The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

I press my forehead against Callum’s, and let his heat envelope me.

My eyes burn. I cannot bear the thought of him being taken from me.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” I whisper, my throat thick.

He puts his hand on my cheek, his palm rough and firm. “I’m okay.”

“You weren’t waking up. I thought. . . I thought. . .”

“I’m right here.” His tone is gentle; there’s a hint of amusement there too.

“What’s so funny?” My breath mingles with his.

“If I’d known getting injured would cause you to be so nice to me, I’d have done it sooner.”

I pull back slightly, and frown. “Don’t say that.”

His skin is pale and he’s coated in a layer of sweat and grime. I can smell the battle on him—blood and earth and steel. But his scent of the mountains seeps through and warms me with its familiarity. Black veins spread from the wound in his shoulder. They are fainter than before, but he must be in pain.

The wolf has gone from his eyes, and it is the man who now watches me.

“I thought of you every hour I was away,” he says. “All I could think of was getting back to you. I shouldn’t have left you. I won’t do it again.”

My throat thickens. I try to harden my heart. I try to freeze the warmth that spreads through my veins. Because it’s not true.

He will trade me for the Heart of the Moon to save his people, and soon this will be over.

“You will,” I whisper.

His jaw hardens. “No.” His voice is rough and raw. “No. I won’t.”

I touch his face, my fingertips brushing over his stubble. “Callum, you brought me here for a reason. And now the Wolf King has returned—”

“I will find another way.”

“Callum—”

He slides his hand to the back of my neck and pulls my forehead to his. “I will find another way.”

His breath is hot on my skin, and my blood heats up. Our lips are almost touching. I long to sink further into his warmth, to take comfort in it. Even though it would be foolish. Even though it would destroy this wavering barrier between us and leave me open to all the pain that is yet to come.

He gently strokes the back of my neck, and my eyelids close.

It makes me feel safe, and warm, and cared for.

I wonder, when I am sent back home, whether I will ever feel this way again—whether I will ever feel anything again.

Without thinking, I kiss him.

He groans softly as he parts his lips. It makes me want to climb on top of him. I want to be closer to him in any way that I can.

But he is injured, and I know how much it will hurt if I succumb to these feelings completely.

I pull away.

“You’re not going back to him.” His tone is so steady and strong that I almost believe him.

He tugs me back down, and I nestle my head against his good shoulder. He sighs, and his breathing and heartbeat become steadier as the minutes pass by.

“Princess, will you do me a favor?”

“Yes,” I say—surprising myself with how quickly I agree.

“Will you take Blake’s collar off now?”

I jolt upright and he watches me with sleepy eyes.

“Goddess! I forgot I was wearing it.” I pull it off, and toss it to the other side of his chambers. It hits the foot of his armchair by the window.

Shame surges through me as I recall the argument I had with Callum before I knew he was injured. I wanted to provoke him. I feel worse when I think of the things Blake said about me, what he did to me. He kissed me.

“I didn’t choose him over you, Callum. I would never do that. Isla—”

I turn back to him, but his eyes are closed. There’s a soft, satisfied smile on his face and his bare chest moves up and down steadily. “Mm?”

“I’ll tell you later.” I put his arm around my neck. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

I try to nudge him to his feet, but I think I’d have more luck trying to pick up one of the mountains outside. So I nestle beside him on the floorboards, and let his warmth cocoon me.

His arm tightens around my shoulder, pulling me close, and he sighs again.

Soon his gentle snores fill his chambers.

***

It is late at night when Callum and I sit on his bed, leaning against the headboard, eating bread and cheese that one of the servants brought us. They helped me change the bedding while he slept, too, so his quilt is no longer stained with blood.

The change in him is evident, even in the flickering candlelight. He slept all day. Color has come back to his cheeks and his eyes are bright. He no longer smells like a battlefield after I helped him wash the grime from his skin, and his wound is almost completely healed.

He’s changed from his battle-worn kilt into his loose-fitting cotton breeches, and rests his forearms against his knees. He gave me a shirt to wear too, because my dress was covered in his blood and I didn’t want to leave him to change in my chambers.

I sit with my knees close to my chest, the material pulled down to my calves. It is revealing and feels intimate to be wearing his clothes. It smells like him too, and I can barely concentrate as I tell him what happened while he was away.

He is listening attentively, though, and his gaze darkens when I tell him I suspect Isla stole his collar from me.

“Are you sure it was her?” he asks.

I snap my head toward him. “Yes.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Princess. I’m just surprised, I suppose. I knew the lass had a wee crush on me, but to defy her alpha like that. . .” His eyebrows knit together. “She gave you the note, though?”

“What note?”

