Текст книги "The wolf king"

Автор книги: Lauren Palphreyman

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Forty-One

I burst into Blake’s room.

He’s draped in an armchair by the window, and doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading—the blue tome with stars on the spine that he took from my chambers.

“Please, do come in, little rabbit.” He flicks to the next page. “No need to knock.”

“He’s hurt. You need to come. Now.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Wolfsbane.”

His expression is unreadable, but he gets up.

He places the book on his writing desk, which has been tidied after the other night. In fact, the space is now immaculate; the bed is made, books are neatly tucked into the shelves along the wall, and the sheepskin rug by the hearth no longer glints with shards of broken glass.

He pulls a black leather case out of a drawer in his armoire, then heads to the door. I fall into step beside him.

When we enter Callum’s chambers, my stomach drops.

He’s pulled himself up onto the bed and his downy quilt is red with his blood. His breathing is raspy, and he’s barely moving.

“Callum?” I bolt across the room and grab his hand.

His fingers don’t curl around mine like they usually do. His skin is cold.

Dots dance in front of my eyes as Blake kneels by my side.

He grabs Callum’s shoulder and inspects the wound. “Why didn’t you ride back earlier, you stubborn fool?”

Callum’s eyes are glazed. I’m not sure he can hear what Blake is saying.

The chambers swim around me.

I recognize the look on his face. My mother had that expression not long before she died.

“Hold his shoulders.” Blake’s command jolts me back into my body.

I lean over the bed as Blake produces a small vial of translucent liquid from his case.

“Brace yourself,” says Blake. “He’s not going to like this.”

I force myself to breathe, even though the air is thick with the scent of blood and poison. It mingles with the heavy woodsmoke coming from the fireplace.

I nod, remembering how hard Ryan fought against the antidote when it was given to him. Callum must be double his size and strength.

Blake uncorks the vial and tips about half of it on the wound. It hisses, and my muscles tense, readying for a fight.

Callum doesn’t react.

A wave of nausea rolls over me. “Come on, Callum. Please.”

Blake brushes me aside and grabs Callum’s hair in his fist. He tips the rest of the liquid into his mouth, clamping his hand over his lips. When he pulls away, the translucent liquid dribbles down Callum’s chin.

Blake sighs, and panic fizzes in my chest.

“Why isn’t it working?” I ask.

Blake stares at Callum and his expression is unreadable.

“If this is how you wish to go, then don’t let me stop you.” He rests his forearms on the mattress and leans closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after your pet when you’re gone.”

“Blake,” I warn.

Callum’s eyes flicker open for a moment.

“You know, I haven’t decided how I’ll fuck her first.” Blake’s voice is low and seductive. “With my fingers, or my tongue.”

Callum’s head rolls to the side and he grunts.

The corner of Blake’s lip lifts. “What do you think I should do? There are so many possibilities. Perhaps I’ll have her ride my face.”

Callum growls, but the noise dies in his throat as his back arches up from the mattress.

“Stop it!” I snarl.

Blake leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Or perhaps I’ll have her on her knees before me while I sit on James’s throne, my fist in her hair, her lips moving up and down my cock as I fuck her mouth.”

Callum’s eyes jolt open. They are enraged, and they don’t move from Blake’s. He grips the bedsheets.

“I wonder—” continues Blake.

“That’s enough!” I lurch at Blake.

He hooks his arm around my waist, pulls me onto his lap, and slams his lips against mine.

I stiffen. Every muscle hardens as my blood turns to ice. For a moment, time is moving too quickly and too slowly at the same time.

It all floods back—Blake’s mouth crushed against mine, his strong arm holding me to him, the feeling of his thighs tensed beneath me. He’s barely breathing. I don’t think I am either. I jolt away and raise my hand to slap him.

Only, before I make impact with his face, the air is knocked from my lungs.

There’s heat and muscle against my back and my chest as the three of us crash to the ground. The floorboards groan, or perhaps it’s Blake as his head hits the floor. Callum’s growl vibrates against my ear. The scent of male sweat floods my nostrils.

I scramble from between them, my hair in my face, my breathing fast.

Blake gets the upper hand for a moment, and I almost stagger into the copper bathtub as they roll over on the ground. I dart aside, grabbing onto the mahogany bed post, as Callum pins him down and wraps his hands around Blake’s neck.

“There he is,” says Blake, on a choked breath.

Callum’s eyes are feral. All the muscles in his arms are pronounced. Fury ripples from him in waves. It is almost inconceivable that he was lying on the bed, close to death, just a moment ago.

Blake tilts his head to catch my eye. There’s blood dribbling from his nose.

