Текст книги "The wolf king"

Автор книги: Lauren Palphreyman

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Thirty

Run.

Although my heartbeat skitters in my chest, I turn to stone. My feet grow roots and I cannot move. I can only stare in horror, unblinking, at Blake.

The ghostly glow from the full moon reflects off his damp skin. He stalks toward me.

“Run.” His voice is different—low, and raspy.

The air is charged. It feels like lightning is about to strike.

And then he changes.

It only takes a few seconds, but every bone in his body breaks and shifts.

And what is left in his place. . .

Time stops.

He is as large as a wild bear. His fur is black, making him at one with the shadows. His eyes, amber, glow in the darkness. He bares his teeth and growls. Adrenaline surges through my body, cracking the stone and uprooting my feet.

Run, my brain screams.

Just as the beast leaps, I turn.

I bolt out of the room.

I knock my shoulder against the door frame as I escape, veering into the opposite stone wall, then stumbling into the center of the corridor.

There’s a crash behind me. A gnashing of teeth.

My feet pound against the stone floor, propelling me forward. I do not know where I’m going. The night is dark. The corridors and stairways unfamiliar. Again, I am alone in a labyrinth of stone and shadow, and the beast is getting closer.

One word repeats in my mind, over and over again, as the sound of my heartbeat rages in my ears.

Run. Run. Run.

His claws scrape and clack against the flagstones. There’s a smash as he barges into a wall, knocking an unlit sconce from its holder. His growl vibrates through my chest.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

I reach a stairway.

The wolf crashes in front of me, skidding over the stone. I change course, and he blocks me again with his teeth bared. His heat swamps me as I veer in the opposite direction.

He is leading me further into the maze, herding me like the dogs on the farms do with the sheep before they are slaughtered.

Goddess, help me.

The walls close in as I sprint past them. My hair sticks to my face, and my body is drenched in sweat. My cloak constricts me. The air is hot. Claustrophobic.

I need to get out of here. I need to feel the wind, and taste the mountains. I need the freshness of the rain to touch my face, and I need to see the infinite sky—even if it is not my goddess that lights it tonight.

I don’t want to be herded into my own tomb.

I will not die tonight.

Something inside me screams.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

I hurl the silver letter opener over my shoulder. I don’t wait to see if I hit my target, though he is so big, surely I cannot miss. A crash, then an aggressive growl, fills my ears. I don’t pause. I wrench a large oil painting off the wall as I pass, partially blocking the path.

Ahead, there is the stairway that Callum carried me up when I arrived at the castle.

I almost fall in my haste to get down it, regaining my balance only when I reach the bottom. Then I’m in the entrance hall, and the wolf is behind me—but the doors are open and the night is ahead.

The wind rattles the walls, and it speaks to me.

Come. Come. Come.

My muscles screaming, I hurtle out into the deserted courtyard, then beyond the castle walls into the open wilderness.

The air has never tasted so fresh, and yet I am not safe. Not yet.

Heavy paws stir the wet earth behind me, and a growl is carried on the wind.

On one side of me is the loch, silver in the light of the moon. On the other, there is nothing but open space and the steep incline of the hill that Callum and I rode down when we arrived here.

I run in the other direction, past the castle and toward the thousands of evergreen trees whispering to me.

Hide. Hide. Hide.

The wind blows my hair from my face.

The air shifts as I enter the forest. It gets damper and darker. The smell of bark and heather floods my senses. Pine needles and twigs crunch beneath my boots.

A crash resounds behind me as the wolf—as Blake—leaps into one of the trees, using it to propel him into my path.

I change course, weaving through the tall trunks, barely feeling the branches that scratch my face.

And I’m aware he is herding me again. He keeps jumping in front of me, teeth gnashing, as he dismembers trees and scatters the undergrowth. I keep having to change course, desperate to escape his fierce jaws.

He knows this forest. He knows something I do not.

I find out what it is when I burst into a clearing.

