Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
He chuckles. “So pleased with yourself, little rabbit. Look at me.” His pupils dilate and his irises become threaded with amber. My breath catches. Blake doesn’t let his wolf surface often, and as it peers out from his eyes, it transforms his face. It seems to sharpen his jaw and accentuate his cheekbones. I’m looking at something feral, and beautiful, and deadly. “Give me your hand.
“
This time, I feel him everywhere. His essence floods me-his scent, his heat, a dark unyielding dominance that I had not noticed before. I’ve always known him to be dangerous, but this. . . this power. . . The wolf is in his eyes, bright and beautiful, and I’m ensnared in his gaze. My pulse pounds as I fight the sensation, but all I can think of is my fever dream and the image of a rabbit in the maw of a great wolf.
I’d think he was doing something to me through the bond, but it feels slightly different. As if his command is slipping beneath my skin like a shadow, whispering, promising, coaxing. And when it strokes that feral thing inside me, that feral thing rubs against it.
It would be so easy to agree. So easy to do as he says. I want to please him. I’d do anything for him. He’s my alpha, and I want to-
I grab those shadowy fingers that coil around my soul and shove them away. The Great Hall comes back to me, the crackle of the fire in the stone hearth, and the scent of buttered salmon and red wine. The bagpipe music starts. That feeling dissipates on a breath, and my first instinct is to bare my teeth at him and snarl. My second is to gloat.
I make myself look dazed, and place my hand in his. I want him to think he has power over me, so later, I can use it against him.
Blake’s fingers curl around mine.
Where he touches me, my skin hums. The thread that links us seems to vibrate. I try to hide how my breath catches in my throat, and the way my pulse kicks up. His reaction is almost invisible, but his chest rises then falls, deeper than usual. His expression is too careful, too blank. He’s hiding, like me. He feels it too.
His eyes shift back to normal, though they glint like a cat who has found a mouse to play with. “Isn’t that interesting,” he says and I’m not sure if he’s talking about his ability to use the Àithne on me, or whether he’s talking about how taut and uncomfortable our connection feels.
He holds up my hand, as if claiming his prize, then leads me to the line of Wolves on the dancefloor. We stand at the end, beside Ryan and Becky. Ryan’s grin falters when he sees who I’m about to dance with.
The dance is much like the last, but slower. It requires changes in partners as the females move down the line, but every time I’m to take the hand of another wolf, Blake takes their place. Until, close to the end of the line, he stops the pretense that we’re part of this charade, and pulls me toward him.
The laughter and the clinking of glasses dims as he places a hand on my lower back. I reflexively put my palm on his shoulder, and my fingertips brush hard muscle. He pulls our bodies flush, and my breath dies in my throat. One hand still laced with mine, he spins me around.
He’s manipulating me, I remind myself. He’s going to take everything from me, including Callum. I have to stop him. I have to break this bond.
His movements are strong and graceful as we travel around the dancefloor, and again, I find myself thinking he’s a good dancer. He told me he was born in a village, a half-wolf who later became part of the King’s Guard. There is no reason he would be trained to dance.
“Why are you so good at dancing?” I ask.
“I said I had information about the bond, and that is what you wish to ask me?”
“Yes.”
He dips me, and my breath hitches as I curl my arm around his neck. “Why are you asking?” he asks.
“Because I’m the princess. While the men in the castle were trained to fight, I was trained to dance.”
He pulls me upright, and his breath mingles with mine. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Do you not like to dance?”
“That is not the point.”
“Kingdoms are not won by men fighting.” He twirls me under his arm, and my skirt flutters around my legs. “They are won by men dancing and manipulating others behind closed doors.”
“I’m not a man.”
“No. But I’m sure you could bring a kingdom to its knees.”
“That is your desire, not mine.”
He only smiles. I wonder if it’s a lie, that perhaps something inside me does wish to destroy and claim. To take something away from my father. I’ve felt the embers of something glowing in the pits of my soul since I found out what my father did to my mother.
“You’re avoiding the question,” I say. “How did you learn to dance?”
“Is it so hard to believe that I, too, was trained?” He cocks his head to the side. “Why do you want to know?”
