The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance
The Wolf King: Chapter 33

Callum stills.

He’s facing away from me, and the muscles in his back harden. I don’t think he’s breathing. I don’t think I am, either.

We are both frozen in time.

Only, my heartbeat is wild in my ears. Did I really just say that?

He turns around.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

“What?” His voice is low and gruff as gravel.

I raise my chin. “I thought Wolves had superhuman hearing?”

He lets loose a half-laugh. “Aye. But you can’t possibly have said what I think you just said.”

“Why not?”

The rise and fall of his chest is deeper than usual, as though he’s making a strained effort to control his breathing. His fingers twitch at his side. “You want. . . You want me to wash you?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You realize you’d have to take off your clothes for me to do that?”

“I am well aware of how a bath works, Callum. I have bathed many times before. More so, I’d imagine, than you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. There’s an exasperated look on his face. “I’d imagine you’ve not been bathed by a male before? No?”

“When I was at the palace, people would always fuss around me while I was bathing. I do not see why this is any different.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s different.”

“You Wolves all seem perfectly fine to wander around without wearing anything. I don’t see why I should be held to a higher set of rules.”

I slide off the bed and Callum tenses as I walk to the bathtub.

I’m hyperaware of him tracking my every movement, and it feels good to have so completely captured his attention. It feels powerful.

I run my hand through the water. It’s warm and soothing, and the steam carries the scent of lavender as it mingles with the woodsmoke. I wonder if Isla ran this bath for him. The thought of ruining her obvious plans to seduce him provokes a burst of satisfaction that startles me.

I glance over my shoulder at Callum. He looks wary.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“You’re going to get me into trouble.”

I am enjoying this far too much. “I thought you wanted to wash me.”

“Aye.” His eyes darken to the color of the forest at night. “I do.”

I stare at the steaming water.

As much as I’m enjoying feeling in control of this situation, if I do this, it will be the boldest thing I’ve ever done.

I said this was no different than being bathed back at the palace, but it is and we both know it. No man has ever seen me without my clothes on before. That is something that is supposed to be reserved only for my husband.

For Sebastian.

For a man who makes males from the Northlands fight for sport. Who threatened me. Who skins Wolves alive and hurt Ryan and said he’d throw me into the kennels for Callum after he was done with me.

Sebastian sees me as nothing more than a prize, a trophy for him to keep on show, an item for him to do with as he wishes.

But what about what I want?

The bedchambers are silent, except for the gentle crackling coming from the hearth. I can feel Callum watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. The tension in the room is like a tangible thing, the air unbreathable.

“Princess. . .” His voice is strained. Almost pleading. Though I’m not sure what he’s pleading for. I don’t think he knows, either.

My fingers tremble as I undo the fastenings on the back of my dress. I pull the sleeves down, and let it fall and pool at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a black shift.

Callum’s eyes are wide, and his hand is curled into a fist at his side. The distance between us feels palpable.

He doesn’t move. He is that alpha from the fighting ring again; tense and ready for battle.

I don’t want him to see the faint scars on my back—the ones that the High Priest gave me. So I face him when I take hold of the hem of my shift. His jaw tightens.

“Princess. . .” he says again, and I’m not sure if it’s a warning or a plea.

I imagine I am back at the palace, and merely undressing for any other bath, and lift it over my head, revealing myself fully to him.

Callum inhales, his mouth slightly parting. He lets loose a shuddery breath.

He keeps his eyes on mine, his jawline hard with determination. There’s defiance in his expression, too. It’s as if he’s fighting something.

But then his gaze drops.

And, Goddess, I feel the weight of it on my body. Though I’m standing close to the fire, my nipples harden. My breasts feel heavier, swollen. And there’s an ache between my legs.

I cannot believe I am doing this. I should grab my shift and cover myself up. Yet I allow his gaze to brand my skin, and I feel powerful. I like the way his expression changes, his biceps tensing.

The wolf flashes behind Callum’s eyes. He squeezes them shut and curses under his breath.

I step into the copper bathtub. The water is warm and fragrant as I sink down into it, letting it soothe my muscles and wrap around my body until only my head and shoulders are exposed.

Callum looks like he’s in pain. I’ve never seen someone look so tense.

“Well?” I say.