“A little help,” he says through wheezing breaths.

My heartbeat slams against my ribs. My mind isn’t processing what is happening. I feel as if I’ve floated out of my body and I’m watching from far away. Callum was dying and Blake kissed me and now they are fighting. “Why on earth would I help—?”

My gaze snaps back to Callum’s face, and the wolf that is now glaring behind his eyes. The wolf that is fighting both Blake and the wolfsbane.

“Aurora,” Blake chokes.

I crash back into my body.

“Callum,” I say.

Despite the fury etched into every muscle of his body, his gaze snaps to mine. The distraction is enough for Blake to slam him onto his back. Callum groans, resting his head on the floorboards, the fight draining from his body.

“Fuck,” he moans.

“I know, I know,” Blake soothes. Blood is dripping from his nose, and it glints in the morning light.

“One of these days, Blake,” Callum murmurs.

“Yes. Yes. I’m sure you’ll try to kill me.”

Blake pushes himself to his knees. Callum grabs his wrist before he can get up fully. “Why?”

A sly smile spreads across Blake’s face. “Because I need you alive.”

He lightly slaps him on the cheek a couple of times. Then he gets up and walks to the door.

“Don’t ever touch her again,” says Callum.

Blake glances over his shoulder at me. His expression is cold. A mirror of my own expression, I’m sure. He turns swiftly away and disappears into the corridor.

“Princess? Are you alright?”

My gaze snaps to Callum and my eyebrows raise with a thousand questions. “You’re asking me that?”

He offers me a soft smile as I crash to my knees beside him.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Forty-Two

I press my forehead against Callum’s, and let his heat envelope me.

My eyes burn. I cannot bear the thought of him being taken from me.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” I whisper, my throat thick.

He puts his hand on my cheek, his palm rough and firm. “I’m okay.”

“You weren’t waking up. I thought. . . I thought. . .”

“I’m right here.” His tone is gentle; there’s a hint of amusement there too.

“What’s so funny?” My breath mingles with his.

“If I’d known getting injured would cause you to be so nice to me, I’d have done it sooner.”

I pull back slightly, and frown. “Don’t say that.”

His skin is pale and he’s coated in a layer of sweat and grime. I can smell the battle on him—blood and earth and steel. But his scent of the mountains seeps through and warms me with its familiarity. Black veins spread from the wound in his shoulder. They are fainter than before, but he must be in pain.

The wolf has gone from his eyes, and it is the man who now watches me.

“I thought of you every hour I was away,” he says. “All I could think of was getting back to you. I shouldn’t have left you. I won’t do it again.”

My throat thickens. I try to harden my heart. I try to freeze the warmth that spreads through my veins. Because it’s not true.

He will trade me for the Heart of the Moon to save his people, and soon this will be over.

“You will,” I whisper.

His jaw hardens. “No.” His voice is rough and raw. “No. I won’t.”

I touch his face, my fingertips brushing over his stubble. “Callum, you brought me here for a reason. And now the Wolf King has returned—”

“I will find another way.”

“Callum—”

He slides his hand to the back of my neck and pulls my forehead to his. “I will find another way.”

His breath is hot on my skin, and my blood heats up. Our lips are almost touching. I long to sink further into his warmth, to take comfort in it. Even though it would be foolish. Even though it would destroy this wavering barrier between us and leave me open to all the pain that is yet to come.

He gently strokes the back of my neck, and my eyelids close.

It makes me feel safe, and warm, and cared for.

I wonder, when I am sent back home, whether I will ever feel this way again—whether I will ever feel anything again.

Without thinking, I kiss him.

He groans softly as he parts his lips. It makes me want to climb on top of him. I want to be closer to him in any way that I can.

But he is injured, and I know how much it will hurt if I succumb to these feelings completely.

I pull away.

“You’re not going back to him.” His tone is so steady and strong that I almost believe him.

He tugs me back down, and I nestle my head against his good shoulder. He sighs, and his breathing and heartbeat become steadier as the minutes pass by.

“Princess, will you do me a favor?”

“Yes,” I say—surprising myself with how quickly I agree.

“Will you take Blake’s collar off now?”

I jolt upright and he watches me with sleepy eyes.

“Goddess! I forgot I was wearing it.” I pull it off, and toss it to the other side of his chambers. It hits the foot of his armchair by the window.

Shame surges through me as I recall the argument I had with Callum before I knew he was injured. I wanted to provoke him. I feel worse when I think of the things Blake said about me, what he did to me. He kissed me.

“I didn’t choose him over you, Callum. I would never do that. Isla—”

I turn back to him, but his eyes are closed. There’s a soft, satisfied smile on his face and his bare chest moves up and down steadily. “Mm?”

