I don’t know much about Wolves, but these collars are important to the alphas. Blake may be different than the others, but he is an alpha nonetheless.

For a moment, we’re paused in time. Neither of us moves, and the air is heavy and silent.

He slides his feet off the footstool, and rises.

A part of me wants to step back, but I make myself hold my ground. I won’t cower. Not before him.

He surprises me by crouching onto one knee before me. He picks up the collar, then looks up.

His body heat envelopes me, and I catch the scent of dark forests and peppermint tea.

He moistens his lips, and for some reason, what Callum did to me last night crashes into my mind. Followed by one of the horrible things that Blake said. About having me ride his face.

When Blake smirks, I realize that was exactly his intention.

I have had many things to be angry about. My father, selling me off to the highest bidder. My mother dying. My brother’s cold indifference. The High Priest’s cruelty. It is now that wild fire spreads through my veins. And when Blake slowly rises to his full height, I slap him across the face with all the strength I have.

The crack echoes around his chambers as his head jerks to one side.

I pull back, stunned, my heartbeat the only thing I can hear, my palm stinging. I cannot believe I just did that. I have never hit anyone in all my twenty years of life. Princesses don’t hit people.

They especially don’t hit Wolves. Or alphas. Or alpha Wolves that other alphas seem to fear.

Callum described Blake as the most dangerous male in the Kingdom of Wolves, and I just slapped him. Goddess!

As the mists of rage and confusion ebb away, I notice Blake is smiling. His cheek is bright red and his eyes dance.

“The rabbit has grown some claws,” he says.

“Don’t touch me again.”

“Likewise.” He walks back across the room, tossing the collar on the table, before dropping into his armchair. “Out of interest, what will you do if I touch you again?” He arches an eyebrow. “Put buckthorn in my tea?”

I narrow my eyes. “Wolfsbane.”

He smiles, then leans back in his seat and rests his ankle on his knee. He grabs his book and starts reading, as if he’s finished with me, as if I’m no threat.

I decide he is not worth any more of my time. I have more important things to worry about. I turn on my heel and stride back to the door.

“Aurora,” says Blake.

“What?”

“You’re not planning on meeting the Wolf King dressed like that, are you?”

Don’t bite. Don’t bite. Don’t—

“What’s wrong with this dress?” I ask, turning back around.

“You look like a pretty little doll.” The way he says it doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Perhaps that’s the point.”

“This is not the kingdom of men.”

“Meaning?”

“Do you want to face the Wolf King as a queen or a doll?”

“I’m not a queen.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Are you a doll?”

“I’ll be either if it gets me out of this alive.”

He smirks. “James likes his women bold.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Probably wise. But I’m not lying.”

I scowl as I head out his chambers.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’d gone to Blake’s chambers to release some of this pent-up fury. If anything, I now feel even more unsettled. My mind is reeling as I navigate the stone corridors, and make my way back to Callum’s room.

Is Blake lying to make a fool out of me? Or was his advice supposed to help me? I cannot figure it out. What should I do? How should I navigate this dark and treacherous forest when it is the big bad wolf that gives me directions?

Callum is still staring out of the window when I arrive. He looks up as I enter, and concern flashes in his eyes.

“Are you okay, Princess?” His expression darkens. “Did Blake upset you?”

“I. . . no. . .” I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He swallows, then nods—exhaling before turning back to the mountains. “Good.”

“You regret it, don’t you?” I try to sound confident, as if it doesn’t bother me that he’s acting distant after what happened last night, but my voice wavers slightly.

He turns back to me, his eyebrows lifting. His expression softens. He walks toward me, swamping me with his huge frame. I step back, and he steers me to the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, I sit down.

He crouches down between my legs and places his hands on my hips. His face is more serious than I’ve ever seen it.

“No,” he says. “Never. In another life, in another situation, we’d have spent this morning in bed with me between your thighs.” The corner of his lip lifts as my cheeks flame. “But due to the current situation we’re in, I admit, I’m a wee bit. . . troubled this morning.”

Some of the anxiety building in my chest diminishes, only to be replaced by a greater worry. “So you are worried about the king.”

He sighs. “There is a chance he may not be best pleased about. . . how protective I have become of you.”

Something warms inside my chest at the sincerity in his expression. “You don’t need to tell him.”

“He’ll know.”

“How?”

“My scent is all over you.”

Heat floods my face, and the reason Blake knew something had happened between us becomes evident. A part of me wonders if that is the reason Callum was happy for me to visit Blake in the first place.

“Oh. I should wash, then.”

“Ah, you see, that’s what’s troubling me. I want you to smell like me. I like it. I want every wolf to know, James included.”

I fold my arms. “That doesn’t sound sensible.”

He grins. “Aye, well I never said I was sensible. Besides, there’s no time now for a bath. Not unless you want to go for a swim in the loch.”

He raises his eyebrows, and I smile—remembering how cold the water was when I washed at Glen Marb. From the grin on his face, I think he is remembering it too.

He sighs, his breath misting in front of his face.

“We should go.”

He brushes his lips against my forehead, and my hands reflexively move to chest, my fingers gripping his shirt. He’s so firm and solid beneath it and I want to take comfort in that strength—to take comfort in him. His hands momentarily tighten around my hips.

Heat flares inside me, despite the words he mumbles against my skin. “It’s time to meet the Wolf King.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Forty-Six

The castle corridors outside Callum’s chambers seem colder, the shadows longer. The torches on the wall flicker as we pass, as if possessed by the same nervous energy that builds in my stomach.

When I descended the kennel steps that night in Sebastian’s castle, I felt as if I was walking into the jaws of a great beast.

Now, it has swallowed me.

When I meet with the Wolf King, I will find out whether it is to chew me up and spit me back out again.

Or worse.

Callum walks by my side, his hand pressed against the small of my back. The warmth he radiates is of little comfort. Not when he is uncharacteristically quiet. His heavy footsteps echo off the stone walls, steady and slow, as though he is delaying the inevitable.

As we reach the stairwell, loud voices pierce the gloom from the lower floors of the castle. Some agitated, some excitable, some tainted with anger. It reminds me of the noise one hears on the day of an execution in the King’s City.

Perhaps there will be an execution today.

And yet, all I can think about is the dress I am wearing. It’s white and long-sleeved.

The perfect doll—that is what Blake said I looked like.

I’ve had little choice over so many things in my life—who I’d marry, where I’d live, what my purpose should be. But my clothing—the way I present myself—that was a choice I always had.