Текст книги "The wolf king"

Автор книги: Lauren Palphreyman

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Forty-Nine

For a moment I am speechless.

My gaze travels up his black shirt, now buttoned up to the collar, and lands on his face. I cannot read his expression. He seems serious, yet his eyes glint in the torchlight as though they hold a thousand secrets.

The dancefloor blurs behind him as people slow their steps to the new melody that’s playing. Where have I heard this song before?

“You want to dance with me?” I ask.

“Yes.”

A giggle escapes my lips, and Blake tilts his head to the side—the movement almost catlike. “Does that amuse you, little rabbit?”

I lean back against the table and take a sip from my beaker—welcoming the coldness of the water as it travels down my throat. I am hot. Too hot. And my mind feels fuzzy from all the whisky.

Blake tracks my every movement as I brush a strand of hair out of my face.

“Do you think me a fool, Blake?”

“On the contrary. Dance with me.”

“If you mean to provoke Callum, he’s otherwise engaged.” I put down my beaker and raise an eyebrow. “You’re wasting your time.”

He smiles, dimples puncturing his cheeks. I could almost forget that he is a manipulative snake when he looks at me like that.

“I am not trying to provoke your master, little rabbit. That would be a waste of my time.”

“What are you trying to do, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I frown. “Callum is not my master.”

“Prove it.” He glances at his hand, still outstretched. “Dance with me.”

The shadows in the Great Hall seem to gravitate toward him as the candles flicker, as though attracted to whatever darkness resides in his soul.

I laugh and shake my head. “Do you truly think me so easily manipulated?”

He smirks. “Oh, darling, I know exactly how to manipulate you.”

“I’m not dancing with you, am I?”

“No. But you will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He steps forward, and places both hands on the table on either side of me. I breathe in sharply, inhaling his scent of the forest at night, as he dips his mouth to my ear.

“Because I’m playing a game, little rabbit.” His warm breath tickles my cheek. “And a part of you wants to play too—just to see if you can beat me.”

He turns his face toward mine, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

Then he steps back and I can breathe again.

“Why would I play a game with you when I am at a disadvantage?” I say. “I do not know the rules, nor the prize.”

“No. But don’t you want to find out?”

He holds out his hand.

My mother used to tell me stories about Night—the deity who holds the keys to the Moon Goddess’s prison. He tempts mortals into making deals with him, offering them what they desire in exchange for their souls.

Blake reminds me of him right now. Dangerous and strange with eyes gleaming with dark promises.

And I hate that I am tempted. Because he is right; I do want to find out what he is scheming.

Yet if I dance with him, what part of my soul will he claim?

He raises an eyebrow.

I raise my chin.

Perhaps the warm, smoky alcohol I have consumed is giving me false confidence, but I do not think that Blake is as smart as he thinks he is.

I place my hand in his.

A slow smile spreads across his face as his fingers curl around mine. He leads me to the dancefloor.

He raises our joined hands, and places his other on my waist.

“Do you know the Dance of the Dawn?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“This music follows the same rhythm.”

He pulls me closer, and I place a hand on his shoulder. “You wish to perform a Southlands dance in a hall full of northerners?”

“We are both Southlanders, are we not?”

“Is that the game? You wish to antagonize everyone here?”

“Let’s play and find out, shall we?”

I incline my head. “Very well.”

I step back and he releases me.

I curtsy and he bows, as is tradition, and then we dance.

We step forward, raising our hands, palms almost touching, as we circle one another. We change direction—our gazes locked, our steps careful. Graceful. Wary. Blake’s eyes track my every movement as though he is a predator, hunting his prey.

I think that people are watching us, but it would be unwise to look away from the wolf before me.

As the dance progresses, it requires closer contact. Blake’s hand curls around mine once more, his other flattening on the small of my back as he spins us around. My hand rests gently on his shoulder, and I fight the urge to sink my fingers into the hard muscle as he moves us faster and faster.

His steps are graceful, his poise strong and confident. He is a good dancer. Too good.

“You said you were part of the King’s Guard,” I say.

“I did.”

