Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
“Do I need a reason?” I fold my arms. “I hate you.” I don’t want him to know about my discovery. His whole plan relies on Callum not wanting to hurt him in case he hurts me, too. He must feel my flicker of triumph, though, because he laughs.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You didn’t feel my pain because I decided you wouldn’t.” My shin stops throbbing, and my wrist feels as if it has been dowsed in cold water. “See? But I can bring it back. So don’t get any ideas.”
“Why did you stop me from feeling it?”
He shrugs. “To see if I could.”
“How?”
“I caged my pain.” He stares at my hand and I feel a pulse of his curiosity. “The more pertinent question is why doesn’t wolfsbane burn you? It gave me a rash even before I was bitten.”
“I was dosed with it throughout my childhood. Perhaps I’m immune.”
“I dose myself with it too, and yet I cannot counter the effects entirely.” He shows me his wrist-the skin is red and bumpy, as though he’s been stung by a nettle. “Perhaps if you’ll allow me to run some experiments on you-“
He grabs my wrist, and I stagger back. “Absolutely not!” Even if I’d not seen his ghastly books, filled with the horrible things he did to Wolves to sate his curiosity, I would not do anything to appease him. “Stay away from me.”
I try to pull away, but his fingers tighten. The amusement in his eyes disappears, and that dark thread pulses around my soul. I follow his gaze to my fingers. My cheeks flush. My fingernails are torn, and there are bloody tracts down the sides where I’ve ripped off skin with my teeth. It’s a habit I didn’t used to have, I’ve just been feeling anxious, lately.
“Let me go!” I jerk my hand from his grip.
His expression becomes nonchalant once more. I could almost believe I imagined his reaction. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you scared?”
I tilt my chin up. “Of you? No.” I probably should be-considering who he is and all he has done.
His gaze dips to my pocket, where the vial of wolfsbane is cool against my thigh through the fabric. “I’d keep that on you at the feast tonight. I don’t like the way some of Lochlan’s clan are looking at you.”
That’s why I got it in the first place, you patronizing snake,
I want to snap at him.
Heart thumping, I turn my back on him and head up the stairs.
Some of my tension unwinds when Callum rounds the corner at the other end of the corridor. “I was looking for you. . .” His eyes darken when Blake emerges. They haven’t spoken since Blake bit me. Both men halt, Blake only a few feet behind me, his body heat warming my back. “Blake.” Callum’s voice is low and guttural, almost a growl.
Blake’s expression is unreadable. “Callum.”
Callum’s features are like stone. “I know you’ve never had a father to teach you such things, but biting a woman without her consent is not how a real man behaves.”
Blake goes completely still. His handle on his caged feelings flickers, and my vision temporarily darkens as his emotions flood me. He’s upset. Callum’s blow has landed. I remember what he told me once, about how his father forced himself onto his mother.
“No?” Blake says, his voice like shadow. “Speaking of biting, have you seen your little pet’s fingernails, lately?”
It’s Callum’s turn to still. A muscle flexes in his jaw as his gaze snaps to my hand. Heat floods my face as I curl my fingers into a fist. Callum’s throat bobs. I don’t know why, but Blake’s jab seems to have hit Callum just as hard.
Blake strides past me, then Callum. He turns. “If you want to keep a pet in my castle, Callum, look after it.”
He disappears around the corner.
Callum takes a deep breath, then crosses the space between us. He takes my hand, gaze taking in the torn skin around my cuticles. I try to pull away, but he laces his fingers with mine and tugs me toward the end of the corridor.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“Come on,” he says softly. He leads me back to our bedchambers.
When he has shut the door, Callum runs a hand over his mouth, then sighs. “There are a few things I need to tell you about Wolves.”
Chapter Sixteen
“W
olves have something of an oral fixation.” Callum’s voice is as rough as sand.
“They. . . what?”
The fire has just been tended to. It casts its glow onto the side of Callum’s face and turns his skin bronze.
“It’s bad when we’re pups, worse when we’re adolescents. When we’re adults, it becomes more of a sex thing.” My cheeks flame, and Callum brushes his knuckles against one of them. He brings his lips to my ear, and his warm breath caresses my skin. “Wolves like to bite.”
The hotness in my face spreads and surges lower. I don’t know why such a thought would cause this reaction within me. He takes my hands in his.
