My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(10)

Terror colors Lord Craven’s darkly handsome features, mixed with respect for your command of your desire as well as of his household staff.

“NOOOOOOO!” He screams as fur and blood tear through his desirable flesh. The transformation shows you what he truly is…

“A were-creature?!” You scream and duck behind a chaise lounge toppled earlier by vigorous lovemaking.

“A monster.” His words are raw, his breath ragged, his teeth sharp and long. His voice is the only thing you recognize. The rest of him is a hulking mass above you, the wild night made flesh, out for blood, and out for you.

“Blanche…she left me for a time to be with her poet lover. When she came back, she had changed. She had become a monster.”

You shake your head. “No, she was a monster long before. She merely came back a wolf.”

Lord Craven stares at you, eyes drenched in sadness. “She then turned me into this—this thing. She wanted to change the children, too, but I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—let her. So she turned on them instead. She took Helena…” A single tear runs down his wolf face.

He could destroy you with a single swipe of his knife-sharp claws. End you with one snap of his abominable jaws. But you place your hand on the center of his chest.

“Are you not afraid?” he cries.

“Not of you.” You reach out to embrace his terrifying form. He trembles at your touch.

“Not,” you say as you draw his horrible maw to your delicate mouth, “of my monster.”

You kiss him. He shudders in tender ecstasy. He shudders with relief.

“Make us as one,” you command. “You never have to be alone. Never, as long as either of us has breath left in our bodies.” You share a look between your eternal souls. You nod. He nods. The kiss turns to teeth and tongue and magic.

Together, your bodies are rewritten by the moonlight.

The legend of Hopesend Manor now speaks of two demon beasts who stalk the moors as a pair. One is never seen without the other, and when they howl at their moon-made-master, no creature has ever been said to sound happier.

The End





While Benedict unlocks secret passageways of your mind, Cad unlocks the secret passageways of your body. You know the way Benedict would love you: full of honor and wit, with repressed desire bursting out in rare moments of passion, shooting stars across a dark sky of decorum upheld, appearances kept, pants buttoned.

But what if you want a sky full of stars? What if you want to be blinded with light and passion? Why should you have to marry Benedict at all, for that matter, just because you want to love his body? Why do you need to marry well to live well, to give the color of your rose to one man alone, for all of time?

It is Benedict’s world that has made you a beggar of love and station. It is Benedict’s society that deems you a bad catch, in need of a savior merely to live your life. It is Benedict who has decided that you needed saving from Cad, rather than taking a moment to see what you truly wanted. As much as you feel for him, and want him, something derelict in Cad speaks to you. Something that sounds on the nature of your very own soul. You perhaps would not feel so animal if you had grown up in the cozy bosom of the ton, a gilded daughter, debuted and danced and feted as if she were destined to be a jewel in some young man’s crown.

But you weren’t danced and debuted. You were relegated to toil while others shone. You bathed in shadow yet, for others, created light.

“You know your mind, girl.” Cad laughs, raw and sultry, his body shimmering with perspiration. He is a fool, of course, for thinking he could take down Benedict with such a hasty scheme. To raze a castle with a claw is impossible. It takes more finesse. More artistry. More watching, waiting, planning. Paperwork.

You recall his lush tongue brushing against your breasts, the shape of his kiss, the bulge in his trousers. He has a face so beautiful, your breath catches just from watching it catch moonlight.

A face like that can open doors. A mind like yours can open a world you had thought was closed to you.

“My lady.” Benedict’s eyes are already wounded as they search your own. He is a wit, true, but while some wits are frivolous, you know he is more savage. If only he could be as free as his foolish, fiery, fine half brother, you could see yourself living with him, taking up by his side. But you know, as he knows, that he is still far too proper to be the man you need, or the man you want.

“I came to save you, and to tell you that Henrietta had confessed the truth by the time I reached the house. I am baronet again. She has eloped with Sam. They are out for Cad’s blood, of course. But all is well.” Even as he speaks, his voice breaks with the knowledge of your decision.

“I am sorry, Benedict.” You tenderly kiss him goodbye.

“I could make you happy, you fool,” he whispers softly into your mouth.

“Perhaps,” you whisper back. “But you could never make me free.”

“Yes. Well.” Benedict takes a deep breath, desperate to collect himself. You wish you could take him with you. Perhaps you will meet again, under different circumstances. “Run now, take the spare carriage. I will say that Cad stole it and you decided to go off to America or something. That should give you a head start. I will miss you, damnable woman.”

“I will miss you, too,” you say and nod in thanks. Cad, stunned, watches the exchange from his position, slumped against the high hedge of the labyrinth.