Текст книги "The wolf king"

Автор книги: Lauren Palphreyman

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Callum stills.

He’s facing away from me, and the muscles in his back harden. I don’t think he’s breathing. I don’t think I am, either.

We are both frozen in time.

Only, my heartbeat is wild in my ears. Did I really just say that?

He turns around.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

“What?” His voice is low and gruff as gravel.

I raise my chin. “I thought Wolves had superhuman hearing?”

He lets loose a half-laugh. “Aye. But you can’t possibly have said what I think you just said.”

“Why not?”

The rise and fall of his chest is deeper than usual, as though he’s making a strained effort to control his breathing. His fingers twitch at his side. “You want. . . You want me to wash you?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You realize you’d have to take off your clothes for me to do that?”

“I am well aware of how a bath works, Callum. I have bathed many times before. More so, I’d imagine, than you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. There’s an exasperated look on his face. “I’d imagine you’ve not been bathed by a male before? No?”

“When I was at the palace, people would always fuss around me while I was bathing. I do not see why this is any different.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s different.”

“You Wolves all seem perfectly fine to wander around without wearing anything. I don’t see why I should be held to a higher set of rules.”

I slide off the bed and Callum tenses as I walk to the bathtub.

I’m hyperaware of him tracking my every movement, and it feels good to have so completely captured his attention. It feels powerful.

I run my hand through the water. It’s warm and soothing, and the steam carries the scent of lavender as it mingles with the woodsmoke. I wonder if Isla ran this bath for him. The thought of ruining her obvious plans to seduce him provokes a burst of satisfaction that startles me.

I glance over my shoulder at Callum. He looks wary.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“You’re going to get me into trouble.”

I am enjoying this far too much. “I thought you wanted to wash me.”

“Aye.” His eyes darken to the color of the forest at night. “I do.”

I stare at the steaming water.

As much as I’m enjoying feeling in control of this situation, if I do this, it will be the boldest thing I’ve ever done.

I said this was no different than being bathed back at the palace, but it is and we both know it. No man has ever seen me without my clothes on before. That is something that is supposed to be reserved only for my husband.

For Sebastian.

For a man who makes males from the Northlands fight for sport. Who threatened me. Who skins Wolves alive and hurt Ryan and said he’d throw me into the kennels for Callum after he was done with me.

Sebastian sees me as nothing more than a prize, a trophy for him to keep on show, an item for him to do with as he wishes.

But what about what I want?

The bedchambers are silent, except for the gentle crackling coming from the hearth. I can feel Callum watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. The tension in the room is like a tangible thing, the air unbreathable.

“Princess. . .” His voice is strained. Almost pleading. Though I’m not sure what he’s pleading for. I don’t think he knows, either.

My fingers tremble as I undo the fastenings on the back of my dress. I pull the sleeves down, and let it fall and pool at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a black shift.

Callum’s eyes are wide, and his hand is curled into a fist at his side. The distance between us feels palpable.

He doesn’t move. He is that alpha from the fighting ring again; tense and ready for battle.

I don’t want him to see the faint scars on my back—the ones that the High Priest gave me. So I face him when I take hold of the hem of my shift. His jaw tightens.

“Princess. . .” he says again, and I’m not sure if it’s a warning or a plea.

I imagine I am back at the palace, and merely undressing for any other bath, and lift it over my head, revealing myself fully to him.

Callum inhales, his mouth slightly parting. He lets loose a shuddery breath.

He keeps his eyes on mine, his jawline hard with determination. There’s defiance in his expression, too. It’s as if he’s fighting something.

But then his gaze drops.

And, Goddess, I feel the weight of it on my body. Though I’m standing close to the fire, my nipples harden. My breasts feel heavier, swollen. And there’s an ache between my legs.

I cannot believe I am doing this. I should grab my shift and cover myself up. Yet I allow his gaze to brand my skin, and I feel powerful. I like the way his expression changes, his biceps tensing.

The wolf flashes behind Callum’s eyes. He squeezes them shut and curses under his breath.

