elle

y. It was my grandmother Eleanor's birthday, and I was the star of the show. My gown, a frothy confec

ed up to me, a flute of champagne in her hand. "Isabelle, darling," she sighed, her voice laced with faux sympathy.

so concerned for her. She is, after all...

d hang in the

ing glances exchanged between the high-born guests. In our

d, my voice a soft murmur of concern. "But she refused it. I

planted. I watc

up in some human t

ha Richard even allow her

t it? That poor Alpha Sterli

, Richard, who was talking to the Alpha of the Silver Crest Pack, shot a dark glance toward the doors, irritation flicke

rfectly set for

ck socialite fought to commission-and made a mental note to seek

rand ballroom d

rald announced, his voice boom

re room. Every head turne

ere sh

ring the frilly, tasteless dr

c she must have hidden in that ragged bag. The design was deceptively simple, the cut so precise it looked as though it had been sculpted onto her. Her dark,

de's presence at the first lunar gala, or the treaty would void. She was using th

lash of red on her lips. But her eyes... her eye

t a timid c

n arriving to c

. The whispers about a "feral" and "uncivilize

nsult. This was a threat. If she was no longer the invisible, wolfless embarrassment, then what was I? The Beaumont princess who wasn't even a Beaum

s hanging open.

lation. His eyes narrowed as he studied her, the way a merchant reappraises a piece he'd marked as worthless only to discover it might be worth something after all. He knew that as long as Au

short staircase, her heels clicking on the marble with a steady,

rby. "So that's the 'disgrace' they married off

y stepped forward and gave her a formal bow. "A beautiful night, made mo

ve nod and continued walking toward the

with anger. It was with intrigue

had destroyed my narrative and capture

ng. And I hat