Page 147 of The Wolf King

“Where are you taking me?” I ask. My voice is almost drowned out by the sound of the hooves thudding against the mud, and the pounding of my heartbeat.

“James sent a messenger to Sebastian. Everything my brother said... it was a lie. He means to send you back in exchange for the Heart of the Moon. Sebastian is on his way.”

My stomach drops, and Callum’s arm tightens around my waist.

“He can’t have you.” His voice is hard. Angrier than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m taking you away from all this. I’m taking you to Highfell.” He pulls me closer to him, and his body heat washes over me. “I’m taking you home.”

Chapter Fifty

We ride for hours.

The night is pitch-black and I cannot see beyond a few inches in front of my face.

At one point, I hear water lapping the pebbled shore of a loch. At another, wind stirs the branches of the trees and I can smell fern and damp earth. Dark shapes loom around us.

All the while, Callum is silent behind me.

His chest is hard against my back, and his thighs are tense as they brush against mine.

I wonder if he feels betrayed by his brother, or whether he feels as if he is betraying his people by taking me away.

Or perhaps it is neither. Perhaps he is angry I danced with Blake.

When Callum took me from the dancefloor, his kiss was hard and dominant. It was as if he was staking his claim. Heat stirs inside me at the memory of his mouth against mine, despite how unnecessary and inappropriate it was to do such a thing in front of so many people.

He must realize he has nothing to worry about as far as Blake is concerned. I do not trust that male in the slightest.

“Are you okay?” I ask. The wind is violent, and my voice is barely audible over the sound of the rustling trees.

“Those scars on your back,” he says softly, surprising me, “how did you get them?”

Memories flood my mind—the stained-glass windows of the Church of Light and Sun, months of sickness and grief, the High Priest and his crop.

I swallow. “It was a long time ago.”

A rough sound vibrates in Callum’s chest. “Was it your father?”

I turn myself to stone. A statue. Something that cannot feel pain.

“If you must know, I was sick, like my mother. The potions they gave me didn’t help. The High Priest said if he... cleansed me of my sin, the Goddess would spare me,” I say hurriedly. “And she did.”

His body stills behind me. I’m not sure he’s breathing. “The High Priest beat you?”

“It... it was only a few times—”

“Only?!” I flinch at the loudness of Callum’s voice.

“Yes. Only,” I snap. I don’t want his anger. It stirs something ugly inside me that I cannot face. “Now drop it.”

My breathing is fast, and so is his.

Until, finally, I exhale—letting the anger plume in front of my face with my breath. I touch his wrist where it rests in my lap.

“I do not wish to speak of it. Okay?”

A sound rumbles through his chest—a low growl he is clearly trying to suppress. “No one will ever touch you again.”

With the heat and strength of his body cocooning me, I almost believe him.

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