The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance
The Wolf King: Chapter 49

For a moment I am speechless.

My gaze travels up his black shirt, now buttoned up to the collar, and lands on his face. I cannot read his expression. He seems serious, yet his eyes glint in the torchlight as though they hold a thousand secrets.

The dancefloor blurs behind him as people slow their steps to the new melody that’s playing. Where have I heard this song before?

“You want to dance with me?” I ask.

“Yes.”

A giggle escapes my lips, and Blake tilts his head to the side—the movement almost catlike. “Does that amuse you, little rabbit?”

I lean back against the table and take a sip from my beaker—welcoming the coldness of the water as it travels down my throat. I am hot. Too hot. And my mind feels fuzzy from all the whisky.

Blake tracks my every movement as I brush a strand of hair out of my face.

“Do you think me a fool, Blake?”

“On the contrary. Dance with me.”

“If you mean to provoke Callum, he’s otherwise engaged.” I put down my beaker and raise an eyebrow. “You’re wasting your time.”

He smiles, dimples puncturing his cheeks. I could almost forget that he is a manipulative snake when he looks at me like that.

“I am not trying to provoke your master, little rabbit. That would be a waste of my time.”

“What are you trying to do, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I frown. “Callum is not my master.”

“Prove it.” He glances at his hand, still outstretched. “Dance with me.”

The shadows in the Great Hall seem to gravitate toward him as the candles flicker, as though attracted to whatever darkness resides in his soul.

I laugh and shake my head. “Do you truly think me so easily manipulated?”

He smirks. “Oh, darling, I know exactly how to manipulate you.”

“I’m not dancing with you, am I?”

“No. But you will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He steps forward, and places both hands on the table on either side of me. I breathe in sharply, inhaling his scent of the forest at night, as he dips his mouth to my ear.

“Because I’m playing a game, little rabbit.” His warm breath tickles my cheek. “And a part of you wants to play too—just to see if you can beat me.”

He turns his face toward mine, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

Then he steps back and I can breathe again.

“Why would I play a game with you when I am at a disadvantage?” I say. “I do not know the rules, nor the prize.”

“No. But don’t you want to replace out?”

He holds out his hand.

My mother used to tell me stories about Night—the deity who holds the keys to the Moon Goddess’s prison. He tempts mortals into making deals with him, offering them what they desire in exchange for their souls.

Blake reminds me of him right now. Dangerous and strange with eyes gleaming with dark promises.

And I hate that I am tempted. Because he is right; I do want to replace out what he is scheming.

Yet if I dance with him, what part of my soul will he claim?

He raises an eyebrow.

I raise my chin.

Perhaps the warm, smoky alcohol I have consumed is giving me false confidence, but I do not think that Blake is as smart as he thinks he is.

I place my hand in his.

A slow smile spreads across his face as his fingers curl around mine. He leads me to the dancefloor.

He raises our joined hands, and places his other on my waist.

“Do you know the Dance of the Dawn?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“This music follows the same rhythm.”

He pulls me closer, and I place a hand on his shoulder. “You wish to perform a Southlands dance in a hall full of northerners?”

“We are both Southlanders, are we not?”

“Is that the game? You wish to antagonize everyone here?”

“Let’s play and replace out, shall we?”

I incline my head. “Very well.”

I step back and he releases me.

I curtsy and he bows, as is tradition, and then we dance.

We step forward, raising our hands, palms almost touching, as we circle one another. We change direction—our gazes locked, our steps careful. Graceful. Wary. Blake’s eyes track my every movement as though he is a predator, hunting his prey.

I think that people are watching us, but it would be unwise to look away from the wolf before me.

As the dance progresses, it requires closer contact. Blake’s hand curls around mine once more, his other flattening on the small of my back as he spins us around. My hand rests gently on his shoulder, and I fight the urge to sink my fingers into the hard muscle as he moves us faster and faster.

His steps are graceful, his poise strong and confident. He is a good dancer. Too good.

“You said you were part of the King’s Guard,” I say.

“I did.”

“I did not know that members of the King’s Guard had cause to learn to dance.” I lift an eyebrow. “Certainly not this well.”

He smirks as we continue our dance around the edge of the dancefloor. “You think I dance well? I should be flattered by such a compliment coming from the princess herself.”

“I think you’re a liar. You were not part of the King’s Guard, were you? You’re a man of noble birth. There is no other explanation for why you can dance.”