“I’ll tell you later.” I put his arm around my neck. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

I try to nudge him to his feet, but I think I’d have more luck trying to pick up one of the mountains outside. So I nestle beside him on the floorboards, and let his warmth cocoon me.

His arm tightens around my shoulder, pulling me close, and he sighs again.

Soon his gentle snores fill his chambers.

***

It is late at night when Callum and I sit on his bed, leaning against the headboard, eating bread and cheese that one of the servants brought us. They helped me change the bedding while he slept, too, so his quilt is no longer stained with blood.

The change in him is evident, even in the flickering candlelight. He slept all day. Color has come back to his cheeks and his eyes are bright. He no longer smells like a battlefield after I helped him wash the grime from his skin, and his wound is almost completely healed.

He’s changed from his battle-worn kilt into his loose-fitting cotton breeches, and rests his forearms against his knees. He gave me a shirt to wear too, because my dress was covered in his blood and I didn’t want to leave him to change in my chambers.

I sit with my knees close to my chest, the material pulled down to my calves. It is revealing and feels intimate to be wearing his clothes. It smells like him too, and I can barely concentrate as I tell him what happened while he was away.

He is listening attentively, though, and his gaze darkens when I tell him I suspect Isla stole his collar from me.

“Are you sure it was her?” he asks.

I snap my head toward him. “Yes.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Princess. I’m just surprised, I suppose. I knew the lass had a wee crush on me, but to defy her alpha like that. . .” His eyebrows knit together. “She gave you the note, though?”

“What note?”

“The note I—” Understanding dawns on his face. He drops his chunk of bread onto the plate, and rubs his face with both hands. “Fuck. No wonder you were so angry with me.”

“You wrote me a note? Before you left.”

“I’d never have left without saying anything at all.” His jawline hardens. “I’ll be speaking with Isla about this. I promise you, Princess. She won’t bother you again.”

I roll my eyes. “I can handle Isla.”

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 I was 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 I was 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.

OceanofPDF.com

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.”

“Gentlemen kiss their ladies.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes. There is a moment in the wedding ceremony where the groom kisses the bride.”

His eyes glint with mischief. “Hm. It seems I’m not quite as well versed in the ways of gentlemen as you, Princess. You’ll have to teach me. Do gentlemen kiss their ladies like this?”

He brushes his lips against mine. The kiss is gentle. Chaste. Frustrating. I want to buck against him—grab his hair, pull him closer to me. But my arms are pinned by my sides by his body, which holds me in place.

“Yes! And I told you to stop being a gentlemen, damn it!”

His grin widens, becomes wolfish.

“How will I know how not to act like a gentlemen, if I don’t know how they behave in the first place?” His tone is teasing, his demeanor calm. It frustrates me even further. He knows he has total control here. And what’s more, he is enjoying it.

“Do they kiss like this?” he asks.

He lowers his mouth to mine. This time, his kiss is deep. Rough. Claiming. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. There is only him, his mouth, his tongue moving in deep dominant strokes against mine, his groan that rumbles through my body and makes me quiver.

My hips move of their own accord, pushing my center against his bare torso, desperate for the friction.

I whimper when he pulls away, his breath still mingling with mine.

“Well?” he asks, his voice low and rough. The wolf flickers behind his eyes, fighting with the mischief that glimmers there.

“No.” The word escapes on a breath. “They don’t kiss like that.”

“Hm. Interesting. How about this?”

He shifts, moving down my body so he hovers over my chest. Eyes on mine, he lowers his mouth to where my nipple is peaked, visible through the thin material of his shirt. He clamps his lips around it and he sucks hard.

I cry out as my back arches from the mattress.

It should hurt, yet I thread my fingers into his hair and pull him closer as he gives my other nipple the same rough treatment. He chuckles, then moves his hand to my breast, squeezing and rubbing as he sucks—causing raw liquid heat to pool at my core.

I moan as the ache builds. My hips buck, and I cry out in frustration. His eyes are still on mine, even as he brushes his teeth against my breast and gently bites.

I gasp. “Callum!”

He lifts an eyebrow, then carefully, lazily, detaches himself. He doesn’t stop palming my breast. I arch into his hand, wanting to curse the material between us. His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed. He is not as in control as he is implying.

“I asked you a question, Princess,” he says. “And until we get to the bottom of it, I’m not going to be able to move on to my next lesson.”

He pinches my nipple between his finger and thumb and an almost feral sound escapes my lips. The wolf becomes dominant in his eyes in answer to my call, before he pushes it back.