A fast-moving river cuts the path ahead, crashing against the rocks and weaving to the right. I veer left but there is a thicket of thorns so thick there is no way through.

“No!”

A low, threatening sound fills the clearing.

I turn.

Neon amber eyes flash in the gloom between the trees.

The wolf stalks forward.

“Blake. . .” I say, breathless, edging back even as the river crashes behind me. “You don’t want to do this.”

I do not want to beg.

I do not want to die.

“Blake. Please.”

He pauses, tilting his head to the side.

“You know. . . who I am.” I gulp down the thick air. “This. . . is a mistake.”

His eyes glint. Intelligence radiates from him, even in his wolf form.

I don’t know if he understands me. I don’t know if I could persuade him even if he did.

“What about the Heart of the Moon?” I try to reason with him. “If you kill me, you won’t get it.”

He looks up at the sky between the branches and howls. It is long and mournful, and it raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

“If you hurt me, Callum will kill you.”

The way his mouth moves. . . it almost looks like he is grinning. Dread fills me. Perhaps provoking Callum is the whole point.

He snarls, and the noise is primal. There is no way to reason with him.

I veer to the side, but it is too late.

He crashes into my chest, and my back hits the undergrowth. The air is knocked from my lungs.

I push and struggle against him, my hands sinking into fur, my head tilting away from gnashing teeth. He is crushing me, immeasurably heavy and strong. I kick one of his legs and he growls.

“Get off me!” I screech.

My fingers fumble in the dirt, my heart leaping when they close around a rock. I smack him in the head with it, turning and crawling from beneath him.

He bites the collar of my cloak and drags me back, turning me over with his paws so I’m forced to look up at him.

His eyes glint, a predator pleased he has caught his prey. He licks my face, as if taunting me, his tongue hot and rough and disgusting.

My skin crawls, but I do not have enough air in my lungs to scream.

When he bares his teeth, I know I’m dead.

The river crashes behind me. The wind stirs the branches above.

Fight, it seems to say.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

I bare my teeth back, feeling something feral and wild knock loose inside me.

His lip curls above his teeth. And then a lower, more threatening growl rumbles through the forest. It stirs the trees and shakes the earth. Blake’s ears prick up.

I cannot see beyond him, but something is approaching. From Blake’s reaction, it must be something even worse than he is.

Blake turns. I gulp in the sweet taste of the night as I scramble from beneath him, dragging myself closer to the river.

Another wolf prowls into the clearing.

He is huge, with tawny fur and bared teeth. The ground seems to shudder as he approaches. Fear grips my heart and squeezes. Fiona’s warning to stay inside the castle tonight resounds in my mind.

The wolf’s gaze locks onto mine.

His eyes are green, with flecks of gold and yellow.

“Callum?” I breathe.

He growls, his gaze moving back to Blake.

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Chapter Thirty-One

The two Wolves stare at one another across the clearing.

The air is charged. It’s as if the forest itself is holding its breath. Watching. Waiting.

All I can hear is my pounding heart, and the whispering leaves as they rustle in the breeze.

Fight, they seem to be saying. Fight. Fight. Fight.

A growl builds behind the bared teeth of the bigger wolf—Callum. It is so low that I feel it vibrating thought my bones. The shadows seem to cower from him.

Callum would be a terrifying opponent as a man. Tall and broad with muscles that look like they’re carved from rock. Now, he looks as feral as he is strong. His teeth are sharp enough to tear through flesh and his paws send shivers through the ground.

His eyes—they glow with the soul of the forest and they are enraged.

Blake answers with a snarl of his own. The dark wolf is standing close enough to me that I can feel his body heat. He’s guarding me, I realize. Keeping his prey close. If he moved suddenly, he could rip through my flesh.

I attempt to edge backward, sharp stones digging into my palms.

A twig snaps beneath my boot.

Blake’s head turns.

I recognize the intent too late to do anything about it.

