Page 103 of The Wolf King

He curses under his breath.

And before I’m aware of what’s happening, he scoops me into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist, my core pressing against his hard torso. And then we’re on my single bed—the frame creaking with the weight of him—and he’s on top of me, his forearms on either side of my head as he hovers over my face.

His wolf eyes hold mine, as wild and feral as they were when we were in the forest. His jawline is hard, his biceps big and tensed—as though he is still holding back.

I touch his cheek, running my thumb over his swollen lips.

He rolls his hips once against me, those wild eyes never leaving my face, and I moan as his hard length presses against my core.

He growls again as he shifts down, peppering kisses down my jawline, my neck, my collarbone. His eyes glow in the darkness as he puts his mouth around my nipple and sucks hard through the fabric.

I cry out, my back arching off the bed.

His mouth is on mine again, hot and deep and claiming.

I sink my teeth into his bottom lip.

He growls, and grabs my wrist, pinning it roughly against the mattress. And the strength in him—Goddess, the strength in him! Exhilaration and raw heat surge through my body.

Then he stills.

Every muscle in his body tenses.

“Callum?” I whisper, my voice breathy and strange.

He sucks in a shaky breath. Then he lets out a half-laugh. “Perhaps I can’t control myself.”

He staggers back off the bed.

His breathing sounds pained. I’m not sure if it’s water from the loch or sweat that shines on his skin.

“Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

I sit up and he jerks back, his muscles twitching. His gaze snaps to the narrow window and the weak moonlight, then back to me.

“Callum?”

“I feel. . . I feel. . . strange.”

I slide off the bed and step toward him. “Callum, tell me what’s going on.”

“I feel... I feel like...” His hands clench in fists at his sides.

When he meets my gaze, he looks... wary.

“Callum... it’s okay,” I say softly, as though coaxing a wild animal.

I’m not sure what is wrong with him. Every muscle in his body is taut and strained. His biceps bulge against his shirt and his jaw is set. Perhaps that feeling of need that pulses through my body pulses through his too.

He told me before he wouldn’t let anyone touch me, himself included. Is that what he is worrying about? Touching me?

Or is he trying to hide the wolf inside him?

“I’m not afraid,” I tell him.

A vein pulses in his neck.

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