Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
“Bollocks!” mimics Alfie.
My eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t eat the things now, can we?” Elsie grabs the huge basket, nudging a set of claws that pokes over the edge, and stomps toward the door. “Come on.”
“Where are you going?”
“To free the lobsters!”
“What!”
“We’ll take them to the loch. Come on!”
A soft laugh escapes me as Alfie squeals with joy and hurries after her. “Free the lobsters!” he cries.
“We can’t do that,” I say.
“Course we can.”
“What will we have for dinner?”
She pulls a face, then glances at the muddy potatoes scattered across the table. “Potatoes? I don’t know. We’ll figure something out. Come on. Hurry. Before the men find out!”
With Alfie at her heels, she bustles out of the door. Unable to hide my grin, I hurry after her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“E
lsie, darling, what happened to the lobster I paid for?” Blake sits at one head of the alpha table and studies the mushed potato gloop that coats his spoon. His dark shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and the candles that flicker in the center of the table cast light onto his sharp jaw.
The fire roars in the curved stone hearth at the back of the room, but does little to dispel the shadows. Arran, Jack, and Ryan sit along one side of the table, while Elsie, Alfie, and I sit on the other. Lochlan’s clan have their own way of celebrating the night before the full moon, and have traveled to Dawn’s Craig to meet with the priestess.
Callum sits at the other head of the table, and smirks at his bowl.
Elsie raises her chin. “They escaped.”
Blake cocks his head to one side, as if trying to make sense of this. “What do you mean, they escaped?”
“I don’t know!” she says. “They’re gone! They got free!”
“How? Where, exactly, did they go?” Blake says. “Are they still here? Am I to find lobsters wandering around my castle?”
Callum turns his laugh into a cough, and Elsie shoots him a dark look. Alfie giggles.
Blake turns to the young boy. “Do you know the whereabouts of the lobsters, Alfie?”
“Swimming!” he says.
“Swimming?” He arches an eyebrow at Elsie. “And so the plot thickens.”
“They’re in the loch, okay?” She raises her hands. “What do you want me to say?”
There’s a creak as Jack leans back in his chair, while the corner of Arran’s lip pulls up.
A dimple punctures Blake’s cheek now. “Why, may I ask, are they in the loch?”
Elsie points at me, almost knocking over her goblet of wine. “It was her fault!” There’s a glint of humor in her eyes.
I put my hand on my chest. “It was your idea!”
“Only because you told me that sad bloody story about the lobster,” says Elsie. “About how it didn’t even know the water was boiling until it was too late.”
I feel the weight of Callum’s gaze on my heating cheeks. His expression softens. Some of the humor disappears from Blake’s eyes.
“Well, it looks lovely,” says Callum as he dips his spoon into the bowl. “What is it?”
“Tattie soup.” Elsie juts out her chin. “What else?”
Callum takes a mouthful. “Mm. Delicious.” He can barely contain his stupid grin, and the corner of Blake’s mouth lifts when he struggles to swallow. “You can really taste the earth.”
It’s Blake’s turn to conceal his laugh by pretending he’s clearing his throat, while I slap Callum’s arm. “I didn’t see any of you gentlemen offering to cook,” I say.
“I’m serious,” says Callum, looking anything but. “I like it. It’s got the gritty crunch I always enjoy with my tatties.”
“Oh, piss off!” snorts Elsie. “One of you can cook next time.”
“I do a good barbecued lobster,” says Jack, a faraway look in his eyes. “Smoky sweet meat, cooked on open flames. Delicious.”
“But then we would have been robbed of this treat,” says Callum, and Jack grins.
“Lobsters mate for life, you know?” Ryan mumbles suddenly, hunched over his bowl.
All the humor drains from the hall. Elsie stiffens, while Arran looks down at the table. Callum frowns. Jack clears his throat. Blake stills, and I feel that shred of him inside me hardening, as if to stop me from feeling his emotion.
“Like Wolves,” chirps Alfie.
It takes me a moment to figure out the strange tension, but then I recall what Callum told me once, about Wolves having mates that were chosen by the Moon Goddess. He said it was a connection more powerful than love. Didn’t Elsie say
Ghealach had other plans for Arran, that he had feelings for another? Was she talking about him having a mate?
“Aye,” says Arran softly. “That’s right, lad.”
The air is too awkward. I want to say something to put people at ease, but words evade me.
“You’re a ray of sunshine tonight, Ryan,” says Blake, and everyone seems to release a breath.
“Becky finished with him,” says Callum.
“Oi! That’s private!” snarls Ryan, cheeks reddening.
Callum arches an eyebrow. “Would it hurt you to offer me, your alpha, a bit of respect every once in a while?”
“I would if you wouldn’t go around proclaiming my private business!”
I touch Callum’s wrist and squeeze, hoping he won’t torture the boy any further.
He rolls his eyes at me-the boyish gesture at odds with his big physique.
“Ah, young love.” Jack grins as he slings his arm over the back of his chair, provoking another snarl from Ryan. “Come out with me tomorrow. We’ll do some training to keep your mind off things.”
“I’m better than you, anyway,” says Ryan.
“Fighting talk, indeed,” says Jack. “I suppose we’ll see about that. You are good with a sword, though.” Ryan sits a little straighter, chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Callum teach you?”
“Aye,” says Ryan.