#Chapter 102 – The Dinner

Alyson I'm paraded in a short pink dress, one that hardly fits me at all. It's frustrating to keep the ends of the fabric down below my backside, something that amuses Olivera as I shift uneasily in my seat. He rests a hand under my leg at the table, the same dining room he had once chained me to the table pole before. I try to ignore our old squabbles as it appears our new ones are far more dire and wounding. The food is brought out, a handful of rogue wolves at the table picking over several plates of dashing, delicious food. I ignore my plate, wishing I could ignore the hand on my thigh as well. Olivera wants a docile little house pet, a kitten, and I refuse to be that for him. I shove his hand off my leg, ignoring his warning of a stare. He wipes at his mouth with a wet, white napkin, and looks over his table, proud but distracted with me by his side. "A toast to war," he exclaims proudly, everyone raising their glass. Everyone except