Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
It is like I am underwater. The room swims around me. The fire in the hearth, the battered armchairs, and James’s face pulse in and out of focus.
He wants me to marry him?
Fire erupts from the pits of my soul. It surges through my body and spills out of my mouth before I can even weigh up my options.
“No,” I say.
My pulse calms. The edges of the wooden fireplace, the pattern of the sun on the worn rug, the tattered leather beneath my fingertips, all come back into focus.
James shifts and the chair squeaks beneath his large frame. His jaw hardens, just like Callum’s does when he is displeased.
“No?” he says.
“No.”
Blake watches from the window and there’s a calculated look of disinterest on his face.
“I offer my protection, and the most coveted position for a woman among the Kingdom of Wolves, and you turn me down?” James’s voice is soft, but there’s a note of anger rippling through it.
“You offer me protection from a danger of your own devising! You know that Callum and I are. . .” I trail off, not sure how to end that sentence.
“You and Callum are what? Married? No. Does your union with him offer any political advantage? No. You’ve gone off and lived your wee fantasy for a while, but it’s time to come back to the real world now, Aurora. Blake told me you were smart. Do not disappoint me.”
I grit my teeth, trying to swallow the rising storm. Of course Blake had something to do with this.
I glare at James. “Callum is your brother.”
And I think that I am falling in love with him.
“Aye. And he needs to come back and live in the real world, too.” He shakes his head, his brown hair brushing his broad shoulders. “Callum cannot offer you anything. I am the king, and I am offering to make you my queen. Do not be a fool, Aurora.”
My breathing is fast. Waves of venom ripple through me, tainted by fear. I am like a cornered viper, a wall behind my back and a cage in front of me. This cannot be my fate. I cannot have escaped one marriage, only to be forced into another.
“What do you think Sebastian will do to you when he realizes my brother has had you first?” says James. “It doesn’t please me, either. I am willing to overlook it.”
My pulse accelerates again. Not only at the thought of what Sebastian might do to me, but also at the thought of what James will expect from his wife if I were to accept his offer. If I marry him, I will have to submit my body to him too.
No. I will not do it.
“I will not marry you. Not now. Not ever.”
James’s face darkens. “I am the Wolf King.”
“You are the Wolf King because Callum allowed you to be.”
A flash of pain bursts into my cheek and my head is snapped to the side as James backhands me. My mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood, which sprays across the rug. Cold adrenaline floods my body. The backs of my eyes burn.
I blink hard.
I force my gaze back to James, my cheek burning and strands of hair hanging in front of my eyes. “I will never marry you.”
He’s settling back in his chair, his face like stone.
Over his shoulder, I notice Blake watching. His expression is nonchalant. Bored, even. I catch a flash of darkness behind his eyes. When he sees me looking, he leans back against the window ledge and moves his gaze to the mountains outside.
I feel another burst of hatred so strong that I fear I will combust.
James whistles, and the door opens behind me.
“Put the princess back in her cell,” he says to the two men who enter the room. “And make sure she is not comfortable. She needs some time to reconsider her choice, and to be reminded of my mercy.”
My arms are grabbed, and I am pulled to my feet.
“I have made my choice,” I hiss, the taste of blood strong. “I will never choose you.”
James’s gaze moves back to me. “You have until sundown. At which point, I will either ride with you to a chapel just north of here, or I will ride with you to meet with Sebastian. Don’t be a fool.”
He clicks his fingers in dismissal, turning his gaze to the roaring fire. I struggle against the men to no avail as I’m dragged out into the corridor.
“Blake,” says James. “Make sure she makes the right choice. Do whatever is necessary.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Blake’s voice is smooth and calm amid the chaos.
He bows before following us out of the room.
***
My hands are bound above my head. The metal handcuffs that hang from the ceiling bite into my wrists. I’m forced to balance on my tiptoes and the muscles in my arms are screaming.
I’m shivering violently. The damp air seeps through my shirt, and into my bones. Only my cheek is warm, burning, where James hit me. My shaky breaths plume in front of my face, and I stare longingly at the flaming torch through the bars of my cell.
I do not know how long I’ve been here-alone in the darkness. My stomach growls. It feels like hours since I last ate.
Blake was supposed to make me change my mind, but he did not follow us down into the cell when they strung me up here. That snake has yet to make an appearance. I presume he thinks by leaving me here, in pain and in a place devoid of hope, I will change my mind on my own.
The burst of anger that provokes gives me something tangible to hold on to.
I do not think my story will end happily. Not any longer. But it will end on my own terms. I won’t be forced into this marriage. I will not bed James.
James will take me to the front line to hand me to Sebastian. And when war breaks out, I will run.
I would rather take my chances. I would rather run wild and free with the wind in my hair, and the grass beneath my feet, than spend tonight as the wife of the brother of the male I think I am in love with. Even if it ends in bloodshed.
And I will not go back to Sebastian.
Footsteps echo in the darkness. I jerk my head upright as Blake walks to the cell door. He’s carrying a small flask. His dark clothing is pristine, but his hair is messy like it was the night of the storm. I wonder if he’s stressed for some reason. Perhaps he doesn’t want to torture me on James’s behalf.
“Hello, little rabbit.”
My insides harden. I am trapped, vulnerable. Yet I do not want him to see any weakness from me. I turn my head away from him, careful to keep my balance. “I have made my choice.”
I keep the corner of my eye on him, though. It is unwise to look away from a predator.
He opens the door to my cell and walks inside.
“Are you afraid?” he asks.
“No,” I lie.
He leans back against the barred wall, slipping his arms through the gaps. The air in the cell feels thick, unbreathable. His presence fills the small space, somehow. He tilts his head to the side, the movement almost catlike, as he watches me.
My arms ache. I wobble, off-balance, under his scrutiny.
“Quite the mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” he says.
“You got me into this mess. Not me.”