Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
Halfway across the grassy expanse, he halts.
Callum sniffs the air, then jumps to his feet.
The two of them turn their heads toward the hill on the other side of the castle.
“What is it?” I ask, alarmed, as I get up.
“Horses. Fergus. Magnus. And. . . and Ryan.” Callum’s body is rigid, his breathing hard. “They’re coming. I can smell them. And blood. I smell blood. Lots of blood.” He swallows, and his face whitens. “Ryan’s blood.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Something seems to pass between the two males.
Blake inclines his head. He walks back toward the castle, the breeze ruffling his dark hair.
In the distance, I hear shouting and the thunder of hooves.
“If Magnus tells anyone who she is, I’ll kill you.” Callum is breathing hard, his teeth gritted and his jawline tense.
Even a hundred feet away, Blake hears him, looks over his shoulder, and arches an eyebrow. He says something I can’t hear, and a low growl vibrates in Callum’s chest.
“Don’t you think I know that?” he says. “Just get on with it and be quick.”
Blake’s lips curve, but he walks a little faster and disappears around the castle walls.
Callum is breathing fast. “Stay close to me.”
We hurry across the grass, Callum taking care to keep stride with me. When a cry of pain rattles through the air, he breaks into a run. I chase after him.
I stumble into chaos when I reach the courtyard, and I lose sight of him.
The air is loud with raised voices, and Wolves are gathering. It feels like the hours before a storm-when the air is thick and static-and something is about to break.
A voice to my left shouts something derogatory about my father, another promises to take something from Sebastian and kill it slowly. Another yells that all Southerners will die.
The skin on my arms turns to gooseflesh. The crowd has swallowed me, my shoulders are knocked by big muscular arms, and I catch flashes of weapons and clan colors and eyes filled with hate. I need to find Callum. If these Wolves realize I’m the king’s daughter, I’ll be torn apart.
I don’t think a collar will save me now.
I’m not sure even Callum can. A part of me wonders if he will even notice if they descend upon me. Someone from his clan has been injured. He is distracted. He has more important things to be worrying about than me.
I push toward the center of the crowd and the metallic scent of blood hits me in a wave. My stomach turns. Crimson paints the cobbled stones ahead.
Callum stands deathly still in the eye of the storm.
He says something to Fergus and Becky, the young kitchen maid rescued from Sebastian’s castle. He grabs the pale body slung over one of one of two horses, and holds it over his shoulder. Becky lets out a cry that’s audible, even over all the noise. Her face is streaked with tears and blood.
My heart stills. Ryan.
He is barely breathing. His eyes are closed, and there’s a purple mark across his cheek where he’s been struck. His shirt is drenched with blood and his copper hair is slick with sweat.
I hurry closer, causing a male in a blue kilt closest to the horses to curse at me.
“Watch where you’re going, lass. You-” His nostrils flare, then his features harden. “Human. Hey!” He looks around him. “There’s a southern bitch ”
Callum turns around, and time seems to stop.
A low growl reverberates from his chest, vibrating at such a frequency it rumbles around the courtyard. He has growled a few times in my presence, but this time, it is pure animal.
It reminds me of what he is. A wolf. A killer.
An alpha.
A hush falls over the courtyard.
Eyes flick toward the source of Callum’s displeasure, and the wolf in the blue kilt steps back. The mob looks at me.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise as a whisper passes from mouth to mouth.
Human.
I want to run, to hide, but I can’t. I’m surrounded.
A gust of wind sweeps my hair out of my face, exposing my neck.
And the collar.
Another current of emotion passes through the crowd. Someone growls. A female spits on the floor.
“She’s mine,” says Callum.
My mouth dries at the power he commands.
His gaze seeks mine, and I raise my chin. He nods, and I nod in return.
Then time speeds up again. With Ryan over his shoulder, Callum strides toward the castle doors.
“Fergus, go get the healer.” Callum says the word healer as though it tastes bad. “Isla, look after the lass-“
“I’m going with you,” growls Becky.
Isla darts forward, but Callum meets Becky’s determined gaze, sighs, then inclines his head.
“Rory,” says Callum. “This way.”
Isla’s eyes turn to ice when they drop to the collar around my neck. Her lips pinch together.
Callum doesn’t need to tell me twice. Even if I wasn’t surrounded by Wolves who wanted to kill me, I would follow.
Not because of Callum’s stupid collar. Because of the body in his arms-dripping with blood.
I am connected to that boy.
I spared his life, in the dog-fighting ring. I tended to his wounded arm in the kennels. He put me on this path that led to the Kingdom of Wolves. And it was surely my people, looking for me, that did this to him.
He cannot meet his end this way.
“Slut,”
Isla mutters as I pass.
I bite back a retort, not wanting to add fuel to an already inflammatory situation.
I feel the eyes of the surrounding Wolves burning into my back as I hurry through the castle entrance. The big oak doors swing shut behind me.
***