“No. That’s not very gentlemanly at all!” I gasp.

His grin widens. “No? Good. Because, there’s another place I’ve imagined kissing you for weeks now. You’ll have to let me know whether it’s gentlemanly or not.”

There’s a question in his eyes. My breathing is fast as I nod, my head brushing against the pillow.

I watch, entranced, as he lowers himself further down the bed. He pushes himself up, and kneels between my legs. His gaze sweeps up and down my body and his face darkens.

He is a vision of power and dominance. For a moment, he reminds me of a statue of a warrior—impenetrable, his expression serious. Only his chest moves up and down, deeply.

There is the same intent on his face as there was when I first saw him in that fighting ring.

Slowly, he slides his hands up my hips, hitching up the shirt and exposing my midriff and my underwear. I feel all of his attention hone in on the place between my legs that throbs with need. A low, almost inaudible growl builds in his chest, before his gaze moves back to mine.

My breathing is fast. I am completely at his mercy, and I do not know what he is going to do next. I am captivated. I cannot move. Cannot think. Not beyond the restlessness that builds like a storm in my chest, and the fire in my veins, and the ache that consumes me.

He shifts, and plants a soft kiss on my torso. The feel of his mouth and his stubble against my bare skin is almost too much to bear, and I whimper.

Then he lowers himself even further and my breathing becomes frantic.

He plants a kiss on my most intimate place, and I cry out as a jolt of pleasure surges through my body. He glances up at me, his mouth inches away from my core. His breath is warm through my underwear.

I should be pushing him away. I should not be so exposed, so brazen, so wanton with a man. Is this the kind of thing that happens in a brothel? I do not know. This is certainly not the way that a lady is supposed to behave. Least of all a princess.

Yet I lie there, my legs parted.

He cocks an eyebrow—and I know the question he is asking is not just part of his game. He is asking permission. If I play along, he will take this even further. How far, I do not know.

All I can think of is more.

“No,” I whimper. “Gentleman do not do that.”

He smiles, but his eyes darken. He slides down my underwear and tosses it aside, and my heartbeat hammers in my chest as he exposes me fully to him. His breathing becomes ragged, his shoulders hardening.

“Fuck. You’re beautiful,” he mutters, as he looks at me where no man has ever looked at me before. His eyes lift to mine once more. “Do they do this?”

He lowers his head and lightly kisses the sensitive bundle of nerves. I cry out as heat and surprise surge through my veins. Before I can process what he has just done, his mouth is on me, fully, completely. Hot and wet and hungry. He devours me. My back arches. My hips buck, and he grabs them, growling like a wild animal being disturbed from his prey, as he plants them firmly against the mattress.

He slides his tongue along my center, and I moan. I have never felt anything like it. He flicks, and licks, and sucks as though he cannot get enough of me, and the storm inside me becomes frantic. I want to lose myself to it. To this feeling. To him.

I reach for him, threading my fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth closer to me. I rock, shamelessly, against his face. He growls, sliding his hand up the shirt to roughly palm my breast.

“Fuck,” he groans against me, and I shiver.

I do not feel like a human or a princess. I feel primal. That wildness builds with each lap of his tongue, each squeeze of my breast, each time he rubs my nipple with his thumb. I am writhing beneath him, my legs spread fully for him, my fingers clenched in his hair.

He moves his hand away, and I’m about to protest when he slides a finger inside me.

I cry out at the pressure of it, at the friction. He moves his hand at the same pace as his tongue—deep and fast and rough. It builds, and I rock harder, needing more. Needing him.

He groans, the noise vibrating through me, then he slides in another finger, spreading me wider, opening me up even more to him. It is too much to bear.

“Callum. . . I’m going to. . . It feels. . . I. . .”

I cry out, my breathing fast, as release crashes over me, through me. The world blurs. There is only this feeling, wild and raw, pumping through my veins. I feel like the wind that tears through the Northlands, and the animals that rage through the forests. He growls, his mouth clamping over the bundle of nerves, tasting me as I come undone beneath him.

When I finally settle back into my body, I’m panting, splayed out on the bed.

Callum kisses me gently between my legs, his eyes on mine—the wolf is prominent behind them. When he pulls away, his lips are moist. He drags his teeth over them, a low growl scraping against his throat. He climbs back over me, and gently kisses my mouth.

I moan against his lips, brushing my fingertips down the side of his face.

I am aware of his hard length, pressing against my bare thigh.

I should feel embarrassed, yet I do not think I have ever felt so relaxed in all of my life.

He looks down at me, and smiles softly.

“Well?” he asks, mischief in his expression. “Does a gentleman do that?”

OceanofPDF.com