Blake leaps on top of me as Callum races across the clearing. The wind is knocked out of my lungs. My pulse thunders as I push Blake’s head back, my fingers sinking into black fur. His teeth catch on my cloak, narrowly missing my shoulder, but then the force of the larger wolf knocks him flying. There’s a ripping sound as Blake takes part of my cloak with him.

I roll onto my front as Blake rolls back onto his feet.

Callum is close enough that I could touch him, and every muscle in his body is taut. He snarls. I eye him warily, as he glares at Blake with glowing eyes.

Blake takes off, part of my cloak between his teeth as he crashes through narrow tree trunks. Callum tears after him, stirring the carpet of wet leaves and skidding through the mud, slowing to a halt as he reaches the edge of the clearing.

He growls once more into the darkness, daring Blake to answer back.

Then he turns.

My heart stills.

Get up. My pulse screams. Get up.

I force my nerves to calm in the way I would when facing my father or the High Priest back at the palace.

Whatever hunting instinct Callum has within him, I do not want to provoke it.

“Callum,” I say softly, warily. “It’s okay. It’s me.”

I don’t know whether the male I have come to know is in there.

All I know are the stories I have been told of Wolves. Stories of monsters who hunt and kill without reason or mercy. They destroy villages, and feast on flesh. There are even ghost towns in the Northlands, discovered by our armies, filled with nothing but bones.

The wolf standing before me is capable of all of those things, I’m sure.

The murals on the walls of the Palace show the Wolves as scrawny, and ghoul like—with dull fur, and frothing mouths, and unintelligent feral black eyes.

Callum looks nothing like that. He is majestic. The way he carries himself is tall and proud. And his eyes shine with intelligence.

He prowls toward me. The moonlight sifts through the branches overhead, and reflects off his glossy coat. I edge back, though the river crashes against the rocks close behind.

“Callum,” I whisper. “You won’t hurt me.”

And then he is standing over me, close enough that I can feel waves of his body heat.

He stares at me—perfectly still. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something. He lowers his head, sinking into a bow. And I realize what he is telling me. I am safe. He won’t hurt me.

Relief crashes over me and mingles with a strange, burning curiosity.

Tentatively, I raise a hand. When he doesn’t move, I touch the side of his face, my trembling fingers sinking into thick fur.

He tenses and I stiffen.

The forest seems to hold its breath again. The leaves whisper.

Fool. Fool. Fool.

He nudges my hand with his head and I exhale—my breath pluming in front of my face.

I’m not sure what happens next. Will he let me go back to the castle? I try to push myself to my feet.

He nudges me back down. Before I can protest, he lies across my lap. His weight is even greater than Blake’s and his heat sears me through my dress.

“Goddess,” I gasp. “Callum. . . get off me, you big oaf. . .”

When I push him, he snaps at the air close to my hand.

“Callum!”

He rests his chin on the carpet of leaves.

“What are you doing? You’d better not be—” He closes his eyes. “Don’t you dare go to sleep!”

He opens one lazy eye. And—even in his wolf form—I catch the glint of amusement.

And the stupid bloody brute closes his eyes again.

I try to wriggle out from beneath him, but I cannot move. It’s as if there’s a boulder trapping me. A big, warm, breathing, snoring, stupid wolf-shaped boulder.

I push him a couple more times, but he doesn’t even stir.

I cry out, exasperated, as I realize it’s no use.

“You are just as infuriating as a wolf as you are as a man!”

I lie back, and stare up at the slithers of moonlight through the branches of the trees. A breathy sound comes out of him that sounds almost like a laugh.

Around us, the leaves whisper and thick hedges rustle and the darkness creeps. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls.

And yet, somehow, despite everything that has just happened, I know I am safe.

***

I open my eyes to grey sunlight seeping through the branches overhead.

I groan. My back aches, and my eyelids are heavy. There’s a dull throb in my temple and one of my arms is ice-cold. My mouth is bone-dry. The sound of water is tantalizingly close behind me, and small droplets of it splash my forehead as it rushes over the rocks.