I step into the copper bathtub. The water is warm and fragrant as I sink down into it, letting it soothe my muscles and wrap around my body until only my head and shoulders are exposed.

Callum looks like he’s in pain. I’ve never seen someone look so tense.

“Well?” I say.

The ghost of a smile plays on his lips. He blinks a few times, and he arches an eyebrow. “Have I told you that people don’t speak to me that way?”

“Several times.”

He huffs a laugh. Shaking his head, he crosses the room. With each step he takes toward me, my heart beats a little faster.

When he reaches the tub, he sinks to his knees, bringing his face close to mine. His warmth and heady scent mingle with the steam.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, though I feel more daring than I have ever felt in my life. “People bathe me all the time. It’s just a bath.”

His eyes glint as though he can see through my lie.

He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, and for a horrible moment, I think he is going to walk away.

He laughs again, and shakes his head.

He reaches for the bar of soap and the cloth that sit on the tray on the floor, then trails his hand in the water. He doesn’t touch me, but I feel his heat on my torso as though he is. He lathers the soap between his big hands—releasing the scent of soap suds into his bedchambers.

The humor disappears from his eyes. “I can smell him on your face.”

I remember how Blake licked me last night.

I sink beneath the water, and rub my cheeks. When I emerge, Callum’s muscles seem a little less tense.

“Better?” I ask.

“Aye.” He gives me a soft smile. “Much.”

He runs the soapy cloth over my shoulder, then down my arm. I can feel the heat of his palm, even though his skin is not touching mine.

I revel in the strangeness of this new feeling. No one has touched me this way before. I should feel vulnerable and exposed. Goddess knows, I am those things. But my body is soft beneath his touch, and it feels as if his hands were made for me.

He moves the cloth over my collarbone, causing my pulse to spike, and watches the trail of soapy suds he leaves in his wake. His hand seems so big when it’s on my body.

My gaze moves back to his face.

Despite the heat that’s pooling between my legs that has nothing to do with the warm water, his expression almost makes me laugh.

His jaw is set with determination, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so focused.

His hand dips beneath the waterline, slowly moving down my chest. I feel his thumb brush against the swell of my breast and I know he must be able to feel how hard my heart is beating.

Why do I, so badly, want to tease him?

“I thought you said you weren’t ever going to touch me,” I say.

“I’m not touching you.” His serious eyes follow his hand as it trails back between my breasts. “I’m touching the cloth. And the cloth is touching you.”

A laugh I didn’t know was building erupts from my lips.

“What?”

“Nothing. . . just. . . you.” I look pointedly at his hand, splayed across my chest. The cloth is barely visible beneath it. “I would definitely consider this as you touching me.”

He grins. “You’d know if I was really touching you, Princess.”

I do know, I want to tell him. I know he is touching me because my whole body is on fire and there’s something inside me that aches to be released and no one’s hands have ever brought me to life like that before.

His expression darkens as if he’s sensed the direction of my thoughts.

He shuts his eyes abruptly, hiding the wolf.

“Why do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

I touch his cheek, dampening his skin with my wet hand. “You shut your eyes every time it happens. Are you embarrassed by the wolf?”

“Embarrassed? No. Never.” He opens his eyes, revealing those strange yet beautiful irises. “I’m proud to be a wolf. But I don’t want to scare you.”

“I’ve already told you that you don’t.”

“You’re very strange.”

“So are you.”

I trace his jaw with my thumb. Slowly, he moves his hand up to the back of my neck. His grip is firm, yet my body softens at his touch. His face is inches from mine, and his warm breath tickles my skin.

My pulse thunders in my ears.

“Rory.” His voice is strained, barely louder than a whisper. He presses his forehead against mine, bringing his lips closer. “You need to tell me to leave. I want to be a better man, but I don’t think I can be.”

“Callum—”

The door opens behind us and adrenaline and shame surge through me.

“What on earth have I walked in on here?” Blake’s amused drawl comes from the doorway and a look of fury crosses Callum’s face as he jerks back, his shoulders stiffening.

