Valerie
By the time I’d arrived back downstairs, the foyer had filled with the wafting scents of fresh-cooked meats and baked bread.
I wasn’t sure why I had been invited to dinner when it was probably more fitting for a servant to be in the kitchen actually cooking the meal, but I couldn’t deny that the smells wreathing me were irresistible.
Flavor was not something we experienced often back at the slave shop. The aunts complied to the Alpha’s orders to feed us meat and milk every week, but seasoning and sweets were something we only caught a whiff of when the windows were left open on a windy afternoon.
I rounded the foyer and stood at the threshold of the dining room, watching servants buzz around the table. They dropped off platters full of food, and laid out silverware in a distin