“I did not know that members of the King’s Guard had cause to learn to dance.” I lift an eyebrow. “Certainly not this well.”

He smirks as we continue our dance around the edge of the dancefloor. “You think I dance well? I should be flattered by such a compliment coming from the princess herself.”

“I think you’re a liar. You were not part of the King’s Guard, were you? You’re a man of noble birth. There is no other explanation for why you can dance.”

He spins me under his arm, and I inhale sharply as he pulls me back again. “Interesting theory, little rabbit. I assure you, I was in the King’s Guard, I am not a man of noble birth, and there is another explanation.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Nor should you.”

“Tell me the explanation.”

“I already have. In a way.”

“Stop speaking in riddles. Tell me what I want to know.” I raise my chin. “Or I will tell everyone your secret.” I smile sweetly. “I think there may be a storm coming.”

I expect him to blanch, for his shoulder to tense beneath my fingers. Instead he smiles, pulling me closer.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “My account of what you were doing in my chambers late at night will be quite different to yours, I assure you.” His tone is as dark and seductive as the night sky.

The heat drains from my body as we continue to circle the dancefloor. My pulse pounds so hard in my ears that it almost drowns out the sound that has chilled me to my core. I’m still dancing, but my movements no longer feel like my own. Everything blurs. It is Blake who is leading me, like a puppet master, commanding his toy.

The music has reached its crescendo, and the reason why it seemed familiar to me is now clear. I recognize this part of the song.

It is the same melody my mother used to sing to me at night.

The same melody I hummed to Blake when he was afraid.

Why would a band of Wolves in the Northlands know the tune my mother loved so dearly?

Blake is watching me curiously, his head tilted slightly to one side.

I narrow my eyes. “What is this?”

“What is what?” His expression of faux innocence is betrayed by the hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Why did you ask them to play this music?”

“It is a well-known wolf melody,” he says, feigning confusion. “About the Elderwolf and his love for the Moon. I thought you might like it. Do you not?”

I try to pull away, but his hand tightens around mine. His slender fingers are like a cold vice. He spins me around. “Do you recognize it?” he asks.

“You know I do. Let me go.”

“That wouldn’t be wise, little rabbit. Everyone is watching us. Including James.”

I look around. People are staring at us curiously from the benches, the alcoves, the sides of the hall. The dancefloor has cleared, leaving us at its center. I do not know when that happened.

The Wolf King is leaning forward in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face.

I search for Callum, seeking a lifeline out of this situation, but he must have left the hall to speak with Fiona.

I am truly alone.

My eyes meet Blake’s. “I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

“You should care.”

“Why?”

He moves forward so his cheek almost touches mine, and lowers his voice. “Because you are in danger. Do you truly believe James will let you stay?”

“No. But how does dancing with you help my situation?”

“That is the game, little rabbit. Play with me, and find out.”

I’m about to tell him that I’ll take my chances, when his gaze flits over my shoulder. “Too late.”

He drops my hand just as a wave of warmth washes over me. Before I can turn, I’m scooped up into big strong arms. I breathe in sharply, hooking my hands around Callum’s neck, my eyes widening in surprise as he claims my mouth with his.

It is not a gentle kiss. It is hard and deep and claiming. His tongue moves in strong, dominant strokes against mine. Heat floods through my body, melting the ice, as my grip tightens around his neck. I have to fight the moan that threatens to escape me. Too many people are watching.

The wolf is in his eyes when he pulls back and glares at Blake.

Blake steps back, his eyes dancing with amusement.

I feel both him and the Wolf King watching us as Callum carries me out of the Great Hall.

Callum snaps his fingers at Ryan as we pass. “Ryan, I’m putting the princess to bed. You’ll guard her door while I attend to some business.”

Ryan disentangles himself from his girlfriend, Becky, and grumbles as he follows us through the castle to my bedchambers.

“Put me down,” I hiss as soon as we’re out of earshot of the hall.

“No.”

“I don’t want to go to bed.”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “You’re going to bed. And you’ll stay there until I return.”