I try to move to it, but I can’t. I’m trapped. I cannot move my legs.

I glance down, and breathe in sharply.

Callum is curled over my lap, and he is no longer in wolf form.

His head is resting on my stomach, one big arm slung protectively over my body. He’s facing away from me, his muscular shoulders rising and falling in time with his steady breathing.

And he’s completely naked.

Goddess!

I stare up at the branches and steady my breathing—fighting the flush in my cheeks. Quietly, I push myself onto my elbows and look again.

My eyes trace the bulge of his biceps, then the broadness of his shoulders. An urge to touch him flares inside me.

Tentatively, I raise one hand, and hover it above his back. His body heat sears my fingertips as I move closer.

He stirs, making a soft, gruff sound at the back of his throat. Hurriedly, I lie back down again, pinning my hands to my sides.

He pushes himself up onto his forearms.

“Morning, Princess,” he says.

He shifts so that his face hovers above mine. He keeps one arm over my body, cocooning me within his large frame. I keep my gaze on his, aware that if I look down, I will see a lot more than his back and shoulders.

“Had yourself a wee adventure last night, did you?”

Tension I didn’t even realize was building loosens. I thought he might be angry with me for not staying in my chambers. Especially as he’s been so stand-offish with me over the past week. Yet he seems relaxed. Amused, even.

“Why aren’t you annoyed?” I narrow my eyes.

He looks at me curiously. “Why would I be?”

“I didn’t do what you told me to do.”

“If you always did as you were told, we would never have met. Plus, I’m presuming you had your reasons for leaving your room, and you weren’t just out for a nighttime stroll?”

“Someone sounded like they were in pain. I thought it was Ryan.”

He smiles, brimming with warmth. “There you go, then. I would have done the same.”

“It was Blake.”

He exhales. “Aye. I thought as much.”

He sits up. The muscles in his back ripple as he stretches. He cracks his neck, then stands and rolls his shoulders. I’m not sure he even notices he’s not wearing anything.

When he turns back around, my gaze drops. I cannot help it.

My eyes widen and I jerk my head back again to stare at the trees.

The only naked men I have ever seen are the statues in the palace gardens.

Callum chuckles. “What are you doing? Come on, we need to get back.”

Face flaming, I roll onto my side so I’m not looking at him, and push myself to my feet. I wince. Every muscle in my body is stiff and aching.

When I turn to face Callum, my gaze accidentally drops once more before I resolutely look away.

“Come on,” he says, amused.

His warmth washes over me as he steps closer and scoops me into his arms. I hook my wrists around his neck as if it’s a reflex, but irritation sparks inside me. It’s annoying enough that he thinks he can manhandle me whenever he pleases. It’s even worse he thinks it’s appropriate even when he’s completely naked. “I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself!”

“Aye, I know.” The corner of his lip twitches as he heads back through the trees. “I reckoned if I carried you, you’d have to stop staring at my cock.”

I make a strangled sound, then punch him in the arm. I may as well be hitting a rock. “You’re horrible!”

He laughs. “You’re the one who can’t stop looking.”

I glare at him, and his expression softens.

“You’ve had a rough night, Princess. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I swallow. “Can you remember what happens when you’re in wolf form?”

“Aye. I remember.”

“Blake tried to kill me.”

All the humor drains from Callum’s eyes. “No. No, he didn’t.”

Fire blazes in my chest. I thought Callum might be different from the Southlands lords who never listened to, nor believed, the ladies in the palace. I was clearly wrong about him. I grit my teeth. “Yes, he did. You obviously don’t remember if you think that, but the least you could do is believe me when I tell you.”

Callum sighs heavily. “No, Princess. You’ve got me wrong. I’m not trying to dispute that he came after you. What I’m saying is he didn’t try to kill you.”

He chews his cheek, his expression troubled.