He spins me under his arm, and I inhale sharply as he pulls me back again. “Interesting theory, little rabbit. I assure you, I was in the King’s Guard, I am not a man of noble birth, and there is another explanation.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Nor should you.”

“Tell me the explanation.”

“I already have. In a way.”

“Stop speaking in riddles. Tell me what I want to know.” I raise my chin. “Or I will tell everyone your secret.” I smile sweetly. “I think there may be a storm coming.”

I expect him to blanch, for his shoulder to tense beneath my fingers. Instead he smiles, pulling me closer.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “My account of what you were doing in my chambers late at night will be quite different to yours, I assure you.” His tone is as dark and seductive as the night sky.

The heat drains from my body as we continue to circle the dancefloor. My pulse pounds so hard in my ears that it almost drowns out the sound that has chilled me to my core. I’m still dancing, but my movements no longer feel like my own. Everything blurs. It is Blake who is leading me, like a puppet master, commanding his toy.

The music has reached its crescendo, and the reason why it seemed familiar to me is now clear. I recognize this part of the song.

It is the same melody my mother used to sing to me at night.

The same melody I hummed to Blake when he was afraid.

Why would a band of Wolves in the Northlands know the tune my mother loved so dearly?

Blake is watching me curiously, his head tilted slightly to one side.

I narrow my eyes. “What is this?”

“What is what?” His expression of faux innocence is betrayed by the hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Why did you ask them to play this music?”

“It is a well-known wolf melody,” he says, feigning confusion. “About the Elderwolf and his love for the Moon. I thought you might like it. Do you not?”

I try to pull away, but his hand tightens around mine. His slender fingers are like a cold vice. He spins me around. “Do you recognize it?” he asks.

“You know I do. Let me go.”

“That wouldn’t be wise, little rabbit. Everyone is watching us. Including James.”

I look around. People are staring at us curiously from the benches, the alcoves, the sides of the hall. The dancefloor has cleared, leaving us at its center. I do not know when that happened.

The Wolf King is leaning forward in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face.

I search for Callum, seeking a lifeline out of this situation, but he must have left the hall to speak with Fiona.

I am truly alone.

My eyes meet Blake’s. “I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

“You should care.”

“Why?”

He moves forward so his cheek almost touches mine, and lowers his voice. “Because you are in danger. Do you truly believe James will let you stay?”

“No. But how does dancing with you help my situation?”

“That is the game, little rabbit. Play with me, and replace out.”

I’m about to tell him that I’ll take my chances, when his gaze flits over my shoulder. “Too late.”

He drops my hand just as a wave of warmth washes over me. Before I can turn, I’m scooped up into big strong arms. I breathe in sharply, hooking my hands around Callum’s neck, my eyes widening in surprise as he claims my mouth with his.

It is not a gentle kiss. It is hard and deep and claiming. His tongue moves in strong, dominant strokes against mine. Heat floods through my body, melting the ice, as my grip tightens around his neck. I have to fight the moan that threatens to escape me. Too many people are watching.

The wolf is in his eyes when he pulls back and glares at Blake.

Blake steps back, his eyes dancing with amusement.

I feel both him and the Wolf King watching us as Callum carries me out of the Great Hall.

Callum snaps his fingers at Ryan as we pass. “Ryan, I’m putting the princess to bed. You’ll guard her door while I attend to some business.”

Ryan disentangles himself from his girlfriend, Becky, and grumbles as he follows us through the castle to my bedchambers.

“Put me down,” I hiss as soon as we’re out of earshot of the hall.

“No.”

“I don’t want to go to bed.”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “You’re going to bed. And you’ll stay there until I return.”

“You’re angry with me,” I say as he carries me up the winding staircase to my chambers.

“No.” He doesn’t look at me.

He pushes the door open, then drops me ungracefully on my bed.

“Callum!”

The wolf is in his eyes. He looks like a bloodthirsty warrior. Then he blinks and releases a long breath.

“No.” He shakes his head, suddenly looking weary. “No. I’m not angry with you, Princess.”

I do not believe him. I wonder if it’s because I danced with Blake, or whether something worse is going on. I push myself upright. “What did Fiona want?”

“I’ll tell you shortly.” He runs a hand over his mouth. “I need to go check on something. Stay here.”

Before I can respond, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I hear Ryan grumbling on the other side.

“Oi. That woman in there saved your life. Twice,” Callum growls. “You can go back to smooching with your girlfriend later. But now, you’ll stop being an insolent pup and you’ll do as I say.”

