He smells like the outdoors, like the Northlands winds have clung to his skin and his clothing—but there’s heat beneath it. Like spice and woodsmoke. And he’s warm. So warm. How can a male radiate such heat?

His face tilts up, and candlelight flickers across his closed eyelids. The movement exposes his throat to me, and I hold the silver blade between us.

I take a shaky breath. “I want to see.”

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

My breath catches in my throat. His irises have expanded and changed shape. They’re still green, but brighter, and within them there are flecks of yellow and gold. His pupils are dilated and they’re as black as the depths of the forest at night.

They’re wolf’s eyes.

They are fascinating.

I have heard many stories about Wolves, but they all depict their brutality and lack of mercy when they raid our villages. I didn’t know their eyes could change when they looked like men, nor look so beautiful.

I touch his cheek. The muscles in his forearms flex as his grip on the mattress tightens.

“It happens when you’re emotional?” I ask. “What emotion are you feeling?”

“The same emotion as you, Princess.”

“I’m not feeling anything.”

He smiles, softly. “You might be able to hide your emotions from Southerners, Princess. You forget that I’m a wolf. I can sense things. Your heartbeat. . . your scent. . .” He swallows, hard. “It changes.”

My fingers inch down the side of his face, touching his rough stubble. “Don’t smell me.”

He laughs and it sounds like a growl. “I can’t help it.”

“I’m not feeling anything.”

“Okay.”

His eyes don’t move from mine. They are wary and alert, but there’s something almost vulnerable dancing around those flecks of gold.

The air feels thick and heady and strange. Static, almost. And tension coils in my lower stomach.

Despite the chill in the room, I am hot.

I have a male in my chambers after nightfall, even though I am betrothed to another. He’s an alpha of an enemy kingdom. He’s plotting against my father.

I know everything about this is wrong, but when his hands shift on the bedsheets, I want him to place them on my hips.

His gaze dips to my mouth, and I forget how to breathe.

I want to brush my lips against his.

I want to know what it’s like to kiss a man. Would Callum be soft and gentle, or hard and claiming? The latter would have scared me a week ago. Now, it heats my blood.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

When he opens them again, he averts his gaze to the floorboards between our feet. My hand drops to my side.

“It’s getting late.” Callum clears his throat. He stands, and I have to step back. “I should go.”

Disappointment carves a hole in my chest. “I thought you were going to stop my arms and legs from aching.”

He gives me a soft smile. “I think you want me to ease a different ache, Princess. And while, under different circumstances, I’d be happy to oblige, under these circumstances, it wouldn’t be right.”

My cheeks flame. “That’s not. . . how dare you suggest. . . I’m the Princess of the Southlands!”

It is strange that even though his eyes look like wolf eyes, I can see the glimmer of amusement in them.

“Nonetheless, I don’t trust myself right now.” He bows his head. “Good night, Princess.”

“Yes, good, you should go,” I say, raising my chin, pretending it was I who dismissed him. “It is late. Good night, Callum.”

He releases a shuddery breath as he exits my chambers.

Part of me wants to chase after Callum, and another wants to keep the door closed and never let him back inside again.

After dropping the letter opener on my bedside table, I sit on my bed and put my head in my hands.

I don’t know what is wrong with me.

I feel like I am playing with fire—and there’s a small dark part of me that wants to get burned.

Later, when I’m in my nightgown and settling down to sleep, I tell myself it was all just a lapse in judgement. I’ve had a long day, and the adrenaline made me want things I have never wanted before. That’s all.

I didn’t really want to kiss him. I didn’t really want him to touch me. That would be wrong. I am an unmarried woman, and that would go against everything I have been taught to believe. It would take me even further away from my duty to my kingdom.

But it occurs to me, in the dark of night, that if Callum did touch me, Sebastian would not want me anymore.

I close my eyes, pushing down the dark thoughts this revelation has created.

When I finally fall asleep, I dream of Callum’s mouth on my skin, his rough hands on my body, his strong arms holding me close to him.

And then I dream of unfamiliar wolf eyes, watching me, from deep within the forest.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

“You look frustrated this morning, Callum,” says Blake at breakfast the next day.

He saunters over to the alpha table and seats himself beside the acting Wolf King.

“Aye, that he does,” says Robert, not bothering to lower his voice. “Something to do with the Southern lass, do you reckon? I wouldn’t be going around looking like I had a stick up my arse if she was wearing my collar.”

He goes on to describe the horrible things he would do to me to relieve his frustration, much to my disgust, while two other Wolves roar with laughter.

Beside me, Callum’s jaw sets.

“What do you reckon, Blake?” asks Robert, realizing that Blake doesn’t seem to be listening.

The dark-haired wolf is sitting with one arm slung over his chair, seemingly staring at the tapestries that depict different stages of the moon hanging from the walls.

Lazily, he turns his head. “About what?”

“The lass!”

I feel Blake’s eyes on me, just for a moment, even though I’m staring down at my porridge. My fist tightens around my spoon.

“She’s adequate, I suppose,” he replies.

I look up just as he grabs an apple and saunters out of the Great Hall.

Robert laughs as he continues his disgusting monologue about me. Rage builds inside my chest.

I wonder if he’d be so amused if I slipped some wolfsbane in his tea.

Callum puts a hand on my leg, and I start.

“I’ll kill him for you, if you like,” he says.

His voice is quiet, but the air feels charged for a moment. A furrow appears in Robert’s brow, so I know he heard him, and Callum smiles at him. Threateningly.

Robert turns away and re-joins the conversation the other men are now having about Blake.

“Does Blake even like the lasses?”

“I think so. I’ve heard some screams coming from his room late at night.”

“Aye, but they’re not the good kind.”

“I’ve heard he has some dark tastes. . . Never wanted to ask.”

I turn back to Callum. “Would you really kill him for me?” I ask.

“Aye. I hope you don’t ask. Because it could cause me some serious problems when the king returns.”

I smile as I go back to my porridge.

I’m less amused when Robert looms over our table twenty minutes later.

“I said you could keep her if she earned her keep,” he says. He walks off before Callum can respond.

“I could get a job in the infirmary,” I say. I don’t want to do anything to appease that horrible wolf, but I must admit, I’m curious. I wonder what I could learn about healing and Wolves if I had the opportunity to do so. “I don’t mind. I have nothing else to do while we wait for your king to return, so I may as well make myself useful.”

Callum’s eyebrows raise, then he shakes his head. “No. I appreciate what you did for Ryan, but I don’t want you alone with Blake.” He gives me an assessing look. “If you truly want a way to pass the time, I may have an idea.”