“He chased you to that clearing, far away from the other Wolves that were out last night. He got his scent on you so they wouldn’t smell you. He took part of your cloak with him, so if they caught your scent, they’d chase after him instead.”

He stares at the forest ahead, his jaw tightening.

“He wasn’t trying to kill you. He was protecting you.” He swallows, hard. “And Blake doesn’t do anything unless it’s within his own interests. So I want to know why.”

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Chapter Thirty-Two

Callum is quiet as he carries me through the forest.

While he was relaxed and easygoing when he awoke, his expression becomes increasingly strained as we get closer to the castle.

With every step, his jaw tightens, and his arms harden around me. His hold on my thighs gets firmer, his fingers digging into my skin through the material of my dress. A couple of times, I catch his nose wrinkling as if he smells something bad.

I sniff the air and all I can smell is the wet leaves from the forest.

I flush, wondering if the problem is me. I got hot last night as I ran from Blake, and I can’t imagine I smell particularly pleasant.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

His eyebrows raise and I wonder if he’s surprised I noticed. “I. . . it’s just. . .” He shakes his head and gives me a small smile. “It’s just a wolf thing. Don’t worry about it.”

When we reach the grassy expanse that leads back to the castle gate, the morning is quiet. A thin layer of mist coats the loch, and the heather and fern are dull in the grey light.

Ahead, there are a few Wolves making their way back through the castle walls, laughing and joking with one another.

They’re all as naked as Callum.

“Goddess!” I turn my head, only to be confronted with Callum’s hard chest. My pulse beats a little faster, warmth blooming in my lower stomach. His grip on me almost imperceptibly tightens. “You Wolves really have no modesty, do you?”

Callum chuckles. “It’s only natural.”

“Natural, perhaps. But it’s far more acceptable to wear clothes when in other people’s company.”

“Only because that’s what your society has taught you.”

“So if I started prancing around without my clothes on, you’d be perfectly okay with that?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “If you started prancing around with no clothes on, I think I’d like that very much, Princess.”

“Brute,” I mutter.

I expect Callum to take me back to my room, but instead, he carries me into his chambers.

There’s a fire crackling in the hearth, and in front of it stands the copper tub, filled with steaming water. I glance at it longingly as Callum places me down on his bed, then turns and walks over to his wardrobe. I stare at the ceiling, determined not to look at him.

Then I glance at Callum, even though I know I shouldn’t.

I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that he’s pulled on a pair of loose-fitting cotton breeches. He’s still topless though, his muscular back on display as he closes the wardrobe doors.

“I didn’t know you wore breeches,” I say.

“The way you were looking at me earlier. . .” He leans against the wall by the window, his eyes glinting playfully as he shakes his head. “I thought I’d better cover myself up as much as possible. I was feeling very vulnerable.”

I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest as I lean against the headboard. “And yet, you seem to be absent a shirt.”

He laughs, then shrugs. “I left my kilt in the forest. Don’t tell anyone, but these breeches are actually rather comfortable. Do I look like a gentleman?”

I laugh, too, and shake my head. “No.”

“No?”

“You look like a rake.”

He puts a hand on his chest, his eyes widening in mock indignation. “A rake? Me? Why?”

“Firstly, there is the case of the missing shirt.” My gaze drops to his chest and the ridges of his abdomen. I look at the hard V of his hips, and the line of hair trailing downward, and swallow. “Also. . . a gentlemen wouldn’t wear those breeches.”

“Why not?”

“Look how loose-fitting they are! And the material. . .” My gaze drops even further, before I hurriedly meet his eyes again, heat creeping into my cheeks. “I don’t think you’re as covered up as you think you are. Wherever did you get them from?”

“I got these from the King’s City when I was looking for my mother. A market by the docks, if I recall correctly.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Why’s that?”

“The docks are an incredibly disreputable place to go.” I raise an eyebrow. “I should have known you would find yourself there.”

