Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
Goddess.
“Blake, can you walk?” His skin is pale and clammy. Black curls stick to his forehead. “Goddess, never mind.”
I hurl his arm over my shoulder, and wrap my other arm around his hips, careful not to touch his bare skin with my wolfsbane-dowsed hands. I drag him toward the doors. We make slow progress. He slumps into me, a dead weight. He smells like blood and poison
“Horse. . . outside. . .”
he rasps.
“Okay. Come on.”
He’s heavy, and I’m once again reminded that he’s packed with muscle beneath his clothes. He’s cold, too cold for a wolf. His shirt is sopping wet and I try not to think about whether it’s with sweat or blood. Behind us, Alexander pushes one of his own men aside. He blocks Kenneth’s blow and shoves the red-haired alpha aside.
“Where are you going, love?” Alexander’s gruff voice follows me. “Don’t you want to play?”
We reach the doors, and I drag Blake down a dark corridor. Blood runs down his fingers and drips onto the tiles. It leaves a trail behind us.
“Left,”
he mumbles, when we reach the end.
Footsteps echo behind me, and I know Alexander is coming. Callum roars, in pain or in victory, I don’t know. I have to keep going. We pass what looks like a parlor, then a kitchen. I push open the door at the end of the corridor, and the night enters the house on a gust of wind. The scent of wild grass and the mountains floods my nose, and light drizzle sprays my skin. We stumble onto an overgrown path.
“I promised I’d come back for you, love, didn’t I?” Alexander shouts.
There are three horses ahead, tethered to the trees a short walk away. I grit my teeth. Every bone in my body aches; every muscle is tight. Blake groans and alleviates some of his weight as we head onward. The mountains are dark ahead.
When we reach the copse of trees, Blake lets go of me and staggers toward a black mare. “You first,” he rasps.
I mount, and he hauls himself onto the saddle behind me-I help pull him up. He hisses when my bare hands touch his wrists, but makes no complaint as he pushes himself upright, clenches his thighs around mine, and hooks his good arm around my waist. I grip the reins.
Twigs and stones crunch beneath Alexander’s steady footsteps. He’s whistling, slightly off-key. The tune is familiar, and it instils fear within me, even stronger than my fear of him catching me.
“Go!
“
Blake’s breath tickles my ear.
I hold onto the reins and dig in my heels. The horse takes off through the trees. Her earthy scent floods my nostrils, along with the smells of forests and rain and Blake’s dark poison. The wind brushes my hair back out of my face, and exhilaration twists with my fear. It’s been so long since I rode a horse, so long since my mother and I would gallop through the countryside, yet it comes back to me like an instinct.
Freedom,
my heartbeat urges.
Freedom.
Hooves thunder against the ground behind us, and a low, rough laugh fills my ears. “You can’t escape me, love.”
Panic rises inside me. The lights from the manor fade, and the darkness creeps in. I don’t know where I’m going. Blake’s breathing rattles against my neck. He won’t last long without his wounds being tended to.
He murmurs instructions to me, and I navigate the moonlit terrain as best I can while his chest rises and falls unsteadily against my back. My thighs ache as I clench the saddle. Blake slips behind me, and he grabs my side, his fingers digging into me.
“There. Ahead.” His chin scrapes against my shoulder as he nods. “He won’t follow us there.”
A chapel comes into view on the slope of a mountain. There’s an iron fence around it, and weathered headstones jut out of the wet earth in front. I push us on through the open gates. The steel has been shaped into crescent moons and stars. I bring my horse to a halt among the graves. There’s nowhere else to go.
A rough laugh fills the air. My heart pounding, I raise my chin and turn the horse.
“Hello, Alexander,” I say.
Alexander pulls on the reins of his horse and halts on the other side of the gate. “I’ve imagined our reunion so many times. The reality is even better.” He holds out a hand, and I catch a glimpse of ink on his wrist as his dark sleeve rides up. “Come with me, love. I’ll take you home.”
I shake my head. “This is my home now, and if you think you can use me to get my father to pardon you, you’re mistaken.”
Alexander tips back his head and laughs. “Your father? Do you think I want the favor of that old fool? No. My plans for you are much sweeter, love. Come to me. I will give you glory.”
“Why don’t you come and get her, Alex?” Blake’s voice is smooth, but he grips my waist tightly beneath my cloak, like he’s afraid he’s going to fall.
Alexander’s grin widens. “Well, if it isn’t the king’s favorite pup. I missed you, Blake. I missed the sound of your screams. I dream of them, sometimes. Do you dream of me?”
My eyebrows lift. They know one another?
“Sometimes,” says Blake.
Alexander gestures his head at me. “We can share her, if you like.”
Blake laughs.
“No?” Alexander runs his hand over his shaved dark hair, then shrugs. “Fine. Another time. Bring her to the Grey Keep, if you want to have some fun. I’ve got one of our old friends there that I’d like her to meet. Before she fulfils her purpose, of course.” He turns his horse and looks over his shoulder at me. “I’ll be seeing you again very soon, love. In the meantime, I’m sending someone to visit you at Madadh-allaidh. I’ve grown very close to him over the past weeks. Make him feel welcome, won’t you?”
He rides away.
Blake slumps against me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I
‘ve got one of our old friends there that I’d like her to meet. Before she fulfils her purpose, of course.
I shiver. The trees in the churchyard sway in the wind. The graves around us jut from the earth like crooked teeth. It feels as if we are miles from anywhere. Blake grunts behind me. My mind reels with questions about Alexander and his link to Blake. I have to help him first.
Do as he says.
I push away the memories of Callum’s command.
“Are you conscious?” I whisper.
“Mm,” he mumbles.
His arm is like a block of ice against my torso. If I can’t heal him, we’re both going to die. I steady my racing heart. “I assume you have the antidote in your pack?”
He grunts, which I take for a yes.
“Okay.” I lead the horse toward the chapel, and stop by the arched door. There are more stars and crescent moons carved into the stone around it. This is one of Night’s chapels.
Blake’s arm is heavy as I move it to his side. He slumps as I slide onto the path. My knees buckle, and I put my hand on the side of the horse to right myself. My shoulder brushes Blake’s leg. I take a deep breath.
“Come on,” I say.
I hold out my hand, but he manages to slide down without my assistance. Dry leaves crunch beneath his boots as he lands.
“Fuck. I feel like shit.” He knocks into my shoulder as he stumbles. He puts a palm on the chapel wall and bends forward. Dark strands of hair cling to his forehead, and his skin is as pale as moonlight.
I hurry to the saddle, and root around in his pack. I pull out the black case I’ve seen him use to heal people. I turn back to him. He leans against the chapel wall with a hand clamped over his shoulder. His head is arched back against the stone, exposing his throat. Blood spills between his fingers and pools on the flagstones at his feet. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable before.