The ghost of a smile plays on his lips. He blinks a few times, and he arches an eyebrow. “Have I told you that people don’t speak to me that way?”

“Several times.”

He huffs a laugh. Shaking his head, he crosses the room. With each step he takes toward me, my heart beats a little faster.

When he reaches the tub, he sinks to his knees, bringing his face close to mine. His warmth and heady scent mingle with the steam.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, though I feel more daring than I have ever felt in my life. “People bathe me all the time. It’s just a bath.”

His eyes glint as though he can see through my lie.

He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, and for a horrible moment, I think he is going to walk away.

He laughs again, and shakes his head.

He reaches for the bar of soap and the cloth that sit on the tray on the floor, then trails his hand in the water. He doesn’t touch me, but I feel his heat on my torso as though he is. He lathers the soap between his big hands—releasing the scent of soap suds into his bedchambers.

The humor disappears from his eyes. “I can smell him on your face.”

I remember how Blake licked me last night.

I sink beneath the water, and rub my cheeks. When I emerge, Callum’s muscles seem a little less tense.

“Better?” I ask.

“Aye.” He gives me a soft smile. “Much.”

He runs the soapy cloth over my shoulder, then down my arm. I can feel the heat of his palm, even though his skin is not touching mine.

I revel in the strangeness of this new feeling. No one has touched me this way before. I should feel vulnerable and exposed. Goddess knows, I am those things. But my body is soft beneath his touch, and it feels as if his hands were made for me.

He moves the cloth over my collarbone, causing my pulse to spike, and watches the trail of soapy suds he leaves in his wake. His hand seems so big when it’s on my body.

My gaze moves back to his face.

Despite the heat that’s pooling between my legs that has nothing to do with the warm water, his expression almost makes me laugh.

His jaw is set with determination, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so focused.

His hand dips beneath the waterline, slowly moving down my chest. I feel his thumb brush against the swell of my breast and I know he must be able to feel how hard my heart is beating.

Why do I, so badly, want to tease him?

“I thought you said you weren’t ever going to touch me,” I say.

“I’m not touching you.” His serious eyes follow his hand as it trails back between my breasts. “I’m touching the cloth. And the cloth is touching you.”

A laugh I didn’t know was building erupts from my lips.

“What?”

“Nothing. . . just. . . you.” I look pointedly at his hand, splayed across my chest. The cloth is barely visible beneath it. “I would definitely consider this as you touching me.”

He grins. “You’d know if I was really touching you, Princess.”

I do know, I want to tell him. I know he is touching me because my whole body is on fire and there’s something inside me that aches to be released and no one’s hands have ever brought me to life like that before.

His expression darkens as if he’s sensed the direction of my thoughts.

He shuts his eyes abruptly, hiding the wolf.

“Why do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

I touch his cheek, dampening his skin with my wet hand. “You shut your eyes every time it happens. Are you embarrassed by the wolf?”

“Embarrassed? No. Never.” He opens his eyes, revealing those strange yet beautiful irises. “I’m proud to be a wolf. But I don’t want to scare you.”

“I’ve already told you that you don’t.”

“You’re very strange.”

“So are you.”

I trace his jaw with my thumb. Slowly, he moves his hand up to the back of my neck. His grip is firm, yet my body softens at his touch. His face is inches from mine, and his warm breath tickles my skin.

My pulse thunders in my ears.

“Rory.” His voice is strained, barely louder than a whisper. He presses his forehead against mine, bringing his lips closer. “You need to tell me to leave. I want to be a better man, but I don’t think I can be.”

“Callum—”

The door opens behind us and adrenaline and shame surge through me.

“What on earth have I walked in on here?” Blake’s amused drawl comes from the doorway and a look of fury crosses Callum’s face as he jerks back, his shoulders stiffening.

I sink further beneath the water, cheeks flaming as I glare over my shoulder at the male leaning against the doorframe.

“I had fun last night, little rabbit.” Blake’s lips curve into a smile. “We should do it again sometime.”

Callum gets up, water running down his arms, and crosses the room in a couple of strides. He grabs Blake by the collar of his shirt, and slams him into the wall.

“Before you do something you regret, Callum,” says Blake, his voice choked. “I have a message from the king.”