Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
?”
“Aye. With that lassie he used to court. Claire. Or that’s the rumor, anyway. People say she refused him, so the bond never solidified.”
My pulse is hammering. “How can it be broken?”
She laughs. “Broken? Once accepted, it cannot be broken. Only the Moon Goddess would have the power.” She goes back to her washing. “No. The
Anam-Cridech is eternal. The bond is thought to surpass even death. Why do you want to know. . .?”
I’m already turning on my heel, walking on trembling legs out of the kitchens. I murmur my thanks, I think. My mind, my body, feel as if they’re someplace else. The corridors blurring around me, I make my way to the stairwell.
An eternal bond, shared by two Wolves, created by the Moon Goddess, written about in love tomes-that would be upsetting to Callum. I grasp the banister, and suck in a breath.
You already know.
Nausea rises within. I remember what Callum told me when I first arrived at Madadh-allaidh.
It’s a wolf thing. Rare, but powerful. Stronger, even, than love. Two souls chosen by the Moon Goddess. . .
I know what the bond is.
If I go in one direction, I could confront the alpha who lied and deceived me in the dungeons.
If I go in the other, I could face the alpha who hid the truth he must have suspected for weeks now.
The dangerous, horrible thought has grown vines so thick I can barely breathe. I fight it back with everything I have. I push it down, because I can’t, will not,
allow it to surface.
I’m not a rabbit. I’m not prey. I’m not a problem to be locked away in a tower. I’m not a helpless princess that needs protecting from the truth.
Someone has to pay for this.
Someone will pay for this.
Body trembling, heart thumping, chest heaving, I pick a direction.
Chapter Fifty
Iburst into his chambers.
I barely notice the four-poster bed with the tartan throw, the fire in the hearth, the crescent moon that shines through the window.
Callum is in the copper bathtub. Even through my rage, my breath hitches at the sight of him. Powerful, muscular, yet completely at ease-the firelight dances across his wet skin and turns it bronze. His knees are raised, and his head is leaning against the edge, exposing his throat. His damp hair is the color of wet sand, and brushed back from his forehead in that way that makes him look younger.
He opens his eyes as the door swings shut behind me.
He grips the sides of the tub, and starts to sit. Water cascades down his chest, and I cannot deal with seeing any more of him right now.
“Stay where you are,” I say. He stills as if he senses the growing storm in me. I know he doesn’t fear me-could not fear me-yet wariness tightens his jaw.
“You need to calm down, Princess.”
“You lied to me.”
His expression darkens. “I did not.”
My chest heaves, because that is not the truth and he knows it. There’s a scream inside me, tearing me apart from the inside. My teeth ache, and I want to bite something. My skin hurts with the force of containing it all. My muscles vibrate; my bones shake. If I don’t release it, I will combust.
“Rory. . .” Callum warns.
I storm toward him, grab the slippery soap that sits on the side of the copper tub by his hand, and hurl it at him. Then the washcloth. Water sloshes over the side of the tub as he raises his forearms. Both bounce off him and hit the floorboards.
“Are you done?” he growls.
“No. I’m not done!” I swipe the candlestick off the mantelpiece beside me.
“Don’t you dare-“
I swing it at his head. He grabs the end and yanks it toward him. Instead of releasing it, I stumble, and have to grip the side of the tub to keep my balance.
“Am I going to let you do that?” he says.
My breathing is hard as that wildness in my chest struggles to escape. “No.”
“No,” he agrees. “Drop it.”
“No.”
“Drop it, or I shall make you.” The wolf shines in his eyes.
“You won’t hurt me.” I’m as convinced of this now as I was when I first set eyes on him.
“Still, you cannot come into my chambers in the middle of the night and threaten me. I cannot allow it.” His gaze darkens. “Drop it.”
I try to wrench out of his grip so I can aim it at his face again. He lets go and I stumble. He hooks one arm around my waist and grabs my wrist with his other hand. There’s a sloshing noise as I crash down on top of him, scuffing my knees against the sides of the tub.
Water spills everywhere. It careens over the sides of the bath, sloshes over the floorboards, and drenches the sheepskin rug. I release my hold on the candlestick, and it clatters to the floor and rolls beneath the bed. I gasp with shock as I’m drenched, and my core is pressed against his hard torso. He grabs my waist and holds me still. My legs are wedged between his thighs and the side of the bath.
“This is not the way we settle things,” he says.
I suck in a deep breath, the room blurring around me. I taste mountains and soap and the familiar scent of woodsmoke. It’s like ash in my mouth. “Do not tell me how I settle things, Callum McKennan.” I grip his shoulders to push myself upward, and steady myself. My hair is draped against his chest. “You’re a liar.”
“I have not lied to you.”
“You know the nature of the bond. Don’t pretend otherwise!”
“Aye. I know.”
A growl builds inside me. “You made a mockery of me.”
“You believe you have been made a mockery of?”
He doesn’t look like the Callum I know right now. There is nothing gentle or kind in his expression. Despite the intimacy of our position, he looks at me as if I’m a foe he’s facing on the battlefield.
I can barely contain my rage. It rises up my throat and I want to scream. “You hid the truth.”
“Because I did not want it to be true!”
“You had no right!” My body is tense against his, my chest heaving like I’m drowning. “How long have you known the nature of the bond?” His throat is bobbing. “How long?
“
“I suspected on the night James bit you.”
The fire inside me blazes and roars. “That long?”