“You’re angry with me,” I say as he carries me up the winding staircase to my chambers.

“No.” He doesn’t look at me.

He pushes the door open, then drops me ungracefully on my bed.

“Callum!”

The wolf is in his eyes. He looks like a bloodthirsty warrior. Then he blinks and releases a long breath.

“No.” He shakes his head, suddenly looking weary. “No. I’m not angry with you, Princess.”

I do not believe him. I wonder if it’s because I danced with Blake, or whether something worse is going on. I push myself upright. “What did Fiona want?”

“I’ll tell you shortly.” He runs a hand over his mouth. “I need to go check on something. Stay here.”

Before I can respond, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I hear Ryan grumbling on the other side.

“Oi. That woman in there saved your life. Twice,” Callum growls. “You can go back to smooching with your girlfriend later. But now, you’ll stop being an insolent pup and you’ll do as I say.”

“Sorry,” mutters Ryan.

“Aye. I know. Now, no one goes in, and the princess doesn’t come out. Understood?”

“I can hardly stop her if—”

“You’ll find a way.” Callum sounds uncharacteristically brittle. “I trust you, okay? Don’t let me down.”

“No.” I hear the sudden pride in Ryan’s voice. “I won’t.”

***

I wake with a start.

There’s a hand over my mouth. I struggle with my covers, my legs tangled in my skirts. A face comes into focus in the darkness, and my pulse steadies.

Callum crouches on the floorboards beside my bed.

He puts a finger on his lips, before pulling his palm away.

“Get dressed,” he whispers, nodding at a pile of clothes he’s placed by my feet. “And put on your boots.”

My breathing quickens at the note of urgency in his voice. I cannot help but think of the first time he took me from my chambers. He told me to get dressed, then. I refused to do anything he said.

This time, I comply.

I hurry out of bed, my mind fuzzy from the whisky. My pulse kicks up when I see it is brown breeches and a white shirt that he has selected for me.

I have never worn breeches before. It would be improper. I have always worn pretty dresses.

I swallow. Then I turn, allowing Callum to untie the fastenings of my dress and undo my corset. His gaze burns into my back and he tenses. I suppose with his wolf sight, he can see my scars in the darkness.

I hurriedly pull on my new clothes and boots. When I turn, his jawline is hard. He fastens my cloak around my neck.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

“James,” he says darkly. “I’ll explain when we’re safe. Come.” He holds out his hand. “We’re leaving.”

I save my questions. The worry in his brow, and the shallowness of his breathing, are the only answers I need right now. Whatever Fiona told him, whatever he was checking up on earlier, must be bad.

I take his hand, feeling his comforting warmth as his fingers close around mine.

He leads me out of my chambers. We hurry through the dark labyrinth of the castle. We take the servants’ corridors, avoiding the Great Hall, where the Wolves are still drinking and dancing despite the late hour.

We reach the entrance hall and my heart leaps.

The doors at the other end are already open, the night spilling onto the flagstones. I can taste heather and the mountains on the back of my tongue.

I can taste freedom.

Until Blake saunters across the room, his footsteps echoing around the space. He stops in front of the doorway, blocking our escape.

Callum stills, pushing me behind him.

“Going somewhere?” asks Blake.

His dark hair ripples in the breeze that comes from outside.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” warns Callum, his voice low, almost a growl.

“You won’t hurt me,” says Blake. “Because if we fight, we’ll make noise. And if we make noise, your brother will come looking. I don’t think he’ll be very happy that you’re stealing his bargaining chip for the Heart of the Moon, do you?”

Callum swallows. I’ve never seen him so tense. He looks as if he’s weighing his options, wondering whether he can fight his way out before his brother arrives with backup.

I don’t like our chances. I can hear the music and dancing from here.

I step out from behind him.

“Please, Blake,” I say softly.

Blake’s body is perfectly still for a moment. I cannot read him. I cannot understand what is going on in his mind right now.

Then he inclines his head and steps aside.

Callum releases a breath, then grabs my hand again.

“Run fast, little rabbit,” says Blake as we pass. “The Wolves are coming for you now.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as we step into the courtyard.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He smiles. “The game is far from over.”

