Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
Blake’s shirt clings to his chest and torso beneath his open coat. A few errant strands of his hair stick to his forehead. “I always feel better after it’s happened. Lighter.”
“Is it the act of shifting you don’t like? Or being a wolf?”
“Both. I cannot control it. I like to be in control.”
“I noticed,” I say. I catch a hint of one of his dimples. “Callum doesn’t think I’m a wolf.”
“What do you think?”
He’s the last person I want to come to for help. Yet. . . “Am I a wolf?”
He drags his teeth over his bottom lip as he looks out on the mountains. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? You let Callum-and me-believe otherwise.”
He shrugs. “Callum wasn’t too pleased with me this morning. As for you, I’m letting you know now, aren’t I?”
I sigh, and my breath mists in front of my face. “How do you know for sure I’m a wolf?”
“I wouldn’t have been able to share my life force with you if you were human.” He turns to face me. Rain runs down his cheeks and moistens his lips. “I saw you, the night when I shared my life force with you. I caught glimpses of your dreams, your memories, your thoughts. Was it not the same for you?”
I think of the fevered images and sounds that filled my being-screams, and scalpels, and darkness. “Yes.”
A pensive look crosses his face. “I found you. I saw your wolf form. She’s the color of moonlight.”
Something tightens inside me. I feel stripped bare, as if Blake has seen things of me that no one else has. It’s not right. A part of me wants to get away from him, to run back to the castle and find Callum. My legs won’t move. Even when he slips his hands into his coat pockets and turns back to the loch.
I think of all the experiments Blake has done on other Wolves. “Have you ever known a wolf to not shift on the night of the full moon?”
“No. Never.”
“Why didn’t I shift?”
His curiosity pulses inside me. “That’s the question, isn’t it, little rabbit?”
We both look out onto the mountains. The shadows hide their peaks.
“We have another problem,” he says.
“What?”
“My source from Madadh-allaidh has delivered some bad news.”
My pulse quickens. “Is Fiona alright?”
“As far as I know. It’s Claire. Apparently she got herself captured by Alexander’s men on her way to Madadh-allaidh.” His jaw tightens. “Claire is James’s. . . Claire is important to James. He’ll want to get you quickly, so he can trade you for her.”
I nod. “We should be ready by tomorrow, shouldn’t we? After the ambush?”
“We’ll have an army, if all goes well. Still, the thought that James might be panicking makes me uneasy. I think he’d do anything to get Claire back. He might make his own move against us.” He runs a hand along his jaw. “It really is strange you didn’t shift. Perhaps if you’ll let me run some tests-“
I step back, and almost slip in the mud. I’m not as adverse to the idea as the last time he suggested it, but I can’t forget that he’s plotting against us.
A dimple punctures his cheek. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you, little rabbit?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
He shrugs, and turns his gaze back to the mountains to indicate the end of our conversation. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
***
Morning mist shrouds the loch when Callum rides south with a small party of men, the next morning, to ambush Alexander and his men. I wanted to come along, but Callum was as alarmed about Claire being kidnapped as Blake. The two alphas think James might be waiting for me to leave Lowfell.
I watch them from the arched window in the stairwell outside the library, a cloak wrapped tightly around me to ward off the chill. The horses’ hooves thunder against the wild terrain, and I can just about make out the yellow of Lochlan’s kilt, and Jack’s dark clothing, before they disappear into the mountains. I rub my hands together to bring some heat into them, then retreat into the library.
As the morning passes, the weather changes. The sky becomes heavy with grey clouds, and the air feels thick and muggy. Static energy prickles against my skin, and a ball of restlessness coils inside me, mingling with a twinge of anxiety. I think a storm is coming.
Sitting in the window seat, I pore through various texts, my vision blurring, my concentration waning.
I know Callum can look after himself, but I’m worried. Alexander is a fearsome foe, and I know now what my people do to Wolves. I recall the fur coat that hung in my wardrobe in the Borderlands, made from a wolf on the night of a full moon.
“Read anything interesting lately, little rabbit?” Blake leans against the doorframe.
I flick the page, and go back to the account I’m reading of an alpha in the Snowlands named the Shadow Wolf. It seems he was devoted to Night, and he was looking for the Heart of the Moon to free him from his prison. “Do you know, I think there may be a storm coming, Blake?”
He wanders over, and his boots thud against the floorboards. His shadow looms over me as he leans against the stone wall near the window seat by my feet. His scent of ink and night-soaked forests washes over me.
“I think you may be right,” he says.
“Do the Wolves in your clan know you’re a big baby who is afraid of thunder?”
“Obviously not.”
I flick another page. “Let us hope they do not find out.”
A dimple punctures his cheek. “Indeed.”
There’s a rustle as Blake picks up the book atop the pile by my feet. “This one is no good.” He places it on the shelf beside him, and rifles through the rest. “Nor this one. This one is dull. And this one-if you wish for a more comprehensive guide to the Battle of Shadow and Snow, Erikson’s is better.” I grit my teeth as his pile of discarded books grows. “Ah, but this one. . . this one is interesting.”
I make the mistake of glancing up. He’s opening the book that Elsie gave me.
The Alpha’s Secret.
An embarrassing sound scrapes against my throat as I lurch forward and snatch it from his hands. “Give me that!” I adjust myself on the window seat’s cushion.
“I can have a word with Callum, if you like, little rabbit. Give him some tips, if he is not performing to your satisfaction.”
I fight the flush in my cheeks. “Have you nothing better to do than attempt to vex me?”
“Attempt? I don’t attempt anything. I always achieve my goals.”
“Fine. Well done. You have succeeded at being the singularly most irritating male I’ve ever encountered. Go and congratulate yourself elsewhere.”
“It’s my castle. You’re welcome to leave, if my presence bothers you so much.”
I roll my eyes, and go back to my book about the Snowlands. “I have a theory about the bond, by the way.”
“You do? I’m all ears, little rabbit.”
I smile, because I sense him putting his guard up. He’s caging his emotions so I won’t feel them. I slide my feet from the cushion on the window seat, and turn so I’m facing him. I study his features-his light-brown eyes, framed by dark lashes, his chiseled jaw, his hand resting on the bookshelf. I want to be able to detect any change in his demeanor.
He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of my thighs, his fingers sinking into the cushion. His face is close to mine, and his eyes gleam, like he knows what I’m trying to do and he’s showing me how unconcerned he is. Arrogant bastard.
I inch closer, so our breath mingles. “I think the Heart of the Moon can break it,” I say.
His lips part, and he gasps softly. Triumph swells inside me, until I realize he’s making fun of me. A frustrated noise scrapes my throat, and I jerk up my knee so I can hit him in the crotch.