The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

It takes everything in me not to crumple into a pile on Callum’s floor.

“A feast?”

Back home, I’d relish the idea of going to a feast.

The balls, the gatherings, the summer festivals—I lived for those events. As stifling as they could be, they were the only times when my father saw me as useful—even if I was just a prop to him, or a trophy to dangle in front of visiting kingdoms.

But I have been riding for two days, and I haven’t bathed properly, and I don’t have my clothes or my servants or my make-up.

I shake my head. “No. I’m not in the mood for a feast. I will retire early tonight, and you can speak to Blake alone.”

Callum sighs. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He nods at the big four-poster bed to my side and my cheeks heat. I’m an unmarried woman. He can’t possibly expect me to sit on his bed.

“I would rather stand.”

“I’m not leaving you alone. You’re coming with me.”

“No.”

He arches an eyebrow. “No?”

This man is a mountain, and he’s used to getting his own way. There is only one card I can play to get the upper hand here.

“If you drag me into your Great Hall, I will tell everyone who I am!” I fold my arms. “It will cause carnage. And what will you do then?”

“That would end worse for you than it would for me, Princess,” says Callum. “Believe me.”

“So you’re not going to protect me?”

“Oh, I would protect you from the Wolves outside these doors. But if you’re going to do something reckless, it’s me you’ll have to contend with.”

I feel as if he’s just doused me with cold water. “You’re threatening me?”

“Aye,” he says. Though I’ve seen him threaten people before—with his muscles hard, and his posture dominant—and he doesn’t look like that now. He looks relaxed, his expression soft, a playful glint in his green eyes.

“Is that how you became the big, strong alpha?” I demand. “Threatening women you kidnapped?”

“Not quite.”

I fight the urge to ask him how he became an alpha, pushing down the intrigue that blooms inside my chest at how this infernal Kingdom of Wolves actually works. Now is not the time.

“Well, what are you going to do to me?” I ask.

The armchair creaks as he leans forward, and his heat and scent wash over me. “I’d start by telling everybody about our secret.”

“What secret?”

“About our. . . sleeping arrangement last night.” He clucks his tongue. “What will people think? A princess and a wolf. The scandal!”

My cheeks heat, and a feral sound escapes my lips.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

“What kind of gentleman are you?” I demand.

“I’m not a gentleman, remember? I’m a wolf.” The amusement doesn’t leave his expression as he nods at the bed. “Sit down.”

“No.”

He rises from his seat, and his body swamps mine. I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “You must be tired,” he says.

He steps forward and his chest bumps into mine. I stumble onto the bed, quickly pushing myself upright. My hands sink into the soft downy quilt.

His chest is right in front of my face. One of his buttons must have torn off in the siege, and I catch a glimpse of the skin and toned muscle beneath his shirt.

I swallow.

“Is this how you get your way? By pushing people around?” I ask.

“It’s one of my methods of persuasion, aye.” He crouches in front of me, placing one of his knees on the tartan rug. “I don’t usually have to work so hard to get someone to do something. You’re very stubborn, aren’t you?”

He puts a hand on my thigh, and all the muscles in my body clench.

He quickly removes it.

“Come with me.” He sighs. “Please. This is my fault. I put you into this situation. Let me fix this.”

There is something so earnest in his eyes, so. . . lonely. . . that I fight the urge to touch his cheek.

Despite his infuriating arrogance, I can tell this is a man who feels the weight of his responsibilities and decisions. This is a man who bears that weight so others don’t have to.

Something softens inside me, and vulnerability flickers in his eyes as if he senses it.

I sigh.

I’d rather speak with Blake in different circumstances. If I was feeling rested and sharp, I’d be more confident I could gain the upper hand. But I cannot deny that I am curious about the dark-haired wolf with the Southlands accent.

I’m sure my father would be interested to know about a wolf who claims to have served in his guard, too.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll come to your feast. But I need to wash first.”

Callum smiles. When he steps away, the air feels lighter and I can breathe again.

He nods at the copper bathtub behind him. “Take it. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be outside.” He leans against the doorframe. “Unless you’d like me to help you with your bath?”

I make a strangled sound at the thought of being naked in front of Callum with his hands on me. “How can you say such things?”

“What? It was a genuine offer!”

“No it wasn’t! You’re trying to annoy me.”

He grins. “Maybe a wee bit. You’re cute when you blush.”

My cheeks flame and I hate myself for it. “Brute!”

He chuckles as he steps into the corridor.

“We have a few hours until we’ll need to head to the Great Hall,” he says over his shoulder. “Wash and get some rest. You’ll need your strength. Feasts here. . .” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, his eyes glinting. “Well, let’s just say they can get lively.”

And with those ominous words, he shuts the door behind him.