A chill ripples through me, but Callum is pulling me across the cobbled stones. We rush to the stables, where Fiona is waiting beside the grey horse we rode here on. There are two bulky bags packed and strapped to the saddle.

“You took your sweet time,” she says, hands on her hips.

She hugs Callum and he pulls her close. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Aye, well, no need to get all emotional about it.” She turns to me. “Good luck, Rory. I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”

I return her smile, despite the worry clenching in my stomach. “I hope so, too.”

Callum helps me onto the horse before mounting behind me.

And then we’re riding out of the castle gates, and across the wild terrain.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask. My voice is almost drowned out by the sound of the hooves thudding against the mud, and the pounding of my heartbeat.

“James sent a messenger to Sebastian. Everything my brother said. . . it was a lie. He means to send you back in exchange for the Heart of the Moon. Sebastian is on his way.”

My stomach drops, and Callum’s arm tightens around my waist.

“He can’t have you.” His voice is hard. Angrier than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m taking you away from all this. I’m taking you to Highfell.” He pulls me closer to him, and his body heat washes over me. “I’m taking you home.”

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Chapter Fifty

We ride for hours.

The night is pitch-black and I cannot see beyond a few inches in front of my face.

At one point, I hear water lapping the pebbled shore of a loch. At another, wind stirs the branches of the trees and I can smell fern and damp earth. Dark shapes loom around us.

All the while, Callum is silent behind me.

His chest is hard against my back, and his thighs are tense as they brush against mine.

I wonder if he feels betrayed by his brother, or whether he feels as if he is betraying his people by taking me away.

Or perhaps it is neither. Perhaps he is angry I danced with Blake.

When Callum took me from the dancefloor, his kiss was hard and dominant. It was as if he was staking his claim. Heat stirs inside me at the memory of his mouth against mine, despite how unnecessary and inappropriate it was to do such a thing in front of so many people.

He must realize he has nothing to worry about as far as Blake is concerned. I do not trust that male in the slightest.

“Are you okay?” I ask. The wind is violent, and my voice is barely audible over the sound of the rustling trees.

“Those scars on your back,” he says softly, surprising me, “how did you get them?”

Memories flood my mind—the stained-glass windows of the Church of Light and Sun, months of sickness and grief, the High Priest and his crop.

I swallow. “It was a long time ago.”

A rough sound vibrates in Callum’s chest. “Was it your father?”

I turn myself to stone. A statue. Something that cannot feel pain.

“If you must know, I was sick, like my mother. The potions they gave me didn’t help. The High Priest said if he. . . cleansed me of my sin, the Goddess would spare me,” I say hurriedly. “And she did.”

His body stills behind me. I’m not sure he’s breathing. “The High Priest beat you?”

“It. . . it was only a few times—”

“Only?!” I flinch at the loudness of Callum’s voice.

“Yes. Only,” I snap. I don’t want his anger. It stirs something ugly inside me that I cannot face. “Now drop it.”

My breathing is fast, and so is his.

Until, finally, I exhale—letting the anger plume in front of my face with my breath. I touch his wrist where it rests in my lap.

“I do not wish to speak of it. Okay?”

A sound rumbles through his chest—a low growl he is clearly trying to suppress. “No one will ever touch you again.”

With the heat and strength of his body cocooning me, I almost believe him.

But Sebastian is riding North to get me, the Wolves are surely on our tail, and Blake’s warning rings in my ears: the game is far from over.

***

We ride throughout the night.

As the sun rises, the valley around us is bathed in orange light. With it, the whisky-induced fuzziness in my head is replaced by monotonous thumping. Every jolt of the horse rattles my brain. The sound of the birds chirping is shrill and irritating. And my mouth tastes horrible.

“How much further is it?” I say. “We’ve been riding for hours.”

He chuckles. “Sore head, Princess?”

“That is neither here nor there.”

“Highfell is a week’s ride away. We’re—”

“A week!”