“The note I—” Understanding dawns on his face. He drops his chunk of bread onto the plate, and rubs his face with both hands. “Fuck. No wonder you were so angry with me.”

“You wrote me a note? Before you left.”

“I’d never have left without saying anything at all.” His jawline hardens. “I’ll be speaking with Isla about this. I promise you, Princess. She won’t bother you again.”

I roll my eyes. “I can handle Isla.”

He grins. “You can?”

“Yes. And you’re missing the point. Why didn’t you just come and tell me you were leaving?” When he opens his mouth to respond, I give him a sharp look. “And don’t say you didn’t have time.”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck and stares at the foot of the bed.

“I should have gone back to your chambers to say goodbye, I know that. But before, when I was kissing you, tasting you, when I had you beneath me on that bed. . .” My cheeks flush, but he doesn’t seem remotely embarrassed. “I lost control of myself. I felt the wolf—”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’ve told you. The wolf doesn’t scare me.”

“But I was scared. The only time I feel out of control like that is when the moon is full. No one has made me feel that way before. And I was afraid.”

“You’re afraid of losing control with me?”

“Of course I am.”

Something sad blooms inside my chest and my throat thickens. I look away, my jaw tightening. “Oh. Right.”

“That upsets you?” I hear the confusion in his voice.

I shrug and force myself to bite into my bread. “No. I understand.” The bread is dry as it makes its way down my throat. “You need to trade me for the Heart of the Moon. You said you wouldn’t touch me. I’d be worthless to Sebastian if you. . . lost control around me.”

Callum doesn’t respond. All I can hear are the flames crackling in the hearth, the wind outside, and my own angry heartbeat. Carefully, he stacks my plate on top of his and places them both on the bedside table.

He puts his hand gently on my jaw, and turns my head so I’m looking at him.

He looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. Perhaps even a little. . . sad.

“Do you truly think that?” His brow furrows. “Do you truly think I give a shit about Sebastian? That I would give him the slightest bit of consideration when it comes to you and me? Princess, I made a promise not to touch you because it’s the right thing to do. And it’s a promise that gets harder to keep every day, every hour, every second I’m around you. But I must. Because I took you.”

He shakes his head, and his voice thickens. “I took you from your home, and your bed, and your people. I made you my prisoner, Aurora.” His eyes are shining, and he turns his attention to the posts at the end of the bed. “You think there’s always a choice, but there’s not. Not without freedom. You can’t choose me when you’re not really free.”

I’m blindsided. Emotions hurtle around my chest like the winds rattling the windows.

“Callum, you didn’t take me prisoner.”

I’m not sure if I’m relieved, or confused, or amused, or heartbroken. It is overwhelming. And yet, for once, I don’t want to push the emotions away. I want to embrace them. I want to feel.

I shift on the bed, and turn his face toward mine. “I chose to come. And I’m glad that I did. I have never felt more free than when I am with you. And. . . well. . .” I take a deep breath. “There’s another thing.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What is it?”

I chew my bottom lip. “I was planning on giving my father information about the Wolves once you had sent me back. I was going to use it to get out of my marriage with Sebastian.”

Callum stills. At some point during our time together, I let myself forget he is a fierce warrior, though it is obvious now from the tightening of his jaw, and the tension he emits. Was I foolish to admit this to him?

He told me before that he would die to save his people.

“Are you still planning to do that?” he asks.

“I don’t want to marry him, Callum.”

“Aye. I know that. But. . .” He puts his hand on my cheek. “What you’ve just told me. You cannot tell anyone else. If the king finds out. . . Please tell me you understand that?”

“I’m not a fool.”

Something like relief blooms in his eyes. “No. You’re not.” A soft smile plays on his lips, and he shakes his head. “My wee spy.”

The word my stokes something inside me.

“You’re not concerned?” I ask.

“It makes no difference to me.” He shrugs. “You’re not going back to him.”

“And, so you see, I was never really a prisoner to begin with.”

He drops his hand, and sighs. “You might think that, Princess, but I disagree.”

“Oh, for the love of the Goddess, Callum! Will you stop being such a big bloody. . . gentleman!”

He raises his eyebrows, and stills.

His gaze drops down to my body, and the shirt I’m wearing, and something unreadable flickers over his expression. “A spy, not a prisoner, huh?”

When he meets my eyes again, mischief dances amid the darkness.

“I never thought you’d ask me not to be a gentleman, Princess.”

He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, as if considering something. Then he grins. In a sudden movement, he flips me onto my back and climbs on top of me—caging me between his arms. He brings his mouth to my ear, and I shiver as his warm breath touches my skin.

“But I’ll be happy to oblige,” he whispers.