DESDEMONA

The portrait refused to leave my mind. No matter how hard I tried to focus on my chores, my thoughts wandered back to Alpha Alaric's study.

To that hidden compartment and the folded painting the woman whose face carried the same loneliness I saw in his eyes whenever he thought no one was looking.

The Head Slave, Laura, barked another order from across the courtyard. "Desdemona! Stop standing there. The laundry won't wash itself."

"I'll do it now," I answered quietly, a bit of anger flashed in my voice. Annoyed.

I bent over the wooden basin and continued scrubbing the stained clothes, but my hands moved on their own....