“When you had a fever, Blake told me that before the first few shifts, the changes that happen to a half-wolf are akin to what full Wolves go through during adolescence.” His expression becomes somber. “Your fingernails. . . You’ve been biting yourself. . . I should have taken care of you. I should have offered you a vice for that particular fixation. I’m sorry, Princess. I forgot what it was like.”
My forehead furrows as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. “I. . . Callum. . . I don’t want to bite you!”
“No?” Outside, the wind rattles the window and its soft haunting song drifts through the mountains. “I think you do, Princess.” He runs the pad of his thumb over my lips. Gently, he forces entry, and the taste of salt and heat floods my mouth as he pushes down on my tongue.
An ache bursts between my legs, and something coils so tightly inside me that I think I may erupt. A whimper escapes me, muffled, as something wild within me urges softly.
Bite.
The wolf shines in Callum’s eyes as he watches me, and the strange reaction I’m having to him that I’m trying to suppress. He steps closer, and slides his thumb further back. I should push him away. I should pull back. I should not be fighting the urge to sink my teeth into him with every ounce of my willpower.
My breathing quickens. Sweat beads upon my brow. Heat pools between my thighs, and Callum’s nostrils flare.
“No? Very well.” He huffs a soft growl, and pulls his thumb away. “I have not been as attentive as I should have been.” His voice is hoarse. “It’s a primal act. I worry I’ll lose control of myself. The fever. . .” He shakes his head. “It troubles me. But if you need me, come to me.” He takes my chin between his thumb and finger. “No more biting yourself, okay?”
***
When evening approaches, rain drums against the castle walls. The torches flicker, as Callum and I make our way to the feast. I’m wearing my new dress. It’s long-sleeved and blue, and I catch Callum trying not to stare at the low neckline
Noise hits us as we reach the doors to the Great Hall-raucous voices, the clatter of crockery, and music. We pause beside a man who plays the bagpipes, and I’m almost deafened.
The space is packed. I can’t even see the alpha table at the back. Blake must have invited people from the village, because many wear Lowfell’s black and grey tartan. I think there are more people from Glas-Cladach, too, who must have traveled for the festivities. Their kilts and dresses are wet from the rain, and the air is hot and damp.
“Ready?” asks Callum, threading his fingers with mine.
I nod. My shoulders bump against people’s arms, as we weave through the crowd. Callum greets Wolves, his voice loud and warm. A shriek makes us both stiffen, and we both laugh when we realize the source of the sound was the small boy, Alfie-a disgruntled-looking Arran confiscates a goblet of wine from him. Elsie, beside him, takes it off him quickly, then catches my eye and grins.
“Looking superb, tonight, Aurora,” says Lochlan as we reach the alpha table. He leans back in his chair, and the collar of his shirt shifts. Candlelight flickers over the edge of a tattoo on his collarbone.
I return his smile. “Thank you.”
Blake is on Lochlan’s other side, talking to Jack, but his gaze flicks up. Callum’s hand tightens around mine. We take our seats beside Lochlan.
The tension between Blake and Callum is palpable. Neither of them acknowledges the other, yet Callum’s biceps bulge against his sleeves, and Blake’s fingers flex by his butter knife.
Both relax as food is brought out-large platters filled with salmon that must have been caught from the loch, steamed potatoes, and green vegetables. Goblets are filled with rich red wine. Lochlan makes small talk about his clan. The air is alive with music, laughter, and the loud unruly conversation I’ve become accustomed to in the Northlands. Everyone is in high spirits.
“So, Lochlan.” Callum puts down his fork. Blake turns his head in our direction, his goblet of wine halfway to his lips. “Are we finally going speak about the reason you came here? I’m presuming you want something in return for supporting me when I challenge James for the throne?”
A slow smile spreads across Lochlan’s face. “I have three conditions for my support.”
Callum leans back in his chair. “Okay.”
“I want Fort Dubh-Clach, the territory Sebastian took when he was looking for Aurora. It was mine before Kai, my beta, rose against me and claimed it as his. I doubt he’s alive now.” His kohl-lined eyes glimmer in the candlelight, and he smiles. “If any of his clan survived, they will pledge themselves to me. They were mine, once. The transfer will be peaceful.”