I sink further beneath the water, cheeks flaming as I glare over my shoulder at the male leaning against the doorframe.

“I had fun last night, little rabbit.” Blake’s lips curve into a smile. “We should do it again sometime.”

Callum gets up, water running down his arms, and crosses the room in a couple of strides. He grabs Blake by the collar of his shirt, and slams him into the wall.

“Before you do something you regret, Callum,” says Blake, his voice choked. “I have a message from the king.”

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Chapter Thirty-Four

I am exposed.

Even though my cheeks flame, the bathwater seems suddenly cold. The grey light coming through the window is revealing.

I’m not supposed to let any male see me undressed, and there are now two of them in the room.

What’s more, Blake is clearly amused by the situation.

For a dark moment, I hope Callum chokes him.

After a couple of seconds, he steps back.

Blake doesn’t quite manage to conceal the large gulp of air he takes before brushing down his now-crumpled shirt, the collar askew. His hair is ruffled, and his cheeks are slightly pink. He still manages to look smug, though.

“Which king?” growls Callum.

Blake leans against the doorframe and lets his expression settle into one of boredom. “Ours.” There’s something almost sarcastic in his tone.

“What message?”

“You know, you really ought to watch that temper of yours, Callum.”

“And you ought to watch your back.”

“Oh, you’re far too honorable a wolf for me to worry about that.”

“Goddess, Blake! Are you going to tell me the message?” growls Callum. “Or am I going to beat it out of you?”

Blake’s eyes glint. He clearly enjoys provoking Callum. “He’s in trouble. He needs your help.”

“What trouble?” Despite the anger rippling out of Callum, I catch a hint of concern in his voice.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere private to speak. When you’ve finished washing your pet, of course.”

My blood heats, and I straighten as I try to compose myself.

I catch the flash of interest in Blake’s eyes when he catches sight of my upper back. He might have seen the scars that brand my skin. I sink down quickly, and the water sloshes over the side.

“You don’t look at her. You look at me.” Callum moves sideways so his body blocks me from view. “Get the fuck out of my chambers. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Blake pushes off from the wall. “Look at you, dressing like a Southerner to impress the Princess. Breeches? Whatever would your father say? Goddess rest his soul.”

Callum’s entire body tenses. I remember what he said about his father. Whatever their relationship was, it obviously wasn’t an easy one. Blake has crossed a line.

Something hardens inside me. I forget I’m naked and vulnerable.

I want to get under Blake’s skin.

“Do the other Wolves know?” I ask him.

“Know what?”

“That you’re ashamed of being a wolf.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You weren’t at the ritual last night.” I recall the groans of pain that drew me out of my chambers, and the struggle on Blake’s face when I walked in on him. “You were trying not to shift.”

His head tilts, reminding me of a cat deciding whether it wants to play with a mouse. “Do you know?”

“Know what?”

“Why your mother died?”

All the blood drains from my body. Time slows. I am no longer a living, breathing, thing.

I am rage.

“That’s enough.” Callum’s voice pulls me back into my body.

“She died of a disease,” I snarl.

“Did she?” says Blake.

“Out.” Callum growls. “Now.”

Blake steps back into the corridor.

“Wait.” I cringe at the desperation in my voice.

Both males turn to me, but only Callum seems surprised at my outburst.

“Do you know what she died of?” I ask Blake.

“No,” he says. “But I’d like to. Wouldn’t you?”

He turns on his heel, and disappears from sight.

Callum shuts the door. The wolf is in his eyes, provoked by anger this time. His expression softens as he looks at me. “Are you okay, Princess?”

My heart is beating too fast.

“Yes,” I say quietly, though I’m not sure if I am.

I feel exposed again. Small. Silly. What was I thinking? I should not have been this bold. Nothing good could come of it.

Callum grabs a shirt from his wardrobe and pulls it on. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I have to go. I need to find out what’s going on. If James is in trouble. . .”

