His face falls. “Aye. I should’ve done that. I’m sorry. . . I truly am.” The sight of a big bloodthirsty warrior sheepishly apologizing causes a strange feeling of power to surge through me. Until he steps forward. “Now, if you’ll just let me take a look—”

“No.”

“Let me see!”

“If you come any closer, I will. . . I will take my leave of you!”

He stills and I think I’ve won, but the corner of his lip twitches. Slowly, he raises his hands.

“Okay.” His tone is placating, at odds with his large physique. “Okay. At least sit down. I’ll water the horse, light us a fire. Okay?”

He leads the horse down to the loch.

I shiver, and pull my furs closer. It is never this cold in the King’s City.

There’s a copse of fir trees nearby, so while he’s fussing with the horse, I select some dry twigs and branches, and a flint rock. By the time he returns with a flask, I’m sitting and warming my hands by a small fire. The crackle of flames adds to the sound of the wind and the water.

He looks at me curiously.

“I didn’t think you’d know how to do that,” he says.

I tuck my knees beneath my chin, basking in the heat that washes over my face. “Do you know a lot about princesses, wolf?”

“It seems not.” He sits down beside me, and nods at the flames. “Did your father teach you?”

He sounds skeptical, and he’s right to be. The only thing my father taught me was how to act like a lady so that he could parade me around in front of suitors.

“My mother.” I chew my bottom lip. I’m unused to people asking me questions about myself, and it feels strange. “She was from the Snowlands, originally.”

“Ah, well, I hear it’s pretty cold over there.”

“Yes.” I pull the cloak closer around me. “The clue is in the name.”

The alpha laughs, a soft, surprised sound. “Aye. That it is.” He hands me his flask. “If you won’t let me tend to it, at least clean your cut. I don’t want to have to take you to the healer when we get to the castle.”

I pick up on the darkness in his tone. “You don’t like healers?” I wash the blood off my sole. There’s barely a scratch there and I’ve always healed quickly. It should be fine in a couple of days.

“This particular healer is an obnoxious prick who I’d rather we avoid.”

The shadows curl around us, and my breath mists in front of my face. I nod at his pack. “Shouldn’t you be putting up the tent?”

“The tent?”

“I thought we were staying until morning. Where am I going to sleep?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “You can check for a four-poster bed in there if you like, Princess. But I’m pretty sure I forgot to pack it.”

“You want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Aye.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

His eyebrows dip in confusion, before he nods at the ground.

“You’re going to lie down beside me as if you were. . . as if you were my husband?”

“Well. . . not exactly like that, no.” There’s a wicked glint in his eye and I flush. “Now, behave yourself and lie down. You’ll catch your death of cold if I move away.” He lies on his back, clasping his hands behind his head. “I know, it’s scandalous. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

When he winks, I huff and lie on my side, turning away from him.

The grass is surprisingly soft. I’m not sure if it’s because the mountains block the wind, or if it’s the alpha’s strange body heat—but some of the stiffness in my body eases.

“What is your name?” I ask, suddenly.

“Callum.” His voice is soft, and lilts slightly, as though he’s surprised I asked.

“Callum?”

“Aye.” He sounds amused. “Is there something wrong with my name?”

“No. . . I. . .” I glance at him over my shoulder. I take in his hard jaw covered in stubble, his wild hair, and his large biceps, bulging against his sleeves. “I expected you to have a more. . . brutish name. The name Callum makes me think of a mischievous young boy.”

He chuckles. “Believe it or not, I was a mischievous wee lad once.” His eyes glint playfully in the firelight and I can almost imagine it.

It warms something inside me, and I look away before he catches me smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Callum. I’m—”

“Your name is Rory,” he says, and I bristle. Nobody calls me that, and it’s far too familiar for a wolf who has stolen me from my bed.

“I’m Princess Aurora.”

He merely chuckles.

Before long, all I can hear is the crackle of the fire and Callum’s breathing.

I don’t know how I’m going to sleep under these conditions.

I’ve been taken by the Wolves. Tomorrow, I’ll be presented to the mysterious Wolf King. And right now, I’m lying beside a man who is not my husband.

I gasp as the realization of where I should be right now crashes over me.

Callum stiffens. “Princess?”

I roll onto my back. “I was supposed to marry Sebastian tonight. I should. . . I should be his wife right now.”

Callum turns his head to the side. “Aye.”

A warmth builds inside me. I don’t hide the slow smile that spreads across my face as I turn my gaze to the infinite sky.

I feel Callum’s eyes on me for a moment longer, before he too looks toward the stars.

“I told you he wouldn’t touch you,” he says.

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Chapter Ten

I’m warm. Hot, even.

My eyelids are heavy and when I open them, pink sunlight floods my vision.

Strange dreams of large Wolves and moonlit woods ebb away, leaving me confused. I’m not in my bed. Grass tickles my cheek, and the air is crisp. My nightdress is damp with dew, and a chorus of birds and wind and rippling water resounds around me.

There’s another sound, too; low, steady breathing.

Something heavy presses down on my waist.

My eyes widen as it all comes back to me.

The alpha, the siege, and being taken from my homeland.

What’s more, Callum has me tucked against his chest. He must have pulled me to him while he slept. I must have let him. Goddess!

I try to shuffle away, but a soft snarl vibrates in his throat. My pulse quickens as I push at his heavy forearm. This time, his growl is low and dangerous. His fingers are splayed across my torso, holding me to him.

My breath hitches.

I have never been this close to a man before.

I glance over my shoulder. Despite his threatening sounds, his eyes are closed and his face is soft with sleep.

I slap his arm. “Get off me, you big oaf! Get off!”

He groans, then rolls onto his back.

“Good morning to you, too, Princess.” His voice is rough as he opens his eyes.

My cheeks are flaming, but he doesn’t seem embarrassed. I wonder if he’s used to waking up beside women he has just met. He’s handsome, I suppose, in a bloodthirsty warrior kind of way.

I sit up, pulling my fur cloak closer to me to shield me from the cold.

I focus on the mountains that surround us instead of the crease on the side of Callum’s face where the grass has left a mark, or the soft smile playing on his lips.

As well as illuminating the rugged scenery, the dawn exposes me.

Usually, in the morning, I would bathe, and my hair would be brushed and styled on top of my head. I’d be presented with pretty dresses, and ladies-in-waiting would fuss over me—cinching in my waist, and concealing my flaws.

I would sit in front of the mirror for hours, sometimes, tinting my lips and hiding the shadows beneath my eyes. I was supposed to be perfect before anyone saw me.

Away from all that oppressive finery, I feel naked.

My mouth tastes bad, and my eyelids are puffy, and my muscles ache. I know my skin will be unnaturally pale.