Saturday, December 19th - Evening
"Izabel," her name hissed through his lips as Roman clenched his fists, trying to leash his temper. Yet again he called to her, the one who would be his first bride and the one who lured him back to this dull village in the first place, and once more he could sense her frustration at being unable to answer his summons.
It was the wolf's fault, surely. She only denied him when she couldn't get away from her precious Remus without arousing suspicion.
Tonight was to have been the third exchange. Tonight she would have been his for eternity.
"As soon as you are safely mine, I will kill that meddlesome wolf myself. Nothing shall keep us apart, my love. Nothing."
One of the wretched house-elf creatures was cringing in the door way, a bottle of champagne clutched in its spindly fingers. It asked if one of the Master's ladies would be visiting and if he would like the fire lit.
Roman glanced around the bedroom that had been carefully prepared for Izabel's turning. Silk sheets of purest white, fur throw on the settee, candles... the large bed.
He wasn't in the mood to tread delicately with Rose's purity, his anger at Izabel's absence might disturb her. There would be time enough to begin the process with her when he could control his need.
Daphne, my dove. Come to me.