The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

The Great Hall is transformed for James’s feast.

There is drinking and laughter and shouting. We eat roast venison and potatoes and vegetables smothered with butter. Fires roar in the two hearths, fighting the cold night that seeps through the narrow windows. The air is thick with the scent of woodsmoke.

As the night gets darker, the food gets cleared away and people dance raucously to the upbeat music coming from the band in the corner. The sound of bagpipes and fiddles and drums accompanies stomping feet that shake the hall.

To an outsider, it would seem like a joyous occasion. Yet the emotions inside my chest are as turbulent as the couples spinning on the dancefloor and the wind that rattles the windows.

Something is wrong.

Despite James telling the Wolves I am not to be harmed, hostile eyes have fallen on me all evening. The thought that Magnus and his friends must be here somewhere puts me further on edge. I do not want those disgusting men so much as looking at me.

And, what’s more, I do not trust the Wolf King.

There was something about the way he looked at me that worries me. Whatever his plans are, I do not think they will work in my favor.

I have had no time to voice my concerns to Callum. He has been in meetings with the other alphas all day—leaving me in my chambers with Ryan at my door.

Now, we are seated at the alpha table—with Callum in deep conversation with his brother about battle tactics. As he has been for most of the evening.

I’m fiddling with my wooden beaker of water, when Blake drops into the empty chair beside me. He’s taken off his black coat, and his dark shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Hello, little rabbit.” I catch a hint of whisky on his breath. “Enjoying the festivities?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Exceedingly.” He leans over me to reach for a decanter full of amber-colored liquid. I have to lean back to prevent getting his armpit in my face. “Yet you are not drunk in the slightest. Something we simply must rectify.”

He tops up his glass, then fills my beaker and pushes it toward me. His eyes glint in the torchlight—curious and watchful. And certainly more intelligent than his current demeanor suggests. I wonder if he is even drunk, or whether this is just a game.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to drink all this and start behaving like that.”

I gesture at one of the men stumbling around on the dancefloor, who—as if knowing the point I’m trying to prove—trips over his boots and crashes into one of the tables, knocking over a chair and spilling a jug of ale.

A dimple creases one of Blake’s cheeks. “Not at all. I’m merely trying to help. You seem on edge, little rabbit. Whisky helps.”

“I’d prefer to keep my wits about me.”

I scan the Great Hall—filled with Wolves who gave me grief before they knew I was the Southlands princess. I catch sight of Isla, dancing and giggling with a group of women. I think of what Magnus tried to do to me. I cannot suppress the cold shiver that crawls up my spine despite the blazing heat in here.

“It’s a shame Magnus couldn’t make it tonight,” says Blake, as though he read my mind. “He got a nasty bout of food poisoning. As did his friends. They’re in my infirmary. Don’t worry, though. I’m taking care of them.”

His voice is as dark as the night outside the castle.

The Great Hall seems to still. The music fades. All I can hear is my heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

My gaze snaps up to Blake’s, and something in his eyes makes me shiver.

I recall the vial of poison he took from me in the kitchens; the one I was going to use on Isla. He said he had a use for it.

Did he use it on them?

The corner of his lip quirks in answer to my unasked question.

“Will they. . . will they survive?” I ask.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He shrugs. “What do you think?”

A shadow stirs inside me—provoked by the darkness in Blake’s gaze. Everything else seems distant.

He is offering to kill them for me. I do not know how to feel about that. They deserve death, for what they were intending to do. But could my conscience bear it?

I swallow. “I. . . I don’t know.”

“Pity.”

“Are they in pain?”

“Very much so.”

I grab my beaker with shaking hands, clutching at the wood until my knuckles whiten.

I smile. “Good.”

Blake raises his glass. And, Goddess help me, I clink my beaker against it and drain it. I wince as the hot smoky liquid burns my throat. Coughing, I place it back down upon the table.

Blake nudges the bottle toward me before getting up and walking back into the crowd.

I pour myself another whisky.

He’s right. It does take the edge off.

***

“You’re drunk!” Callum roars.

Hundreds of candles flicker on the tabletops, and the light dances over his handsome face.

James has gone to mingle with his people, so Callum and I are alone at the alpha table. The Great Hall is a blur of dancing and brawling and music.

I poke him in the chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. I giggle. “You’re drunk.”

He laughs, as if he cannot believe what he’s seeing.