“Aye.” Amusement laces Callum’s tone. “A week. The Northern Pass is the quickest route to my castle, but also the most well known. That’s the route James’ll use to send his Wolves after us—so we’re taking a slight detour. When they don’t find us in a few days, he’ll call them off, and they’ll go back to fighting the Southlands armies.”

I frown. “That doesn’t sound sensible.”

My mouth is dry and I swallow.

“No?” As if sensing my thirst, Callum reaches down into one of the saddlebags and passes me a flask. I snatch it from him, and greedily gulp it down. “And why is that?”

“James’s men will get to Highfell before us.” I take another sip of water, savoring the freshness that travels down my throat. “They’ll be waiting for us when we arrive and we’ll be captured.”

“If James truly wanted to capture us, then aye, that would be a good plan,” says Callum. “But he doesn’t care about the Heart of the Moon. Not enough. Getting hold of that thing was always a long shot. He won’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

He shifts behind me, running his thumb absently over my thigh.

“No. He won’t bother. He’ll pretend to have you, lure Sebastian out, and put his efforts into killing him. And good riddance to him, too. I only wish I could have been the one to do it.”

Doubt seeps through me as I pass the flask back. “Are you sure? You seem to be putting a lot of trust in a male who just betrayed you.”

Callum takes a sip, then puts the water back in the pack.

“Aye. I know my brother. If we can stay out of his reach for the next couple of days, we can put all of this behind us. I’m certain of it.” He squeezes my leg. “That means we don’t stop to rest until nightfall.”

He chuckles as I groan.

***

It is dark when we finally stop on the shore of a great dark loch.

I sit in front of the fire Callum lit before he led the horse to a copse of trees.

My headache has eased, and though my muscles ache and I’m weary from travelling, my soul feels lighter than it has in days.

It’s peaceful here. It seems as though we are the only souls around.

Perhaps I have finally escaped my fate.

When Callum doesn’t return for twenty minutes or so, though, fear starts to gnaw at me. What is he doing? Has someone found him? Has he grown tired of my foul mood and abandoned me?

I’m about to go look for him when he emerges from the trees carrying some hunks of bread and cheese. The pebbles crunch beneath his boots.

Relief floods me, but is quickly replaced by a strange tension as he passes me the food, then sits on a rock on the other side of the flames. Something shifts in the air.

We eat in silence.

It is as if we both realize we are completely alone for the first time since he took me from Sebastian’s castle.

Something has been growing between us since then. Strong, and pervasive, and passionate. Something we both thought was wrong.

Yet the main reason we have not been fully. . . intimate. . . with one another, is not because I wanted to maintain my honor.

It is because Callum believed I was his prisoner.

Surely, he does not feel that way any longer.

He gives me a soft smile. The firelight dances over his strong features. He takes a deep breath, and I think he’s going to say something, but he sighs and takes another bite of bread.

I offer a small smile back, then go back to my food, even though my insides are clenching.

I wish I was not nervous. I wish I could walk over to him and give him what he wants—like those ladies Sebastian would send to the Wolves. Yet I am lost. Overwhelmed. I do not know what to do, nor what he expects from me.

I swallow the last piece of bread, then brush the crumbs off my breeches. I chew my bottom lip, searching for something—anything—to say to break this never-ending silence.

“This is. . . this is a nice. . . loch,” I say, looking at the black water.

“Aye. That it is.”

Silence falls once more, punctuated only by the crackling flames. I take a deep breath, smelling woodsmoke and damp earth.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Aye.”

“Last night, when you. . . when you kissed me. . . were you angry with me?”

“No.” He smiles sheepishly. “I was jealous.”

I fail to suppress the twitch of my lip.

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I’m pleased to see my inner turmoil amuses you, Princess.”

“You don’t need to be jealous because I danced with Blake.”

“Aye, I know. It’s just. . . seeing you both. . .” He sighs and shakes his head, running his hand over his mouth.

“What?”

“I don’t know. He looked like a Southlands lord, and you his lady. I didn’t like that. Not one little bit. In the real world. . . you and I. . . I’d never stand a chance with you, would I? But him—”

“This is the real world.”

