Page 121 of The Wolf King

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.”

“ButIwas 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. AndIwas 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.

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