Wicked lessons with the coutesan

She isn’t avaliable

1 year earlier

*Oliver*

The secret rooms at the Twin wolves cater to men and she-wolves with certain needs. For the most part, the she-wolves need a benefactor. The men, as men tended to do, are in need of a dependable f**k. Not that the purpose of the rooms was advertised as such.

But it is a place where men can openly escort their mistresses about and enjoy various entertainments. Dancing in the ballroom. Gambling in a nearby parlor. And a few private bedchambers that are let by the hour for couples testing the waters of compatibility for a lengthier alliance.

Although gents do sometimes regret their decision to bring their paramours here, because it is not unusual for a wanton she-wolf to catch someone else’s eye and decide she wants to be wanton with him for a while, and thusly let her regular go. Of course, there are the occasional unattached female who has already left her lover and is searching for more virile pastures. And naturally there are the free-roaming gents who are weary of the chase and want a bit more permanence when it comes to who warms their bed or engages in the naughtiness one wouldn’t ask of their wives.

I fall somewhere in between. I’ve never had a wife nor a mistress, but the thought of having the latter is beginning to appeal to me. If I’m not continually on the prowl, I would free up time for other pursuits. It just makes sense to have a she-wolf who is there whenever she is needed. And if I am on occasion seen with her, maybe the mamas will leave me in peace.

“I don’t know why I came,” Jimmie Swindler mutters. “I can’t afford to keep a she-wolf on a constable’s salary.”

While Jimmie’s family is not of the high packs, his father and mine grew up together and were more brothers to each other than some men who share the same blood. As a result, Jimmie and I consider each other cousins… of the heart rather than the blood, both our mothers are fond of saying.

“But you can look at one and tell me if she appears… shifty. If she might steal from me.”

“None of these are upstanding she-wolves, Langdon. I think you can assume they look out for themselves first, above all else.”

“Your occupation is making you a bit of a cynic.”

“Prove me wrong.”

How I wouldn’t half like to. I am considering even making a wager on it, but then I see her. On Pineworth’s arm, gazing around as though walking through her dominion and owning every breath of air within it, doing it out and stealing it where she can.

“Good Goddess,” I murmur in awe. “I’d heard Pineworth’s she-wolf was the fairest in Blackrock city, but still I’d not expected her to be so incredibly breathtaking.”

“And damned well knows it, she does.”

“She’d be a fool not to.” And even from this distance, several feet away from her, the sharpness in her gaze as she scrutinizes her surroundings… the inanimate as well as the animate… indicates she is no fool.

Unlike the low neckline of the gowns of most of the she-wolves in the room… a neckline that in some rare instances reveals the shadow of a n****e… hers offers only the barest shadow of her cleavage. Holding so much of herself secret makes her all the more alluring.

The vibrant red silk, hugging her torso before flaring out with the aid of a bustle, goes well with the onyx shade of her hair. But it is the manner in which her eyes sparkle whenever Pineworth speaks to her that makes her truly striking.

Then she smiles, and it is the most mesmerizing, intoxicating arrangement of lips, teeth, and features I’ve ever seen. It encompasses the whole of her face, making her cheeks appear fuller, her chin less pointed. Not that any aspect of her needs rearranging. But it is a revelation to note she can look even more beautiful… not because of her physical aspects, but because something extraordinary seems to burst forth from the depths of her soul.

For the past couple of years, young swells with an artistic bent have begun sketching her, and more than once at various clubs, arguments have broken out regarding who has managed to capture her likeness in its truest form. But how could lead, charcoal, watercolors, or oils reveal the experience of her?

A book might show an image of a lioness, but it isn’t until a person is confronted by the reality of the beast that he can truly appreciate its magnificence.

“She looks rather attached to Pineworth,” Jimmie says, “to be enjoying his company. I doubt she’s looking for a new benefactor.”

“No. You have the right of it.” I’ve heard no whispers of discontentment on her part or on the Alpha’s..

The discontentment flourishing is all within myself… that I’ve not enticed her into my arms before Pineworth had. But then she doesn’t move about within my social circles, and, before tonight, I haven’t moved about outside of them. Hence, I’ve only heard rumors of her after she became entangled with Pineworth. As the months go by, so the rumors have grown into epic proportions.

I am incredibly aware that members of my family are always under scrutiny by the high packs. While I am well-liked and considered quite the catch… after all I am heir to an Alpha title… I know how easily, quickly, and irrevocably one’s reputation can become tarnished with one unfortunate decision.

While Pineworth is known to escort his paramour to the theater and the occasional symphony or exhibition, he’s never brought her into any Alpha’s residence. Having seen her at last, I am under the impression that he flaunts her as a means to raise his own self-esteem as the man isn’t particularly handsome and has yet to take a mate. Hence Pineworth having such a confident beauty on his arm is certainly no hardship and can do his reputation little harm. As a matter of fact, it no doubt enhances it.

“What is it you want in a mistress?” Jimmie asks.

Her, I almost say. “Ah, someone entertaining, I think.”

Jimmie furrows his brow. “In what manner?”

The answer should jump from my mouth: How do you think? Bed sport.

That’s what mistresses are for and yet... the way she moves, the manner in which she interacts with those approaching and leaving the couple… confidently, appearing interested, giving the impression she finds them far more fascinating than she expects they’d ever find her… makes me realize that even a mistress should be wanted for more than what she can deliver between the sheets.

“I can’t put it into words, but I’ll know her when I see her.”

The problem is, I suspect I already have, and she isn’t available.