“I can feel your emotions, and I know that you’re hiding something.”
“What of your secrets, little rabbit? I can feel you, too. I’ve sensed something within you, long before our lives were entangled this way.”
My breathing quickens, even though he’s talking nonsense. “Tell me about the bond.”
“Make me.”
My pulse thunders as some wild beast stirs in my chest. He’d implied he’d give me information if I danced with him. I should have known it was a lie. “You claim to be my alpha. That gives me a right to challenge you, doesn’t it? I could do it right here, in front of all these people.”
“Oh, please do, little rabbit.” His voice is as soft and dark as a shadow.
“Do you think I cannot win? You cannot harm me without hurting yourself. You would look like a fool.”
He dips me again, as if to prove he’s in control and I’m floundering off-balance. “I have endured much pain in my life. And I have caused much pain.”
“Do you think I have not?”
His hand shifts on my lower back. His finger brushes the spot where one of my scars brands my skin. I stiffen, and he pulls me upright. “I’m sure you have. But my experience with torture outweighs yours, I’m sure.”
My blood chills as I think of his handwritten medical tomes.
“Go on,” he whispers, his tone urging. “Challenge me. Show me how sharp those claws are.”
The wild thing in my chest rears her head. His eyes glint as if he senses it, welcomes it. I take a deep breath. I know how to win this, and it’s not by giving him what he wants. He wishes to play with me. I won’t indulge him.
I release my grip on his neck and I step back. I curtsey. “Thank you for the dance, Blake.”
He sighs. “You can ask three questions about the bond,” he says. “I’ll answer truthfully. Yes or no.”
I turn around, hiding my smile. I take his hand once more. His scent curls around me as he brings me toward him. We continue our dance around the hall, and I ask him the most important question first. “Do you know how to break it?”
Something unreadable flickers across his face. He looks as if he’s trying to figure out how to answer. Finally, he says, “Yes.”
I overheard him tell Callum he read about the bond in a book. I need to have the same information as him if I’m to find a solution. “The book in which you read about the bond. . . is it here at Lowfell?”
“No,” he says.
Again, I think he’s telling the truth. I’ve been wasting my time in the library. I keep my features blank. “You’ve been living at Madadh-allaidh for a while. That’s where the book is.”
He opens his mouth to answer my question, but I shush him. I want to find out precisely where the tome is, so that when we take the castle, I can find it immediately.
“Your entire plan relies on the bond, so you wouldn’t have left it out in the open.” I search his eyes, and try to read the secrets that glimmer there amid the gold flecks. There was a wall of books beside his bed. “Is the book in your chambers at Madadh-allaidh?”
“Yes.”
The triumph that tickles my lips dies. I don’t have a chance of retrieving it until Callum has overthrown James. What’s more, Blake betrayed James. James could have destroyed Blake’s possessions. Blake’s smile shows me he’s well aware. Despite finding out where I can find some answers, the victory of this game belongs to him.
I’m surprised by the force of the anger that erupts inside me. My throat tightens, and my teeth tingle. I’m fed up of males like Blake thinking they can manipulate me. He thinks he’s the only one who can play a game. I’ve been playing games with obnoxious lords my entire life. I don’t see why Blake should be any different from the rest of them.
“I have another question for you, Blake.” I curl my hand tighter around the back of his neck. I know he can feel the challenge that is coming from me, just as I can feel his intrigue.
“Okay. I’ll play,” he says. “One more.”
I let my guard down entirely. I allow his darkness to flood me as I search for something that can be used against him. He breathes in deeply as if he can sense what I’m doing.
I smell pine, and parchment, and stale air. I hear a dripping well and someone screaming. I catch a glimpse of a dark cell, and the glint of a metal scalpel. I feel his essence-amusement, and danger, and something feral that lurks beneath. He feels like a viper, tightly coiled, that one day will strike.
I catch a whisper of something else, too. It’s hotter. Hungrier. More dangerous. My blood heats as it takes its hold. I remember when I was in chains in the dungeons. His eyes flickered to my lips, just for a moment, and he’d stumbled back in disgust afterward.