Page 128 of The Wolf King

“Okay. But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m going to murder him.”

I nod.

Glad to have something to do, I head to Blake’s chambers.

Chapter Forty-Five

Ienter Blake’s chambers without knocking.

He’s in his armchair again, reading that book he took from my room.

He turns the page, then reaches for a teacup on the table beside him. From the fresh herbal scent in the room, I’d wager it is full of peppermint tea.

He takes a sip, then goes back to his book. “Have you met the last person, other than you, who burst into my chambers unannounced?” he asks.

“No?”

“That’s because they’re dead.”

“Am I supposed to be scared?”

“Yes.” He flicks the page. “You smell like wet dog, by the way. I knew Callum wouldn’t be able to resist playing with his new toy.”

I hold up his black collar to show I won’t be wearing it anymore. “I’ve come to return this.”

He shrugs, not lifting his gaze from his book. “You can put it on the desk.”

Irritation flares inside me. Is he not even going to look at me?

Deep down, I know it’s not just annoyance at Blake that flickers beneath my skin and makes my chest feel tight. It’s fear too; I’m afraid of this unchartered territory I find myself in.

I’m playing a game and I don’t know the rules any longer.

I’m lost among Wolves, and I think I am falling for one of them. I shared something with him last night that is forbidden to me. And he has been distant with me all morning. And soon, I must meet with his king—a male so fearsome that the other Wolves fall behind him.

I thought if I came to the Northlands, I could win the right to choose my own fate.

But the Wolf King is the one who holds all the cards here, and I do not know what moves I need to play in order to win.

I take a deep breath, forcing my emotions down and hardening my soul. I focus my attention on the wolf before me instead.

He looks as disheveled as he did on the night of the storm. Perhaps even more so.

He’s wearing the same clothes as last night. His white shirt is untucked and there are a few spots of blood on his unbuttoned collar. His dark hair is messy, and his feet are bare as he rests them on a footstool.

The candle beside him flickers, and is almost burnt out, even though the morning light permeates the narrow window behind him.

I wonder if he’s slept at all.

“Are you going to apologize?” I ask.

His gaze slides to mine as if I’ve finally caught his attention. “I saved his life. You should be thanking me.”

“You said...” My cheeks flame. “You said some very inappropriate things about me.”

A stupid dimple creases one of his cheeks. The smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “Come now, you can’t be acting shy any longer. Not after whatever you and that big oaf got up to last night.”

“You. . . you kissed me!”

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