The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance
The Wolf King: Chapter 9

We’ll have the power to win this war.

We ride onward.

The night is quiet except for the sound of the horse’s hooves and the whisper of the wind in the trees. It emphasizes how alone we are out here. How alone I am—with a man who is plotting against my father.

His chest rises and falls steadily against my back.

“What makes you so sure Sebastian has what you’re looking for?” I ask.

I sense him deciding whether or not to answer. “I have my sources.”

“You have spies in Sebastian’s castle, you mean.” I recall his certainty that he was going to escape when I tended to Ryan’s wounds. “They let you out of the kennels, I presume?”

“Aye. And they confirm what . . . what someone from the Lowfell Clan has been telling us.” His tone darkens and I get the impression that whoever this someone is, the alpha doesn’t care too much for them.

“But you didn’t replace it.”

“It wasn’t where we thought it would be.”

I think of the carnage we left behind at Sebastian’s castle; the dead guards in the entrance hall, the flames in the courtyard, the shouting and the cries of death. “Your siege was pointless, then.”

His arm tightens around my waist. “I wouldn’t say that.”

My heart thuds faster as I realize I may be out of my depth.

I have no doubt Sebastian will wage war to get me back. I am his property, and I have been stolen from him. He will not let that go unanswered. But he does not care whether I live or die. Not really.

And the alpha is naïve if he thinks Sebastian will trade this powerful relic for me.

I am worth nothing.

I wonder what will happen to me when the Wolves finally figure that out.

***

We stop in a clearing by the bank of the loch, and the alpha dismounts.

It’s so dark all I can make out is his shadowy form. The air is thick with the scent of pine and grass, and water moves and ripples somewhere behind him.

“We’re resting here until morning. Come,” he says.

I fold my arms. “You do realize both Sebastian and my father will send their armies north to replace me? They’ll ride day and night to capture my kidnapper. It won’t end well for you if they do.”

It won’t end well for me, either.

“People really don’t talk to me that way.”

“Yes, you said.”

“They call this place Glen Marb—the Valley of Death,” says the alpha. “It was a battleground, centuries go. They say the souls of the Wolves who died here haunt the valley, seeking vengeance. If you listen carefully, you can hear them howling.”

My insides tighten when I hear hollow wails in the distance. I snap my head toward him, alarmed.

He grins. “Just the wind. A silly superstition, but Sebastian believes it. He won’t send his men here. We’re safe until morning. Come.”

This time, when he puts his hands around my waist and lowers me to the ground, I don’t fight him.

I am a princess, and he stole me from my bed and brought me here. He should be serving me. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I am fed up of feeling weak.

If we were in the palace, and I was dressed up in one of my favorite dresses at one of the balls, things would be quite different, I’m sure.

I wince when my feet touch the sodden earth. The alpha’s big hands tighten around my hips, the heat seeping through my nightdress. My cheeks flush. Men are not supposed to stand this close to me. Especially big alpha warrior men who are plotting against my father.

“Ghealach,” he curses under his breath. “Your feet.”

Above, the clouds shift, illuminating the valley and the moonlit loch. My gaze is fixed on the alpha. He’s looking at my bare feet and a flicker of something. . . shame, perhaps. . . crosses his face.

“You’re hurt.” He swallows, shaking his head. “Forgive me, Princess. I forget sometimes, how fragile humans are.”

“Fragile?” I slap his wrists and he finally releases me. “We may not all be big oafs like you, but that doesn’t make us fragile.”

One of my soles hurts from running barefoot out of the Borderlands castle. I must have cut it on a stone or twig when we escaped. I want to take a look, but not with the alpha looming over me.

“Let me see.” He steps forward.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a cut.”

His nostrils flare. “You’re not fine. I can smell blood.”

“Firstly, that’s horrifying,” I tell him, folding my arms. “And secondly, if it bothers you so much, then next time you come crashing into a lady’s bedchambers, let her get dressed before you kidnap her.”

His face falls. “Aye. I should’ve done that. I’m sorry. . . I truly am.” The sight of a big bloodthirsty warrior sheepishly apologizing causes a strange feeling of power to surge through me. Until he steps forward. “Now, if you’ll just let me take a look—”

“No.”

“Let me see!”

“If you come any closer, I will. . . I will take my leave of you!”