“Aye, I am a bit. Not as much as you.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to be a bloody nightmare tomorrow when the hangover kicks in! Goddess! I’m a wee bit scared!”

“You’re scared of me?”

“Oh aye. Very.”

“You said I was small!”

“You are small. You’re a small and fearsome creature.”

His face swims in and out of focus. I grab both sides of his head, and push my forehead into his. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

He laughs again, and his big hands curl around my waist. “You see? Terrifying.”

I dip my mouth to his ear. “That thing you did last night. I want you to do it again.”

He stills, his fingers tightening, and a soft groan scrapes his throat. His expression is pained. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning, shall we?”

“No. Now.”

He twists me around and pulls me onto his lap. “You see? You’re a small, fearsome, and demanding creature.” His warm breath tickles my ear. “And, believe me when I say, if you torture me tonight, I shall repay the debt tomorrow.”

“I’m not torturing you!”

I try to face him, but he pulls me back again, his thick arm hooked around my waist. His chest rises and falls deeply against my back.

“Oh, but you are. I’m hard just thinking about what we did last night, and about how much I want to do it again right now.” His words turn my insides to molten gold. He nips my ear with his teeth and I gasp. “I’d slide my hand between your legs right now if I could. I’d make you come while they all danced—oblivious to what I was doing to you.”

My pulse hammers in my ears, heat pooling at my core. “Why don’t you do it then?”

The wolf is in his eyes, and he does not try to hide it. “Because you’re drunk. And I’m drunk. And I fear you’d regret it in the morning.”

I stroke the side of his face, my fingers tracing his lips. “I wouldn’t.”

His eyes return to their usual forest-green. “Be that as it may, I won’t take that risk while you’re drunk. I will dance with you, though.”

“I’m not drunk!”

I push my fingers into his mouth. He nips them playfully with his teeth. I giggle.

“You are very drunk, Princess.” He glances at the writhing mass of people on the dancefloor. “Let’s dance.”

“I don’t know the moves.”

Callum nods at a couples of Wolves, spinning around and causing mayhem as others dodge out of their path. “I don’t think many of them do, either.”

A grin spreads across my face, and I jump up. “Okay. Come on then.”

He takes a deep breath, giving me a sheepish smile. “Aye. Just. . . just give me a moment.”

He looks away from me, exhaling. I’m about to ask him what the problem is, but he adjusts his kilt, and gets up.

He puts an arm around my waist, smiles, and leads me to the dancefloor.

***

I’m happy.

The thought jolts through me like a silver bullet—unfamiliar and strange and certain.

My feet ache from dancing. Strands of my hair escape their pins and stick to my face. My chest hurts because I’m constricted by my corset, and I’m far too hot beneath my long lacy sleeves.

Yet I am happy.

I do not hide the smile on my face, or my squeal of glee as Callum spins me around—his eyes filled with wonder and delight. His hands are warm and firm around mine.

The joy that has washed over me seems to have flooded the entire Great Hall. The dancefloor has cleared a little since earlier, with some of the Wolves heading into the alcoves, but the nearby Wolves dance alongside us. They’re too caught up in the music and the alcohol and their own laughter to throw any ill-feeling my way.

I have attended many dances in my twenty years, but I’ve never cut loose and felt so free.

Callum laughs as I spread my arms and spin around. He pulls me close. “I’ve just seen Fi. I need to speak with her about something.” His warm breath tickles my ear and I giggle. “Come on, sit down for a moment. Let’s get you a glass of water. I fear the havoc you will cause if I leave you unattended.”

He grins as he leads me to one of the tables and sits me down on the bench.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” He kisses my forehead. “Be good, okay?”

He strides over to Fiona, who is standing by the oak doors dressed in her stable gear. It could be my imagination, but she looks a little tense.

I follow her gaze to the seat at the middle of the alpha table where James now sits. He is speaking with Robert, one hand on a tankard of ale.

As they’re speaking, Blake walks past them to the band. Nearby, Brodie is watching them play. The young male’s expression is a mixture of resentment and awe, and the corner of my lip twitches.

Blake whispers something to one of the band members. They change the tune they’re playing to something a little slower.

I sway on the bench. The melody is familiar to me, though I cannot place it. I reach for a beaker and pour myself a glass of water.

When I turn back to the dancefloor, Blake stands in front of me.

He holds out a slender hand.

“Would you care to dance?” he asks.