Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance Read Online Free

heats.”
    Senna
stepped out of the silks, letting them fall to the floor in a heap, leaving her
in just her own white silk shift, and all her jewelry. She plucked away from
her body where the corset had made it stick, so that it brushed against her full
breasts and hips, like the softest desert breeze, skimming over her waist,
wrapping briefly around her thighs.
    She
stepped over the silks, barely resisted the urge to kick them aside, the silk
molding for a moment against her thighs, like a lover’s caress. Anacelia was
right; they had been a gift. And the Ottway was probably going to want to see
her wearing them again. At the thought of seeing that man, her heart sank.
    “Sit.
And take off your jewels. I don’t want to catch those earrings with the brush.”
Anacelia pulled out the chair by the big mirror. Senna obediently sat down,
reaching up to undo the clasp of the silver necklace she’d worn. It had been
her mother’s, and Senna had worn it for as long as she could remember. While
Anacelia waited, Senna set the necklace aside, then quickly removed her
earrings and the multitude of rings she’d worn, specifically at her father’s
orders. Specifically, to impress the Ottway with her wealth. That was all fine
and good, and he’d been properly impressed, but he’d eyed her necklace with a
skeptical frown, and pronounced it common.
    With
infinite care Anacelia began removing the plethora of jeweled pins that held
Senna’s long hair in place. Gradually the long strands fell around her
shoulders as a mountain of pins accumulated on the dressing table.
    “Who
in the world did your hair?” Anacelia dragged an ivory brush through Senna’s
hair. “There are more knots in here than in a prayer chain.”
    “He
sent a girl. I told him...” She winced as Anacelia tugged at a knot of hair. “I
told him I could do it myself, but he insisted.”
    “Well,
be patient with me. It will take some time to undo this mess. And...” Another
painful tug. “You need your hair done. Henna and indigo. To make your hair as
beautiful as your face.”
    Senna
looked at their reflections in the mirror, watching Anacelia’s nimble fingers
working with her hair. Anacelia had been saying that since Senna was a little
girl, from the first time she’d mixed the evil-smelling batch of henna and
indigo. Senna had run away, hiding in the garden. Anacelia had tracked her
down, promising to make it smell better. She’d shown Senna the way to mix
powdered herbs and myrrh into the mix. And how that made it smell like heaven.
From then it had been a ritual, each month, to have Anacelia coat her hair with
henna, pile the long strands on her head and wrap her hair up in a white towel.
Then she’d spend the day sequestered in her rooms, waiting for the mixture to
work its magic.
    It
was more than just a beauty ritual; it gave her a day to be alone, to beg off
social engagements, to read what she wanted, to listen to music her father
claimed was inappropriate for a Princess. She would wind up the music box,
choosing from an assortment of brass rolls that held different musical pieces.
Her father favored light pieces, high notes, and flowing melodies, but Senna
wanted darker pieces, low throbbing beats, minor chords, and keys.
    Then
Anacelia would come in the afternoon and patiently wash the dried henna out of
her hair. And when Senna’s long hair was dried and brushed, it would be soft
and lush and dark, highlights so black they looked indigo. The feel of it in
the dark, touching her shoulders, cascading over her breasts… it was magical.
    “But
you were in the sun without a sunshade. You have freckles across your cheeks.
We need to find some lemon juice for those.”
    Senna
leaned forward, wrinkling her nose. “I took walks in the afternoon. There was
nothing to do, really. And the food was so heavy. It felt good to be out. But
they don’t have any kind of gardens or trees.” She made a face. “How can there
not be gardens at a