Kor folded his arms across his broad chest.
"The people in town, you mean?”
I nodded.
"The people in town.Yousaw the way they looked at me yesterday, right?Theydon’t like me.Theyall blame me for not being able to giveCarteran heir.”
Kor frowned.
"Who cares what they think?"
I blinked.
"What?"
"Who cares?"he repeated."They'renot the ones wearing the dress."
"They'll talk,”Iprotested.
He shrugged.
"Theyalreadytalk.Whatdoes it matter if they talk a little more?Whocares?"
I opened my mouth and then closed it again.Actually, he had a point.WhyshouldIcare about the mean thingsIheard them whisper—the snide remarks behind my back about my barrenness.Carterwas gone now, and theAlphaChallengewould determine their nextPackMaster.Iwas no longer part of the equation, except as a figurehead—a living monument to their fallen leader.
Kor stepped closer and tipped my chin up with one finger.Helooked into my eyes.
"Vivienne, you're a free woman now,” he murmured.“He’sgone—he can’t hurt you now.You’refree.”
I nibbled my lower lip again.
"I don't know ifIam,"Iadmitted softly.
"Youare."Hisvoice was firm."Andif anybody inBlackridgedoesn't like it, that's their problem."
I looked up at him and felt courage stirring inside me—just a little but maybe it was enough.
AfterKorleft me to get dressed,Istood in front of the closet for another minute.ThenIreached past the black dresses and pulled out a white sundressI'dordered online.
It wasn't scandalous—at least,Ididn't think it was—but it wasn’t black and stuffy, either.
The dress had a modest neckline and came to my knees.Itwas fitted enough to flatter my figure without being tight andIcould wear a regular bra underneath it.Ipaired it with a light cream-colored cardigan and a pair of open-toed sandals that showed the new pedicureIhad just given myself a few days ago—pale pink polish that was pretty without being too in-your-face.
WhenIfinished dressing,Istood in front of the mirror and stared.Ihave to admit, for a momentIhardly recognized myself.
The woman looking back at me didn't resemble thePackLeader'swidow.Andshe didn’t look like an elderly librarian or a retired nun.
She lookedhappy.
Her long, dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders and her cheeks were flushed with color.Evenher gold-ringed eyes seemed brighter somehow.Thewhite dress made my skin look sun-kissed and the fitted waist emphasized curvesIhad spent years trying to hide.
I looked…younger.Nottwenty years younger, but maybe ten.Ilooked likeImight be aroundKor’sage—maybe just a year or two older instead of ten.
I turned slowly from side to side and felt something flutter in my chest.
For the first time in ages,Ifeltbeautiful.
The realization was so shocking it almost made me laugh.Howlong had it been sinceI'dfelt that way?Years—maybe more like decades.Ihadn’t felt pretty since beforeCartertook ownership of me.
