The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I’m cold. There’s something hard beneath me. The air smells like mildew. Somewhere, something is dripping.

“You should bathe her before you present her to him. She smells strongly of the Highfell wolf.” A deep, unfamiliar male voice rumbles through my fuzzy mind and makes my muscles harden.

“He’s territorial. It works in our favor.” This voice is familiar. Bored. A dark, smooth caress on my senses.

I force my eyes open, but I remain perfectly still. I do not know what is happening. I do not know where I am. I’m like a rabbit in a trap, trying to avoid attention from predators.

I calm my pulse and take stock of my surroundings.

I’m lying on a cot in the corner of a small, dank dungeon cell. The stone walls are wet, and the air is thick. We’re underground, I presume. Through the bars, two men lean against the opposite wall, torchlight dancing over their features as they talk.

One, I have never seen before. He is tall and broad-shouldered. His dreadlocks are tied back from his face to reveal bright brown eyes and a chiseled jaw. He is not dressed like a wolf. He wears black leather breeches and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose tattoos inked on his dark skin.

The other is Blake. His dark clothes make him look at one with the shadows.

A jolt of hate surges through me—so powerful I almost cry out. The worst thing is, I feel betrayed. I shouldn’t. I should have known Blake would turn on me. How naïve I have been.

I try to calm my breathing, afraid they will turn their attention to me.

I need to think. I need to get out of here.

“The Highfell wolf is secure, by the way,” says the man.

My pulse accelerates. Callum.

“Good.” Blake adjusts his cuffs. “Did he cause you any trouble?”

“A little. We handled it. He may cause you some trouble when all this is through, though.”

“I imagine so. And what news from the continent?”

“My men looked. Couldn’t find him.”

“And the Snowlands?”

“Cold. Dark. They fear the night that spreads.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

“Is it?”

Blake shrugs. “Depends on your interests, I suppose.”

“We have an eavesdropper, by the way.”

My heart stills as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Oh yes, I know,” replies Blake. “She’s been awake for a couple of minutes now.”

My blood runs cold and I grit my teeth, trying not to shudder.

“I’ll leave you to it,” says the man. “See you back at the castle once this is all through?”

“Yes. Be careful with him, Jack. I need him alive.”

“Right. I’ll do my best.”

There’s the sound of a door opening and shutting. Jack’s footsteps fade into nothing.

For a moment, the air is thick with silence.

“There’s no use pretending to be asleep, little rabbit.” Blake’s voice is like silk. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

He walks to the barred wall of my cell, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous dark. I open my eyes to glare at him.

“Where’s Callum?” My voice is hoarse. I’m not sure if it’s the aftermath of whatever Blake drugged me with, or from screaming in the forest.

“The rabbit wakes up in a cage, and her first thought is of the wolf who captured her.” He clucks his tongue, eyes dancing in the firelight.

“You are my captor, you idiotic man.”

A dimple punctures his cheek. “I suppose I am. Callum is not here, but he is safe. You will be too, if you play along.”

I push myself upright. My head pounds, and I put a hand on my forehead, wincing. Feeling Blake assessing my weakness, I quickly force my arms to my sides, and slide my legs off the cot. I straighten my back.

“Play along with what?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

If I felt stronger, I would strangle him through the bars. Blake smirks as though he knows it. It stokes a fire within me so fierce I fear I will combust. If it weren’t for the bitingly cold air, perhaps I would.

“My orders are to take you to the Wolf King, now you are awake,” he says.

I calm my breathing. I need to be smart. I need to find out where I am, and what his intentions are with me, if I am to escape.

I swallow. “Where are we?”

“An abandoned manor house, close to the Borderlands.”

My stomach drops. “Is Sebastian coming for me?”

“Yes.”

The temperature in the cell seems to drop even further. “You truly are a snake, you know.”

“Oh, come now. It’s not so bad. I could have been worse to you.”

“You drugged me! You captured Callum! You let us go, then you came after us anyway! You locked me in a cell, and now you’re handing me back to Sebastian! You. . . You acted as if you were helping me and forfeited my life anyway! How could you possibly have been worse?”