He stills and I think I’ve won, but the corner of his lip twitches. Slowly, he raises his hands.

“Okay.” His tone is placating, at odds with his large physique. “Okay. At least sit down. I’ll water the horse, light us a fire. Okay?”

He leads the horse down to the loch.

I shiver, and pull my furs closer. It is never this cold in the King’s City.

There’s a copse of fir trees nearby, so while he’s fussing with the horse, I select some dry twigs and branches, and a flint rock. By the time he returns with a flask, I’m sitting and warming my hands by a small fire. The crackle of flames adds to the sound of the wind and the water.

He looks at me curiously.

“I didn’t think you’d know how to do that,” he says.

I tuck my knees beneath my chin, basking in the heat that washes over my face. “Do you know a lot about princesses, wolf?”

“It seems not.” He sits down beside me, and nods at the flames. “Did your father teach you?”

He sounds skeptical, and he’s right to be. The only thing my father taught me was how to act like a lady so that he could parade me around in front of suitors.

“My mother.” I chew my bottom lip. I’m unused to people asking me questions about myself, and it feels strange. “She was from the Snowlands, originally.”

“Ah, well, I hear it’s pretty cold over there.”

“Yes.” I pull the cloak closer around me. “The clue is in the name.”

The alpha laughs, a soft, surprised sound. “Aye. That it is.” He hands me his flask. “If you won’t let me tend to it, at least clean your cut. I don’t want to have to take you to the healer when we get to the castle.”

I pick up on the darkness in his tone. “You don’t like healers?” I wash the blood off my sole. There’s barely a scratch there and I’ve always healed quickly. It should be fine in a couple of days.

“This particular healer is an obnoxious prick who I’d rather we avoid.”

The shadows curl around us, and my breath mists in front of my face. I nod at his pack. “Shouldn’t you be putting up the tent?”

“The tent?”

“I thought we were staying until morning. Where am I going to sleep?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “You can check for a four-poster bed in there if you like, Princess. But I’m pretty sure I forgot to pack it.”

“You want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Aye.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

His eyebrows dip in confusion, before he nods at the ground.

“You’re going to lie down beside me as if you were. . . as if you were my husband?”

“Well. . . not exactly like that, no.” There’s a wicked glint in his eye and I flush. “Now, behave yourself and lie down. You’ll catch your death of cold if I move away.” He lies on his back, clasping his hands behind his head. “I know, it’s scandalous. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

When he winks, I huff and lie on my side, turning away from him.

The grass is surprisingly soft. I’m not sure if it’s because the mountains block the wind, or if it’s the alpha’s strange body heat—but some of the stiffness in my body eases.

“What is your name?” I ask, suddenly.

“Callum.” His voice is soft, and lilts slightly, as though he’s surprised I asked.

“Callum?”

“Aye.” He sounds amused. “Is there something wrong with my name?”

“No. . . I. . .” I glance at him over my shoulder. I take in his hard jaw covered in stubble, his wild hair, and his large biceps, bulging against his sleeves. “I expected you to have a more. . . brutish name. The name Callum makes me think of a mischievous young boy.”

He chuckles. “Believe it or not, I was a mischievous wee lad once.” His eyes glint playfully in the firelight and I can almost imagine it.

It warms something inside me, and I look away before he catches me smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Callum. I’m—”

“Your name is Rory,” he says, and I bristle. Nobody calls me that, and it’s far too familiar for a wolf who has stolen me from my bed.

“I’m Princess Aurora.”

He merely chuckles.

Before long, all I can hear is the crackle of the fire and Callum’s breathing.

I don’t know how I’m going to sleep under these conditions.

I’ve been taken by the Wolves. Tomorrow, I’ll be presented to the mysterious Wolf King. And right now, I’m lying beside a man who is not my husband.

I gasp as the realization of where I should be right now crashes over me.

Callum stiffens. “Princess?”

I roll onto my back. “I was supposed to marry Sebastian tonight. I should. . . I should be his wife right now.”

Callum turns his head to the side. “Aye.”

A warmth builds inside me. I don’t hide the slow smile that spreads across my face as I turn my gaze to the infinite sky.

I feel Callum’s eyes on me for a moment longer, before he too looks toward the stars.

“I told you he wouldn’t touch you,” he says.