“You know what I mean.” He shakes his head. “And there you go, smiling again.”

“Sorry.” I bite my lip. “It’s just. . . You’re so strong and confident all the time. I suppose it’s reassuring to know you have irrational thoughts like the rest of us.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. “You think that’s irrational?”

“I suppose we would never have been matched by my father. You are from the Northlands. Although if you had worn those awful breeches of yours, and put on a Southlands accent, I’m sure you could have infiltrated the palace. Once we’d met, I would have liked you, I’m certain of it.”

“Oh aye?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps. Though you thought I was a monster when we first met.”

Cold shame spreads through my body. It is hard to believe I could have thought this male, this wolf, was a monster. Perhaps I was a monster, to automatically assume such a thing.

“I know. I’m sorry for that,” I say. “I’ve learned a lot about Wolves since then.”

“Like what?”

“Well. . . I know they like to wander around naked a lot.” Callum laughs. “They’re horribly inappropriate. And they like to sniff people all the time.” He laughs louder. “They’re always fighting and brawling, and they listen to incredibly screechy music despite their very good sense of hearing. And some of them, like humans, are not very pleasant. But some. . . Some are gentle and kind and funny and caring. Some are good men.”

The smile dies from his lips, an intensity crossing his features. The tangle of nerves in my stomach starts to tighten once more.

“And some of them do not know how to behave like gentlemen,” I add, raising my chin.

He laughs, breaking the tense moment. “Aye, that might be true. You know, I’ve learned a lot about princesses these past few weeks, too.”

I give him a hard look. “Like what?”

“They’re very stubborn.” His eyes twinkle as I fold my arms across my chest. “And very fearsome. And very small.” I glare at him and he grins. “They’re a wee bit spoiled.”

“They are not!”

“And intelligent. They can’t handle their whisky. And they pretend to be very chaste and shy, but. . .” He drops his voice to a whisper, as though telling me a secret. “They’re actually very, very demanding.”

My cheeks flame and he laughs, loudly.

“They blush when you say rude things to them. And they’re good, and interesting, and honest, and kind. They hide their emotions, but they feel deeply. Passionately.” His expression becomes serious and my blood heats up. “They care about people more than they will admit. And they’re brave. Braver than any wolf I’ve ever known.”

There’s a tightness in my throat, and I swallow, trying to push it back. I do not know what is wrong with me, it’s just—

“I’ve upset you?” asks Callum, frowning.

The backs of my eyes burn. I sniffle, trying to suppress the feelings that threaten to come. “Some of the things you said were bad.”

“Goddess, I’m sorry, Princess, I—”

“Usually, people say I’m pretty.” My voice is thick.

Callum’s eyebrows raise. “Oh. . . you are. I didn’t mean to offend you by not mentioning—”

“No.” I blink a couple of times. “You don’t understand. That’s usually all they say. And it’s not even me they’re complimenting. It’s a version of me. It’s not real. It’s make-up and dresses and them wanting to get into my father’s good graces.”

I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand. I feel Callum watching me.

“No one. . . no one has ever tried to know me before.” I take a shuddery breath, tasting the woodsmoke that twists in the darkness. His gaze is so fierce that it is hard to hold it. “Not until you.”

His jaw is hard, his posture still. He says nothing for a moment, then removes his arms from his thighs, and sits back.

“Come here,” he says.

My pulse is fast as I get up and walk toward him. His body heat and scent wash over me as he parts his thighs for me to stand between them.

He takes my hand in both of his. “I do want to know you. I want to know everything about you.”

“I want that, too.”

He runs his thumb over my skin and his touch is gentle. He swallows, hard. “You’re not my prisoner anymore.”

“No.” I do not bother to add that I don’t believe I ever really was. I am ensnared, unable to think properly, unable to speak.

There is need in his eyes. Hunger. His chest moves up and down deeply, his breathing as ragged as mine. I feel as if we are on the edge of a storm that is about to break.

He drags his teeth over his bottom lip.

He stands up, his large frame looming over me.

“Come,” he says, his voice gruff. “I want to show you something.”

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