“Blake could be lying.”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “He wasn’t. His heartbeat was steady. I believe him. Finish your bath. I’ll come for you later.”

He heads across the room, fastening his buttons. When he’s opened the door, he looks over his shoulder. His eyes darken, and he blinks a couple of times before blowing out hot air.

“It’s probably for the best,” he mutters.

I’m not sure whether he’s talking to me or himself as he heads into the corridor and closes the door behind him.

***

I finish my bath quickly.

I’m not sure how to feel about what just happened. It’s the boldest thing I’ve ever done, and if my father ever found out, I’d be severely punished.

Still, Callum’s touch lingers on my skin. I think he was going to kiss me, and what’s more, I wanted him to. He has provoked a restlessness inside me that I have never felt before.

I almost miss the days when I felt nothing at all.

I dry off, and when he hasn’t returned, I dress and head back to my chambers.

I hurry past Isla on my way, trying not to react as she mutters something derogatory about me to her friend.

Mrs. McDonald told me I didn’t have to help in the kitchens today, so I spend my time poring over the medical books in my chambers.

Blake’s words about my mother have taken root in my mind. I cannot get rid of them.

I read until darkness creeps through my window, and I have to strain to read the blurred ink on parchment.

When Callum still hasn’t come, I wonder whether he’s ridden out to some Northlands village to find the king. It angers me that he would go without telling me.

Yet after the events of last night, I am finding it hard to keep my eyes open.

I shut them.

I’m in the forest, lying on my back.

The moonlight seeps through the branches overhead.

Callum’s face hovers above mine. His body pins me to the fresh earth and his body heat sears into me. He is naked, and I feel the hardness of him against my hip.

A growl reverberates through my chest, though I am not sure if it is coming from him or me as his lips move to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. My legs wrap around his waist.

And I am on fire.

Flames rage inside me, longing for release.

It is suffocating. The heat. The furnace. The weight of him. The pressure building at my core.

I sink my fingernails into his back and he groans as his mouth moves lower, and one of his hands moves higher.

There is an ache between my legs where heat pools. An unbearable ache.

“Callum,” I gasp. “Callum.”

The air is still, crushing, unrelenting.

The leaves rustle.

We are not alone in the forest.

He nips my ear with his teeth and a spark of heat rushes through me. I moan as my back arches.

My gaze locks onto the wolf, standing in the shadows.

It crashes through the undergrowth toward me.

My eyes jolt open.

My pulse is racing and my body is on fire. The ache from my dream is still there. I’m breathing fast and the covers stick to my skin. Liquid heat pools between my legs.

It takes me a moment to get my bearings—the single bed, the books and pots on the shelves, and the night casting my chambers in shadow.

There’s a crash outside my door.

I bolt out of bed.

“Stay away from her.” Callum’s rough voice reverberates through the door. I fling it open.

Callum has shoved Blake into the wall, like he did this morning. Yet there is something more threatening about the position in the darkness. Callum seems bigger and more unruly. Blake is tense, his eyes narrowed. He is fighting back this time, with his hand curled around Callum’s neck.

Both males look as if they are struggling for breath.

They turn to look at me, and I inhale sharply.

Callum looks feral. There is no other word to describe him. His eyes are as bright, and as wolf-like, as they were when he was in wolf form. His breathing is ragged and hard.

“Go back inside,” says Blake. “Now.”

“Callum?” I say softly.

He releases Blake and turns to face me. He looks different. Wild. The wolf-like desire to hunt gleams in his eyes.

He stands there, perfectly still.

It should scare me. He should scare me. Yet my pulse is quickening for a different reason entirely.

“Callum? What’s wrong?”

He stalks toward me.

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Chapter Thirty-Five

Callum is no longer the male I have come to know. He is no longer gentle and protective and kind. He is the wolf that chased Blake in the forest—wild and feral and hungry.

His muscles are tensed, and his biceps look like they’re about to rip free from his rolled-up sleeves. His forearms are corded and they’re like steel.

