Page 19 of The Wolf King

“Aye.”

The blood in my veins turns to ice.

I may not want to marry Sebastian, but these aremypeople being attacked by Wolves. And I am willingly leaving with one of them. And he is a killer. They all are.

“Put me down!”

“You don’t want me to do that.”

The small gem of truth in what he says makes my insides twist. “You have no idea what I want.”

“Whatdoyou want?”

A strange jolt of adrenaline—ofsomething—floods my system. I don’t have an answer. No one has ever asked me that before. And why should they? It doesn’t matter what I want. Statues do not want, or feel, or need.

The alpha’s eyebrows dip in question, or confusion.

“I want... I want you to put me down.”

His gaze moves to the Western Gate that looms ahead, and the corner of his lip tugs up. “No you don’t.”

“You said I had a choice.” Raindrops roll into my mouth.

“Aye. And you made it. And as you can’t seem to tell me truthfully what it is that youwant right now, I will take that as your final decision.”

The Western Gate is open—though it should not be—and a group of men in kilts wait on horses in the shadow of the dark whispering trees beyond. They glance in our direction, and the alpha’s arms tighten around me as he stalks toward them.

I open my mouth.

“I’m not leaving you, Princess. And that’s the end of the matter.” There’s a dark finality to his tone. This is a man who is used to having the last word.

“You’re a monster,” I mutter—though I don’t quite mean it. He’s a killer, maybe. But I’m not sure he’s a monster.

“Aye,” he says just as half-heartedly. “So you’d better do as you’re told.”

A hot flash of fury ignites inside me. I want to tear into this man—this wolf—who thinks he can pick me up whenever he pleases. I want to pummel my fists against his chest and shriek until my throat is raw.

The force of this feeling—so unfamiliar—scares me into keeping it at bay. I push it into the cage in my mind, and lock it away.

When we clear the gate, Magnus is waiting atop a horse and my blood cools.

“Got yourself a wee snack for the road?” he says.

“She’s under my protection.” The alpha stalks past him toward a grey mare near the front of the group. “Easy there, Dawn,” he says when the horse whinnies.

Everyone is staring at me, and I must look bedraggled and pathetic.

“Put me down!”I say through gritted teeth.

The alpha slides me to the ground. My nightdress is turning translucent in the rain, and I cross my arms over my chest. His expression softens and he throws the fur cloak over my shoulders, pulling it in around my collarbone.

“Can you ride, Princess?” he asks.

I can. My mother taught me when I was a child. Being on horseback made me feel free. Perhaps that is why my father forbade me to ride after her death.

Keeping this information to myself may be helpful if I need to escape. It is best, I have found, to let people underestimate me.

So, I shake my head.

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