Beauty and the Wolf Read Online Free

thought drew Draven’s smoldering stare that much closer.
    Remembering her plan to seduce her estranged husband, she unclasped the top buttons of her dress and shimmied her ample cleavage upward—as she had seen a disreputable woman do once. She was wholly uncomfortable with being a Jezebel, but she was willing to do it in the name of seduction. And what better opportunity to seduce Draven than on the night they were reunited?
    The carriage rattled on and the oppressive house Isabella had spent but a short while in came into view. It looked more eerie than she remembered. The rambling structure loomed over a bevy of turbulent waves like an abandoned lighthouse. At the very apex of Thorncliff Towers, thick stones formed individual thorn-covered spires, undoubtedly inspiring the estate’s name. The estate seemed to scrutinize the coastal town of Dunwich with cold insurgency while its shadowy, unkempt grounds coaxed Isabella’s neck hair to stand on edge.
    The coach sped over a final grade like an angry black raven. Still rumbling violently, it entered a courtyard bordered by clipped hedges where it rolled to a halt.
    The smell of brine filled her nostrils as the driver opened the door. She stood and craned her head forward in order to take in the sheer size of the house. Her upward gaze skimmed the pattern of stones and came to rest on a window in the house’s south turret. Lightning flashed and though her vision was obscured by the downpour, she could have sworn she saw a male figure watching her from the window. The jaunt of the man’s head and the broadness of his shoulders were familiar but as quickly as the lightning flashed, the figure disappeared.
    Was Draven watching me?
    Plagued by a prickling of nerves, she accepted the driver’s hand and forced herself to make contact with the ground. Her half boots sunk into the muddy earth.
    “Bloody rain!” She rather enjoyed spewing her second profanity of the day.
    Trudging through the mud, Isabella made her way to the marble-coated portico where she located the bell pull. The squall hissed angrily behind her. She gave the cord a tug and waited. The latch flipped over and the portal creaked open to reveal a grim and pervading darkness.

Chapter Three
    W hile Draven slept, a scattering of dark clouds gathered to release a full-blown storm. Thunder boomed and jostled him out of his slumber. As rain pelted the window, he rolled over in bed with a groan.
    Isabella.
    Thoughts of her frustrated, saddened, and aroused him. He had yearned for her like a dying flower needs water during their separation, but he was thankful that she hadn’t seen him transform on their wedding night. The wolf bite he received the night before they married had condemned him to the dark side. Since then, he’d become doomed to change into a bloodlusting wolf beneath every full moon—for all eternity.
    On the nights he shape-shifted, Draven prowled the limits of Dunwich, forcing himself to feast on cows and farm animals instead of seeking human blood. Although he hadn’t killed anyone in his canine form yet, restraining himself was proving to be pure hell. He kept the monster at bay by locking himself inside his suites for twenty-odd days every month—eating, working, and sleeping in complete solitude.
    That solitude reminded him of a place he never wanted to visit again. The asylum .
    Detesting himself, Draven slid his feet to the floor and padded to the mullion-paned window. He pushed a hand through his hair as he stared at the road leading away from the estate. Isabella could be arriving any minute. Unless, perhaps, she had decided to stay in London after reading his response to her letter. Of course, his correspondence may have missed her altogether. Bloody unreliable post.
    But knowing what he did of his wife, he surmised that she had received his letter and chose to ignore his warnings not to come. That is why he had refused to send a coach to gather her in Dunwich. The last thing Draven