Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
And I’ll love. I’ll love wholly and unreservedly. I’ll love until I am bursting with it.
My breathing slows. The night swims around me, dark and full of shadow. My soul aches. My eyelids close. Someone is shouting. Someone is whispering.
Everything is cold.
And then, silence.
I’m back in that forest, in the cavernous dark.
The branches don’t whisper, and the undergrowth is still. There is nothing but thick unrelenting darkness.
And I don’t want this.
I want to live.
A wisp of light flits toward me.
I frown as I reach for it.
My eyes jolt open at the same time as Blake’s. His lips part, and he exhales.
“Yes.” The muscles in his forearm clench. “That’s it. Take it.”
I grab onto it, whatever it is, and I feel. . .
life.
It is dark, and smoky, and warm. I pull it toward me, and Blake slips. A low sound scrapes against his throat as he prevents himself from crushing me.
“That’s it.” He swallows. “Take it.”
The scent of the night fills my lungs. I smell dark forests, and musty parchment, and flickering candlelight.
I breathe it in. I pull it closer. Blake’s arm shudders, and his fist curls into the earth.
The sound of dripping water echoes in my ears. I taste mildew on the back of my tongue. Thunder rumbles, or perhaps it is the sound building in Blake’s chest.
I need it. I want it.
My fingers sink into the wet earth, and I pull harder.
My back arches as the wind builds around us.
I see a glint of silver. A surgical knife. I see shackles, and chains and blood. There is so much blood. Someone, somewhere is screaming. Is it me? Is it someone else?
I don’t care. I just want more.
Images flicker before me. There’s a woman shouting. A rabbit runs across a dark room. There’s the cracking of a whip. The taste of lightning. A thousand stars light an endless sky.
I smell poison, blood, and darkness.
“Fuck, Aurora.” Blake is breathing hard, and his eyes are bright.
And I’m walking through a forest.
Or perhaps I am in the church in the King’s City. Only, branches have burst through the stained-glass windows. Vines curl around the stone columns, and weeds break the mosaiced floor. It is dark, as if someone has blocked out the sun.
A low growl rumbles through the space and shakes the altar. It is coming from the dark mouth of the crypt, where shadows trickle out like smoke.
My footsteps echo as I walk toward it.
Eyes glint in the darkness.
There is something down there, and it snarls.
“There you are,” whispers Blake.
My gaze latches onto his. The sky is vast behind him. The wind ruffles his hair.
More.
Blake hisses through his teeth, and his body shudders. I feel him trying to retreat, and I hook my arm around his neck and pull him down. He makes a low sound in his throat, his muscles tensing beneath my fingers.
“That’s enough.” Callum’s panicked voice sounds far away.
Blake presses his forehead against mine. The wolf is in his eyes.
“That’s enough!”
Blake is ripped away from me. I exhale, and my breath twists into the Northlands sky. I am soft. Weightless. I tip my head back into the grass. I feel weak, but whole. Blood no longer pumps out of my body. The pain has faded. I touch my side with a heavy hand, and it’s sore but there is no wound.
Callum’s face crashes into focus.
“Callum?” I whisper.
“I’m here.” He smiles softly, and a tear rolls down his muddy cheek. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
He scoops me into his arms, and holds me against his chest. I sigh again, his warmth cocooning me.
I’m going to be okay.
“My castle’s a few miles from here.” Blake’s voice sounds odd. He clears his throat. “We’ll go there.”
Callum looks over my shoulder, and nods. His gaze drops, and his expression darkens. “Get a hold of yourself.”
Blake’s expression hardens.
“Fuck off, Callum.” He stalks across the shadowy landscape. “You’ve got no fucking idea. . .” His voice is swallowed by the wind.
Callum exhales, then pulls me closer.
“Let’s get you somewhere warm,” he says, before heading after Blake. “You’re safe now.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
I
‘m warm. Comfortable. There is something soft beneath me. I smell woodsmoke and books.
Male voices drift into my consciousness, but I keep my eyes shut, savoring the safety that cocoons me.
“How did you get away from my brother, anyway?” Callum’s voice is quiet, as if he doesn’t want to wake me.
“I’ve been ingesting small doses of wolfsbane for years,” says Blake-nonchalant. “If a wolf takes a bite out of me, it ends worse for them.”
Callum chuckles. “You’re a diabolical wee shite, you know that?”