Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
He grins. “You can?”
“Yes. And you’re missing the point. Why didn’t you just come and tell me you were leaving?” When he opens his mouth to respond, I give him a sharp look. “And don’t say you didn’t have time.”
He runs a hand over the back of his neck and stares at the foot of the bed.
“I should have gone back to your chambers to say goodbye, I know that. But before, when I was kissing you, tasting you, when I had you beneath me on that bed. . .” My cheeks flush, but he doesn’t seem remotely embarrassed. “I lost control of myself. I felt the wolf-“
“I’m not afraid of you. I’ve told you. The wolf doesn’t scare me.”
“But
Iwas scared. The only time I feel out of control like that is when the moon is full. No one has made me feel that way before. And
Iwas afraid.”
“You’re afraid of losing control with me?”
“Of course I am.”
Something sad blooms inside my chest and my throat thickens. I look away, my jaw tightening. “Oh. Right.”
“That upsets you?” I hear the confusion in his voice.
I shrug and force myself to bite into my bread. “No. I understand.” The bread is dry as it makes its way down my throat. “You need to trade me for the Heart of the Moon. You said you wouldn’t touch me. I’d be worthless to Sebastian if you. . . lost control around me.”
Callum doesn’t respond. All I can hear are the flames crackling in the hearth, the wind outside, and my own angry heartbeat. Carefully, he stacks my plate on top of his and places them both on the bedside table.
He puts his hand gently on my jaw, and turns my head so I’m looking at him.
He looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. Perhaps even a little. . . sad.
“Do you truly think that?” His brow furrows. “Do you truly think I give a shit about Sebastian? That I would give him the slightest bit of consideration when it comes to you and me? Princess, I made a promise not to touch you because it’s the right thing to do. And it’s a promise that gets harder to keep every day, every hour, every second I’m around you. But I must. Because I took you.”
He shakes his head, and his voice thickens. “I took you from your home, and your bed, and your people. I made you my prisoner, Aurora.” His eyes are shining, and he turns his attention to the posts at the end of the bed. “You think there’s always a choice, but there’s not. Not without freedom. You can’t choose me when you’re not really free.”
I’m blindsided. Emotions hurtle around my chest like the winds rattling the windows.
“Callum, you didn’t take me prisoner.”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved, or confused, or amused, or heartbroken. It is overwhelming. And yet, for once, I don’t want to push the emotions away. I want to embrace them. I want to feel.
I shift on the bed, and turn his face toward mine. “I chose to come. And I’m glad that I did. I have never felt more free than when I am with you. And. . . well. . .” I take a deep breath. “There’s another thing.”
His eyebrows knit together. “What is it?”
I chew my bottom lip. “I was planning on giving my father information about the Wolves once you had sent me back. I was going to use it to get out of my marriage with Sebastian.”
Callum stills. At some point during our time together, I let myself forget he is a fierce warrior, though it is obvious now from the tightening of his jaw, and the tension he emits. Was I foolish to admit this to him?
He told me before that he would die to save his people.
“Are you still planning to do that?” he asks.
“I don’t want to marry him, Callum.”
“Aye. I know that. But. . .” He puts his hand on my cheek. “What you’ve just told me. You cannot tell anyone else. If the king finds out. . . Please tell me you understand that?”
“I’m not a fool.”
Something like relief blooms in his eyes. “No. You’re not.” A soft smile plays on his lips, and he shakes his head. “My wee spy.”
The word my stokes something inside me.
“You’re not concerned?” I ask.
“It makes no difference to me.” He shrugs. “You’re not going back to him.”
“And, so you see, I was never really a prisoner to begin with.”
He drops his hand, and sighs. “You might think that, Princess, but I disagree.”
“Oh, for the love of the Goddess, Callum! Will you stop being such a big bloody. . . gentleman!”
He raises his eyebrows, and stills.
His gaze drops down to my body, and the shirt I’m wearing, and something unreadable flickers over his expression. “A spy, not a prisoner, huh?”
When he meets my eyes again, mischief dances amid the darkness.
“I never thought you’d ask me not to be a gentleman, Princess.”
He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, as if considering something. Then he grins. In a sudden movement, he flips me onto my back and climbs on top of me-caging me between his arms. He brings his mouth to my ear, and I shiver as his warm breath touches my skin.
“But I’ll be happy to oblige,” he whispers.
Chapter Forty-Three
My insides tighten.
Callum’s warm breath heats my skin, his lips almost touching my neck.
His shirt has ridden up to my hips, and I can feel the cotton of his breeches against the bare skin of my thighs.
My legs are parted to accommodate him, my core pressed against his hard stomach. When he shifts, my breath catches in my throat as a jolt of need courses through my body.
And the scent of him-Goddess, the scent of him-he smells like heat and male and the mountains.
He groans into my ear, and the sound vibrates through me.
“You don’t know how many ungentlemanly things I’ve thought about doing to you.” His voice is low, and his accent is even thicker than usual.
He brushes his lips against my neck, then shifts so his face hovers above mine. His solid weight presses down on me. His forearms are flat on the pillow on either side of my head.
I should feel trapped, held prisoner by his body. The strength of him, the sheer size of him, should make me feel weak. He is alpha of Highfell, a warrior and a wolf. I should be afraid.
Yet I feel something else entirely.
It is stirred by the quickening of his breathing, and the look in his eyes-there is dark intent there, but a hint of something else too. Awe, perhaps.
That first moment I saw him, standing stern and warrior-like in Sebastian’s fighting ring, I would never in a million years have imagined that one day, we would be in this position. I thought him a monster. A brute. Someone to be feared. Hated, even.
I wonder if that is what is going through his mind too, as he brushes a strand of hair from my face.
“What ungentlemanly things?” I ask.
A slow grin spreads across his face. “Kissing you.”