I trusted you, I don’t say. But the words spread through my body like poison.

He leans against the bars, dangling his arms in the gaps between. His gaze lazily travels to some handcuffs hanging from the ceiling in the center of the cell. “I could have bound you in chains.”

A feral sound escapes my throat and Blake laughs.

“You’re not even a snake,” I spit. “You’re a coward. I know why you’re doing this, you know? You’re not as mysterious as you like to think.”

“Oh, no? Pray, tell me—why am I doing this?” His eyes glint in the darkness.

“You weren’t born into the Kingdom of Wolves, were you? That must be lonely, to be a wolf, but be born among men. How hard it must have been for you. And how pathetic, for you to want so desperately to belong to them that you lie, and scheme, and play with people’s lives. Though I suppose handing me to James will gain you the favor you desire.”

Blake clucks his tongue. The gesture is almost teasing, but something cold flickers across his face.

“Come now, you’re smarter than that. Do you truly think I want to belong to the Wolves? My father was a wolf, and I killed him.” He steps back, unbuttons his sleeve, and rolls it up to reveal the jagged white scar on his forearm. “A wolf bit me and activated this curse, and I killed him too. And the wolf gene that has always been a part of me. . . well. . . it condemned me to the darkness from the moment I was born.”

He smiles coolly. “No, darling, I do not want to belong to the Wolves. I want to rule them.”

Darkness emanates from him, twisting with the shadows. For a moment, words evade me.

Then I laugh, shaking my head. “You wish to be the Wolf King?”

“Is that truly so amusing?”

“Amusing? No. Deranged, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugs, pulling his sleeve back down, seemingly unaffected by my derision. “Perhaps not.”

“What if I tell James what you’ve just told me?”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because if something were to happen to me, what do you think would become of Callum?” He fastens the silver button on his cuff. “What will become of you?”

My soul hardens. Every bone in my body turns to ice. My muscles stiffen, and my fingers dig into the thin mattress that sits on the cot.

Blake pulls a key from the pocket of his breeches, and turns it in the lock. The door screeches open.

He holds out his arm for me to take. “Come. James is expecting us.”

My laugh sounds bitter and twisted. “Why on earth would I come with you?”

“Play along with my game, and you might survive. You may even avoid being sent back to the Southlands.”

I grit my teeth. “How does giving me to James help you to get what you want?”

He gestures with his head. “Come and find out.”

When I make no sign of movement, he exhales. His breath plumes in front of his face.

“When I present you to the king, you will be presented with a choice,” he says. “Choose correctly, and you will be safe. You have my word.”

“Your word means very little to me, Blake.”

He shrugs. “Of course, I could come in there and throw you over my shoulder. I could carry you kicking and screaming to the Wolf King. Is that truly how you wish to present yourself to him when so much is at stake?”

He holds out his hand. I glare at it, then him.

I know he is serious. If he came into this cell, I could hit him and try to run free. But I felt the strength in his body when we danced. I recall Callum telling me that Blake is stronger, more competent, than he seems. Perhaps it would give me some satisfaction, to inflict even the smallest bit of damage onto this snake. But he will win, in the end. And then what?

No. I will not fight him. Not yet. I will bide my time. I will be smart. I will find out what the Wolf King has to say.

Perhaps I can make my own bargain. Perhaps I can play my own game.

I take a deep breath and I rise. I brush some mud from my breeches, watching as it scatters across the stone floor. My legs are shaking, but I raise my head as I cross the cell, ignoring Blake’s outstretched arm.

“I hate you,” I tell him through gritted teeth as I walk past him into the gloomy corridor.

“Oh, darling, I know.” The door to the cell swings shut, and he falls into step beside me.

We walk up some stone steps. They’re damp and they glisten in the torchlight. At the top, Blake unlocks another door, then leads me down a tired walkway, the walls lined with fading portraits. There’s a murmur of voices in one of the rooms that we pass, and I wonder how many men James has brought with him. If there are not too many, perhaps I can escape them.

