“Also, you will be on call for the Duke’s personal use. So if he orders you here, by Goddess you should be here in less than two minutes with that cute little ass of yours on display.” The Dame took my hand in her own, like she was a caring mother at a sick child’s bedside.
For a second, I could have sworn I saw sympathy there; but the werewolf must have quickly masked it. “Listen,” she states, obviously feeling as guilty as she could for a human. “I will have the more harsher implements removed from your box. He did go too far on my merchandise. I cannot have my lot limping and bruised in the streets; it’s bad for business.”
I held my tongue as the nausea subsided, scoffing a little in my mind; of course we can’t be damaged beyond repair, cutting into your purse with the cost of a witch
