like a caveman, so I end up saying nothing, and the moment stretches out, far beyond being awkward into flat-out painful.
I watch his face go through a series of small changes—a hardening to his angled jaw, pensive tightening of his high, narrow cheekbones, and his dark blue eyes widening, drawing me into their depths.