I shiver, wishing I had my cloak as we head up a stairway and toward a door at the end of the landing.

Blake taps his knuckles against it, and my stomach clenches when he pushes it open. He stands back to let me enter first.

I’m hit first by a wave of warmth from the fire in the hearth. We appear to be in some kind of drawing room. There is a worn rug on the floorboards, a writing desk by one wall, and a few battered leather armchairs collected around the fireplace. James sits in one of them.

His presence seems to fill the entire room.

It is not just his size, it is the power that radiates from his eyes when they land on mine.

His brown shoulder-length hair is wild, and he is dressed in his red kilt, slightly different to Callum’s. The sleeves of his cream shirt are rolled up to his elbows and I notice one of the tattoos on his forearms is a flower—a contrast to his otherwise hard demeanor.

I grit my teeth, and hold my head high. I won’t cower before him.

He scratches his jaw, then smiles. “Take a seat.”

I sit in the armchair opposite him. Blake crosses the room and leans by the wall beside the window.

“I apologize for how I got you here, Princess.” I flinch at him calling me that—even though it is my title. It is what Callum calls me, and it sounds wrong coming from his mouth. “You shouldn’t have run from me.”

I do not reply. What does he expect me to say?

“I have sent word to Sebastian. He is on his way.”

“He won’t give you the Heart of the Moon, you know?” I say.

James runs a hand over his mouth. “No. I doubt he will.”

I try to remain calm, even though I feel as if there’s a tornado in my chest. “So what is the point in all this? Why give me back to him? Why betray your brother?”

His eyebrows raise. “You think I’m the one betraying my brother? He turned his back on his people when he stole you from me.”

“I am not an object to be stolen. And you haven’t answered my question.”

He shifts back in his armchair, the leather squeaking beneath him.

“I don’t give a shit about the Heart of the Moon. Men win wars, not goddess-blessed relics. If Sebastian brings it, then great. If not, no harm done. What I care about is Sebastian. I want to hurt him. I can use you to do that.”

I wish he could not hear my pulse as I stiffen. “You’re going to hurt me?”

“Did Callum tell you what happened to our mother?” asks James.

“He said she ran away.”

“Aye. She did. I never had the heart to tell him what happened next.”

Despite the blazing heat coming from the fire, my blood runs cold. “What?”

“Sebastian got her. I do not know what she endured in the weeks before, but I know what happened on the night of the full moon. My father received confirmation a few days after when a fur coat arrived on our doorstep.”

A wave of nausea rolls through me so strongly that I grip the arms of the chair. I know that Sebastian is a monster, but finding out that he tortured Callum’s mother is almost too much to bear. What’s more, James knew this, and let Callum travel to King’s City to look for her anyway.

“You never told Callum.” My voice is quiet, almost inaudible.

“I wanted to spare the lad.” He grits his teeth, his jaw hardening.

I wonder if he really believes this, or whether keeping this information from Callum was part of his ploy to keep hold of the throne.

“I have done more for him than he will ever appreciate,” says James. “And this is how he repays me? By taking you away?”

My pulse accelerates. “Sebastian does not care about me, you know? If you hurt me, it will mean nothing to him.”

He stares at me long and hard.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. So here is where I offer you a choice. The first option is that we go ahead with the trade. Sebastian will come for you, and I will give you to him. He will bring his men, and I will bring mine. And when he gives me whatever piece-of-shit rock he thinks I’m going to believe is the Heart of the Moon, and when I’ve handed you over, war will break out. I will do whatever it takes to kill him. And perhaps he’ll get away with you, or perhaps you’ll get caught in the crossfire. Either way, I do not think your chances of survival are very high.”

“So, what is the other option?”

“The other option is that I take something from him. Something that will humiliate him. Something that will send a message to all of the Southlands.” He leans forward in chair, resting his elbow on the arm. “You’re a bonny lass, Aurora. And it’s about time I found myself a queen. The other option is you marry me.”