A half-smile plays on his lips. “It was easier to blend in there as a wolf, that’s for sure.”

Something in the air seems to shift.

“Why did you bring me to your chambers?” I ask.

He opens his mouth as if to speak. The humor disappears from his expression and he sighs.

“I. . . the wolf hasn’t quite settled down yet,” he says. “I suppose I’m feeling a wee bit. . . protective of you, right now. I would rather that you were here.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”

Some of the tension leaves his upper body, and he raises his eyebrows. “Really? That was easier than I expected.”

“I can be agreeable when I want to be.” I shrug off my torn cloak, then I take off my boots, and shuffle back on the bed. “Plus, your bed is more comfortable than mine.”

His gaze moves to my bare feet as they sink into the downy quilt, then back to my face. His jaw tightens.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

He takes a step toward the bed. Then he halts, his hand curling into a fist.

Gritting his teeth, he swivels on his heel and starts pacing up and down the room. The floorboards creak beneath his weight.

My brow furrows. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

“I. . . nothing. . . It’s a—”

“Do not say it’s a wolf thing. You’ve barely spoken to me all week, I was chased through the forest last night, and now you’re acting strange. Tell me what’s going on.”

He stands still and blows out hot air. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Irritation prickles beneath my skin. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. Goddess knows that you should. You’re inappropriate, and you’re the enemy of my kingdom, and last night you turned into a wolf and slept on top of me! But you don’t. So stop acting as if I’m made of glass and you’re afraid I might shatter, and tell me what’s wrong.”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck, then he sighs.

“Look, Princess, like I said, the wolf hasn’t quite settled down,” he says. “And you’re in my bed, with the scent of another male all over you. And I don’t like that. I don’t like that one bit. I want you to smell like me. When another wolf is close, I want it to be my scent they smell on your skin. I want to mark you as mine. And I can think of countless ways I would do it. Countless ill-advised, highly pleasurable ways I would do it. It’s all I can think about. And I know I should leave and calm myself down. But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here, with you.” He shakes his head. “You smell so much like him. . . like Blake. . . It’s driving me out of my mind.”

I should leave before things get out of control. I shouldn’t allow a male so say things like that to me. I definitely shouldn’t like it.

I am held captive by his helpless gaze. Something hot is pooling inside me, heating my blood and making my skin hum.

I swallow. “Oh.”

He rubs his face with both hands. “Fuck. I’ve frightened you.”

The heat turns into angry flames. “Stop doing that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He stares up at the ceiling. “It was inappropriate—”

“No. Not that. This. Stop treating me like I’m some precious doll that needs shielding from the world. Stop treating me as if I can’t handle things. As if I can’t handle you. You are inappropriate. You shouldn’t say half of the things you say to me. But has it occurred to you that perhaps I like it that you do? That perhaps I like it that you talk to me as if I’m an actual human being? That, perhaps, my entire life, no one else ever really has?”

My skin is burning now, and I’m breathless. It feels good to say it, to unleash it, to let something out that I think has been building up inside me for quite some time.

Callum’s eyes widen. It’s as if he’s not quite sure what to do.

He releases a half-laugh. “No, I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“About what?”

“You said I smelt like Blake. I don’t want to smell like him either. Do you want me to wash?”

He exhales, then goes back to his pacing. “No. I want to wash you.”

He sounds so sullen that it almost makes me laugh. “Callum!”

“What?” His lips are twitching, even though his body is tense. “I thought you liked how inappropriate I am.”

I roll my eyes.

Then I glance at the copper bathtub.

Something has been knocked loose inside me. Telling him off has made me feel daring. I want to feel that way again. I’m fed up of locking up my emotions. I’m fed up of making myself smaller than I am so that others can feel bigger, stronger. I’m fed up of being shielded from the world and all it has to offer.

Curiosity flares inside me.

He protects me because he thinks he holds all the power. But the way he is acting. . . I wonder if I am powerful, too.

“Okay,” I say. “Wash me.”

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