Page 129 of The Wolf King

“It was hardly a kiss.”

A tornado rages inside my chest, rattling my bones, and I need to release it. I toss his collar onto the floor between us. “Here.”

As soon as I’ve done it, I regret it.

I don’t know much about Wolves, but these collars are important to the alphas. Blake may be different than the others, but he is an alpha nonetheless.

For a moment, we’re paused in time. Neither of us moves, and the air is heavy and silent.

He slides his feet off the footstool, and rises.

A part of me wants to step back, but I make myself hold my ground. I won’t cower. Not before him.

He surprises me by crouching onto one knee before me. He picks up the collar, then looks up.

His body heat envelopes me, and I catch the scent of dark forests and peppermint tea.

He moistens his lips, and for some reason, what Callum did to me last night crashes into my mind. Followed by one of the horrible things that Blake said. About having me ride his face.

When Blake smirks, I realize that was exactly his intention.

I have had many things to be angry about. My father, selling me off to the highest bidder. My mother dying. My brother’s cold indifference. The High Priest’s cruelty. It is now that wild fire spreads through my veins. And when Blake slowly rises to his full height, I slap him across the face with all the strength I have.

The crack echoes around his chambers as his head jerks to one side.

I pull back, stunned, my heartbeat the only thing I can hear, my palm stinging. I cannot believe I just did that. I have never hit anyone in all my twenty years of life. Princesses don’t hit people.

They especially don’t hit Wolves. Or alphas. Or alpha Wolves that other alphas seem to fear.

Callum described Blake as the most dangerous male in the Kingdom of Wolves, and I just slapped him. Goddess!

As the mists of rage and confusion ebb away, I notice Blake is smiling. His cheek is bright red and his eyes dance.

“The rabbit has grown some claws,” he says.

“Don’t touch me again.”

“Likewise.” He walks back across the room, tossing the collar on the table, before dropping into his armchair. “Out of interest, what will you do if I touch you again?” He arches an eyebrow. “Put buckthorn in my tea?”

I narrow my eyes. “Wolfsbane.”

He smiles, then leans back in his seat and rests his ankle on his knee. He grabs his book and starts reading, as if he’s finished with me, as if I’m no threat.

I decide he is not worth any more of my time. I have more important things to worry about. I turn on my heel and stride back to the door.

“Aurora,” says Blake.

“What?”

“You’re not planning on meeting the Wolf King dressed like that, are you?”

Don’t bite. Don’t bite. Don’t—

“What’s wrong with this dress?” I ask, turning back around.

“You look like a pretty little doll.” The way he says it doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Perhaps that’s the point.”

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