“Sorry,” mutters Ryan.

“Aye. I know. Now, no one goes in, and the princess doesn’t come out. Understood?”

“I can hardly stop her if—”

“You’ll replace a way.” Callum sounds uncharacteristically brittle. “I trust you, okay? Don’t let me down.”

“No.” I hear the sudden pride in Ryan’s voice. “I won’t.”

***

I wake with a start.

There’s a hand over my mouth. I struggle with my covers, my legs tangled in my skirts. A face comes into focus in the darkness, and my pulse steadies.

Callum crouches on the floorboards beside my bed.

He puts a finger on his lips, before pulling his palm away.

“Get dressed,” he whispers, nodding at a pile of clothes he’s placed by my feet. “And put on your boots.”

My breathing quickens at the note of urgency in his voice. I cannot help but think of the first time he took me from my chambers. He told me to get dressed, then. I refused to do anything he said.

This time, I comply.

I hurry out of bed, my mind fuzzy from the whisky. My pulse kicks up when I see it is brown breeches and a white shirt that he has selected for me.

I have never worn breeches before. It would be improper. I have always worn pretty dresses.

I swallow. Then I turn, allowing Callum to untie the fastenings of my dress and undo my corset. His gaze burns into my back and he tenses. I suppose with his wolf sight, he can see my scars in the darkness.

I hurriedly pull on my new clothes and boots. When I turn, his jawline is hard. He fastens my cloak around my neck.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

“James,” he says darkly. “I’ll explain when we’re safe. Come.” He holds out his hand. “We’re leaving.”

I save my questions. The worry in his brow, and the shallowness of his breathing, are the only answers I need right now. Whatever Fiona told him, whatever he was checking up on earlier, must be bad.

I take his hand, feeling his comforting warmth as his fingers close around mine.

He leads me out of my chambers. We hurry through the dark labyrinth of the castle. We take the servants’ corridors, avoiding the Great Hall, where the Wolves are still drinking and dancing despite the late hour.

We reach the entrance hall and my heart leaps.

The doors at the other end are already open, the night spilling onto the flagstones. I can taste heather and the mountains on the back of my tongue.

I can taste freedom.

Until Blake saunters across the room, his footsteps echoing around the space. He stops in front of the doorway, blocking our escape.

Callum stills, pushing me behind him.

“Going somewhere?” asks Blake.

His dark hair ripples in the breeze that comes from outside.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” warns Callum, his voice low, almost a growl.

“You won’t hurt me,” says Blake. “Because if we fight, we’ll make noise. And if we make noise, your brother will come looking. I don’t think he’ll be very happy that you’re stealing his bargaining chip for the Heart of the Moon, do you?”

Callum swallows. I’ve never seen him so tense. He looks as if he’s weighing his options, wondering whether he can fight his way out before his brother arrives with backup.

I don’t like our chances. I can hear the music and dancing from here.

I step out from behind him.

“Please, Blake,” I say softly.

Blake’s body is perfectly still for a moment. I cannot read him. I cannot understand what is going on in his mind right now.

Then he inclines his head and steps aside.

Callum releases a breath, then grabs my hand again.

“Run fast, little rabbit,” says Blake as we pass. “The Wolves are coming for you now.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as we step into the courtyard.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He smiles. “The game is far from over.”

A chill ripples through me, but Callum is pulling me across the cobbled stones. We rush to the stables, where Fiona is waiting beside the grey horse we rode here on. There are two bulky bags packed and strapped to the saddle.

“You took your sweet time,” she says, hands on her hips.

She hugs Callum and he pulls her close. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Aye, well, no need to get all emotional about it.” She turns to me. “Good luck, Rory. I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”

I return her smile, despite the worry clenching in my stomach. “I hope so, too.”

Callum helps me onto the horse before mounting behind me.

And then we’re riding out of the castle gates, and across the wild terrain.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask. My voice is almost drowned out by the sound of the hooves thudding against the mud, and the pounding of my heartbeat.

“James sent a messenger to Sebastian. Everything my brother said. . . it was a lie. He means to send you back in exchange for the Heart of the Moon. Sebastian is on his way.”

My stomach drops, and Callum’s arm tightens around my waist.

“He can’t have you.” His voice is hard. Angrier than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m taking you away from all this. I’m taking you to Highfell.” He pulls me closer to him, and his body heat washes over me. “I’m taking you home.”