Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
There was something about the way he looked at me that worries me. Whatever his plans are, I do not think they will work in my favor.
I have had no time to voice my concerns to Callum. He has been in meetings with the other alphas all day-leaving me in my chambers with Ryan at my door.
Now, we are seated at the alpha table-with Callum in deep conversation with his brother about battle tactics. As he has been for most of the evening.
I’m fiddling with my wooden beaker of water, when Blake drops into the empty chair beside me. He’s taken off his black coat, and his dark shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks.
“Hello, little rabbit.” I catch a hint of whisky on his breath. “Enjoying the festivities?”
“Are you drunk?”
“Exceedingly.” He leans over me to reach for a decanter full of amber-colored liquid. I have to lean back to prevent getting his armpit in my face. “Yet you are not drunk in the slightest. Something we simply must rectify.”
He tops up his glass, then fills my beaker and pushes it toward me. His eyes glint in the torchlight-curious and watchful. And certainly more intelligent than his current demeanor suggests. I wonder if he is even drunk, or whether this is just a game.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to drink all this and start behaving like that.”
I gesture at one of the men stumbling around on the dancefloor, who-as if knowing the point I’m trying to prove-trips over his boots and crashes into one of the tables, knocking over a chair and spilling a jug of ale.
A dimple creases one of Blake’s cheeks. “Not at all. I’m merely trying to help. You seem on edge, little rabbit. Whisky helps.”
“I’d prefer to keep my wits about me.”
I scan the Great Hall-filled with Wolves who gave me grief before they knew I was the Southlands princess. I catch sight of Isla, dancing and giggling with a group of women. I think of what Magnus tried to do to me. I cannot suppress the cold shiver that crawls up my spine despite the blazing heat in here.
“It’s a shame Magnus couldn’t make it tonight,” says Blake, as though he read my mind. “He got a nasty bout of food poisoning. As did his friends. They’re in my infirmary. Don’t worry, though. I’m taking care of them.”
His voice is as dark as the night outside the castle.
The Great Hall seems to still. The music fades. All I can hear is my heartbeat, pounding in my ears.
My gaze snaps up to Blake’s, and something in his eyes makes me shiver.
I recall the vial of poison he took from me in the kitchens; the one I was going to use on Isla. He said he had a use for it.
Did he use it on them?
The corner of his lip quirks in answer to my unasked question.
“Will they. . . will they survive?” I ask.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He shrugs. “What do you think?”
A shadow stirs inside me-provoked by the darkness in Blake’s gaze. Everything else seems distant.
He is offering to kill them for me. I do not know how to feel about that. They deserve death, for what they were intending to do. But could my conscience bear it?
I swallow. “I. . . I don’t know.”
“Pity.”
“Are they in pain?”
“Very much so.”
I grab my beaker with shaking hands, clutching at the wood until my knuckles whiten.
I smile. “Good.”
Blake raises his glass. And, Goddess help me, I clink my beaker against it and drain it. I wince as the hot smoky liquid burns my throat. Coughing, I place it back down upon the table.
Blake nudges the bottle toward me before getting up and walking back into the crowd.
I pour myself another whisky.
He’s right. It does take the edge off.
***
“You’re drunk!” Callum roars.
Hundreds of candles flicker on the tabletops, and the light dances over his handsome face.
James has gone to mingle with his people, so Callum and I are alone at the alpha table. The Great Hall is a blur of dancing and brawling and music.
I poke him in the chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. I giggle. “You’re drunk.”
He laughs, as if he cannot believe what he’s seeing.
“Aye, I am a bit. Not as much as you.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to be a bloody nightmare tomorrow when the hangover kicks in! Goddess! I’m a wee bit scared!”
“You’re scared of me?”
“Oh aye. Very.”
“You said I was small!”
“You are small. You’re a small and fearsome creature.”
His face swims in and out of focus. I grab both sides of his head, and push my forehead into his. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
He laughs again, and his big hands curl around my waist. “You see? Terrifying.”
I dip my mouth to his ear. “That thing you did last night. I want you to do it again.”
He stills, his fingers tightening, and a soft groan scrapes his throat. His expression is pained. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning, shall we?”
“No. Now.”
He twists me around and pulls me onto his lap. “You see? You’re a small, fearsome, and demanding creature.” His warm breath tickles my ear. “And, believe me when I say, if you torture me tonight, I shall repay the debt tomorrow.”
“I’m not torturing you!”
I try to face him, but he pulls me back again, his thick arm hooked around my waist. His chest rises and falls deeply against my back.
“Oh, but you are. I’m hard just thinking about what we did last night, and about how much I want to do it again right now.” His words turn my insides to molten gold. He nips my ear with his teeth and I gasp. “I’d slide my hand between your legs right now if I could. I’d make you come while they all danced-oblivious to what I was doing to you.”
My pulse hammers in my ears, heat pooling at my core. “Why don’t you do it then?”
The wolf is in his eyes, and he does not try to hide it. “Because you’re drunk. And I’m drunk. And I fear you’d regret it in the morning.”
I stroke the side of his face, my fingers tracing his lips. “I wouldn’t.”
His eyes return to their usual forest-green. “Be that as it may, I won’t take that risk while you’re drunk. I will dance with you, though.”
“I’m not drunk!”