And the scent of him—Goddess, the scent of him—is somehow dark and primal and powerful.

His eyes glow in the darkness, and they are locked on mine.

My whole body is hot. Aching. Restless.

What is wrong with him? What is wrong with me?

I cannot decide whether to run away from him, or run toward him.

I am ensnared. I can’t move, even though the Northlands winds seem to rage inside me.

The air pulses as he gets closer and heat radiates from him.

“Callum!” A sharp female voice slices through the darkness.

He spins around and growls. His power rumbles across the small landing as Fiona comes into view, panting. She halts at the top of the winding staircase and her stance widens—as if she’s getting ready to fight. Even if she’s only wearing a thin nightgown, and her brown hair is loose.

“Callum!” Command laces her tone, despite the wariness on her face. “Go cool down.”

He snarls and the sound is deep with menace. He prowls toward her.

She tilts her head back and grits her teeth. The wolf flashes behind her eyes. Callum’s hands are in fists at his sides.

“Cool. The fuck. Down.” Fiona prods him in the chest with each word. “Now.”

He growls, and I cannot help but marvel at Fiona’s courage. She doesn’t even flinch.

I fear for her, though. Callum is not himself.

I try to reach out to him with my thoughts, as if my will alone could stop him from harming her.

Calm down. Calm down!

Callum’s broad shoulders soften. Something in the air shifts.

He pushes past her and stalks down the stairs.

Fiona’s body deflates, and the wolf disappears from her eyes. I exhale and crumple against the doorframe, even though tension coils within me.

“Well, that was. . . interesting,” says Blake.

I’d almost forgotten he was there.

He leans against the stone wall, the torchlight flickering across his face. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone where Callum grabbed him. He cocks an eyebrow at Fiona.

“Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I’ll end you.” She points her finger at him. “Now, piss off.”

He dips his head deferentially. He almost looks like he’s bowing. Fiona flinches, and I’m not sure why.

He pushes off from the wall and saunters past her down the stairs.

“I mean it, Blake,” she hisses. “Not a word.”

The darkness does not reply.

She looks troubled. When she notices me looking, she composes herself and offers me a smile.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She laughs, and whatever darkness that was plaguing her lifts. “You’re asking about me? Aye. I’m fine. Are you alright?”

“Yes.” I bite my bottom lip. “What. . . what was wrong with him? Is he okay?”

“Callum? Oh, aye. That big oaf is just fine. He’ll be mortified, later, though. It’s. . . it’s a wolf thing.”

When I fold my arms, she grins.

“We might want to have this conversation somewhere private.” She gestures over my shoulder.

I step aside, and she enters my room.

She settles on my bed, leaning against the wall and stretching her bare feet over the side of the mattress as I shut the door.

“Why was he acting like that?” I ask.

I sit down beside her, though keep a little distance between us. I’m not used to anyone being this comfortable around me.

“He’s become. . . a wee bit attached to you since he brought you here. And it’s the night after the full moon. The wolf hasn’t quite settled yet.” She chews her bottom lip. “This is potentially a bit. . . awkward. . . but were you, perhaps, relieving some tension earlier?”

There’s an aura of wicked amusement rippling off her.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“You know, scratching an itch? Easing some frustrations?” When I just look at her blankly, she whispers, “You know. . . touching yourself?”

My cheeks flame. “What? No!”

Her eyebrows raise. “No? Hm. You were feeling a wee bit. . . restless?”

My face is on fire. I stare at the bookshelf across the room, the dream I had about Callum flashing through my mind. “No!”

Fiona chuckles softly. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Your scent. . . it changes depending on your emotions. Fear. Anger. Arousal. As Wolves, we can often pick up on these shifts. Particularly when we’re attuned to a certain person.”

My heartbeat thumps against my chest, mortification wrapping its cold fingers around my heart.

“He could smell my dream?”

“Ah, so you had a dream?” She grins. “I’m not sure exactly what happened. My guess is he sensed the shift in you and came to stand guard, in case any other Wolves sensed it too. Like Blake.”

