Page 150 of The Wolf King

“Perhaps. Though you thought I was a monster when we first met.”

Cold shame spreads through my body. It is hard to believe I could have thought this male, this wolf, was a monster. Perhaps I was a monster, to automatically assume such a thing.

“I know. I’m sorry for that,” I say. “I’ve learned a lot about Wolves since then.”

“Like what?”

“Well... I know they like to wander around naked a lot.” Callum laughs. “They’re horribly inappropriate. And they like to sniff people all the time.” He laughs louder. “They’re always fighting and brawling, and they listen to incredibly screechy music despite their very good sense of hearing. And some of them, like humans, are not very pleasant. But some... Some are gentle and kind and funny and caring. Some are good men.”

The smile dies from his lips, an intensity crossing his features. The tangle of nerves in my stomach starts to tighten once more.

“And some of them do not know how to behave like gentlemen,” I add, raising my chin.

He laughs, breaking the tense moment. “Aye, that might be true. You know, I’ve learned a lot about princesses these past few weeks, too.”

I give him a hard look. “Like what?”

“They’re very stubborn.” His eyes twinkle as I fold my arms across my chest. “And very fearsome. And very small.” I glare at him and he grins. “They’re a wee bit spoiled.”

“They are not!”

“And intelligent. They can’t handle their whisky. And they pretend to be very chaste and shy, but...” He drops his voice to a whisper, as though telling me a secret. “They’re actually very, very demanding.”

My cheeks flame and he laughs, loudly.

“They blush when you say rude things to them. And they’re good, and interesting, and honest, and kind. They hide their emotions, but they feel deeply. Passionately.” His expression becomes serious and my blood heats up. “They care about people more than they will admit. And they’re brave. Braver than any wolf I’ve ever known.”

There’s a tightness in my throat, and I swallow, trying to push it back. I do not know what is wrong with me, it’s just—

“I’ve upset you?” asks Callum, frowning.

The backs of my eyes burn. I sniffle, trying to suppress the feelings that threaten to come. “Some of the things you said were bad.”

“Goddess, I’m sorry, Princess, I—”

“Usually, people say I’m pretty.” My voice is thick.

Callum’s eyebrows raise. “Oh... you are. I didn’t mean to offend you by not mentioning—”

“No.” I blink a couple of times. “You don’t understand. That’s usually all they say. And it’s not even me they’re complimenting. It’s a version of me. It’s not real. It’s make-up and dresses and them wanting to get into my father’s good graces.”

I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand. I feel Callum watching me.

“No one... no one has ever tried to know me before.” I take a shuddery breath, tasting the woodsmoke that twists in the darkness. His gaze is so fierce that it is hard to hold it. “Not until you.”

His jaw is hard, his posture still. He says nothing for a moment, then removes his arms from his thighs, and sits back.

“Come here,” he says.

My pulse is fast as I get up and walk toward him. His body heat and scent wash over me as he parts his thighs for me to stand between them.

He takes my hand in both of his. “I do want to know you. I want to know everything about you.”

“I want that, too.”

He runs his thumb over my skin and his touch is gentle. He swallows, hard. “You’re not my prisoner anymore.”

“No.” I do not bother to add that I don’t believe I ever really was. I am ensnared, unable to think properly, unable to speak.

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