Page 11 of The Wolf King

“Sebastian. He won’t touch you.” His tone is so dark, so certain. I turn to face him—raising my head to meet his gaze.

“He is to be my husband,” I say softly.

Again, I am reminded of the rugged mountains when I look at him. His stance is dominant, powerful, and his face could be carved from rock. His eyes, though... those eyes... something that looks like remorse, or regret, passes over them.

“No,” he says, his voice equally quiet. “No, he isn’t.”

Does his plan for escape involve murdering Sebastian? Something inside tells me I should feelsomethingabout that. Sadness. Gladness.Anything.

I feel nothing.

I wonder if my body, this vessel that I trap my soul within, is slowly turning to stone. A statue for men like Sebastian to look at that has no purpose, no desire, no feeling.

And yet. . . as the alpha stares at me, something stirs.

I swallow hard. Then I look away—averting my eyes from the horrible wolf and the naked woman—and hurry to the main iron doors.

I feel alpha’s eyes on my back as I’m let out of the kennels.

Chapter Three

Iam to be wed tomorrow, and I cannot sleep.

I lie in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, and listen to the wind howling outside of the window. Shadows dance across the ceiling, and there is a bite to the air now there are only embers in the grate.

I was trained for this.

I was trained to be beautiful and silent and obedient. I forged a prison for my wild and angry soul and I waited for the day to come when I was to be wed.

A small part of me dreamed that one day I would fall in love like the princesses in my mother’s stories, that one day I would be free.

But I always knew there would be no happy ending for me.

So I waited and I dreaded.

And now it is here.

Tomorrow I will wed a man who makes Wolves fight as if they are dogs. Who threatened to take me like a mutt. Whose leery eyes make my skin crawl.

A man who I do not know, I do not love.

He won’t touch you.

The alpha’s promise resounds in my mind. I should tell someone what he said. I should tell someone he means to escape. I should tell someone he made a threat to the lord, to my betrothed. He is a wolf. An enemy.

Yet I lie here in the darkness, listening to the wind howling outside the castle.

And I remain as silent as I was trained.

It was an idle threat, anyway. There is no way that he can escape.

We are both prisoner to these walls.

Still, I glance at the silver letter opener on the bedside table before sleep finally takes me.

***

Sometimes I dream I am a statue in the palace gardens.

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