“Blake?” My blood turns cold, and dislike pulses through my body.

“I’d wager that’s what set Callum off. Once he let the wolf take over. . . well. . . his attention will have been consumed by you.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen him get that worked up before.”

She swallows, and all the color drains from her face.

“And then. . . Callum and I. . .” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “In front of Blake. . . shit.”

“What?”

She wrings her hands together. “I challenged Callum, my alpha. And he backed down.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Aye. That’s bad. It’s—”

“A wolf thing?” I arch my eyebrow.

“Aye.” She sighs and her breath plumes in front of her face. “It gives me the right to openly challenge him for alpha of Highfell.”

I’m slightly concerned for Callum, but my curiosity is spiked. “A female can be alpha?”

“Aye. Though it’s rare. Archaic traditions make it hard for us to gain the status.”

“Will you challenge him?”

She lets out a dark laugh. “No. Course not. I have no designs on the role.”

“So why are you worried?”

“Because if Blake tells anyone and it becomes open knowledge, Callum and I will have to fight it out. Physically. Publicly.” Her stare is dark and blank. “Wolf law.”

She tries to look like she’s unaffected, but she fiddles with her fingers.

“Blake won’t tell anyone,” I say.

“He’d better not.”

“He hasn’t told anyone about me yet.”

She gives me an almost pitying look, as if I’m being naïve. “He’s not doing that out of the goodness of his heart, Rory. He’s playing some sort of game.”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes. I’m not a fool. “I know. He has us all where he wants us. You challenging Callum for alpha would disrupt that. He won’t tell.”

Fiona’s stare is puzzled. Appraising.

“You seem to understand that snake better than any of us,” she says.

“I grew up in the palace, in a den of vipers. I would be a fool not to learn their language.”

“I hope you’re right.” She shuffles off the bed, and heads to the door. “Can I ask you something, Rory?”

Her gaze is so penetrating I have to force myself to meet it. I don’t want her to look too deeply inside me. I’m afraid she’ll see that I’m a viper too. Didn’t I allow myself to be taken here, to gain intelligence on the Wolves that I could use to barter for my freedom?

“Do you want to go back home?” she asks. “To the Southlands? Your father? Sebastian?”

Every muscle in my body hardens, and every bone stiffens.

No, my soul is screaming, but I’m that statue in my dreams again and I can’t get the words out. No. No. No.

I am not ready for that question. I am not ready to admit I want to neglect my duty, my kingdom, my role as the princess.

I am not ready to give voice to the truth.

I am a traitor to the Southlands.

“Why do you ask me that?” I have to fight to keep my voice even.

“Because you’re right. You do speak their language.” She shrugs. “I think you could be more useful to us than a hostage to be traded for the Heart of the Moon. Don’t you?”

I don’t respond. I may not want to go home, not truly. That doesn’t mean I want to commit treason.

She closes the door behind her—leaving me alone with my thoughts and the darkness.

I am restless as I get back into bed.

My mind whirls over everything Fiona said. My thoughts are like daggers. I am destined to either betray my kingdom, or betray Callum by telling my father all I’ve learned about the Wolves since I got here.

Through my guilt, I keep thinking about Callum prowling toward me with his eyes dark with intent.

What would have happened if Fiona hadn’t arrived?

Would he have thrown Blake aside and kissed me? Would he have carried me to the bed? Would he have eased this ache that consumes me?

Heat surges through my body and throbs between my legs.

I’m on fire as I imagine his mouth on mine, his hands gripping my hips. I slide my hand up my thigh, and imagine it’s his. I’m aching. I need it to stop, I need—

Someone knocks on the door and I breathe in sharply. I know, without opening it, that it’s Callum.

Cheeks flaming, I slip out of bed, and prowl across the room. I open the door a crack, my heart hammering.

Callum’s eyes are human once more. His expression is soft, remorseful, even. He’s soaking wet, and his shirt and breeches cling to his body. As usual, he’s emitting heat.

“May I come in?” he asks.

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