Page 45 of The Wolf King

Callum’s eyes narrow. “Aye. Course he did.”

“You’re welcome to challenge me for the title, if you wish.” The big man leans forward, resting his sizeable arms upon the table. “As it’s my castle you’re in, I don’t imagine it’ll go well for you. Nor do I imagine James will be happy if I throw the whole lot of you out.”

A muscle twitches in Callum’s jaw. “When will James be back?”

The man shrugs. “How should I know? A couple of weeks, maybe.” His attention moves back to me. “I’m Robert. You can call me Your Majesty, if you like.” His grin twists into a leer, and a couple of the others snicker. “The real question is, who are you? And what are we going to do with you?”

Chapter Sixteen

There is a ball of nervous energy inside me.

I walked into a den of Wolves, and they’re looking at me like they’re going to devour me. And this is before they’ve even discovered my true identity; the daughter of their enemy king.

It is only the dark-haired man draped over the chair at the end who seems disinterested in my fate.

“You’re not going to do anything with her,” says Callum. There’s a deathly calm to his tone. “She was Sebastian’s prisoner, and now she’s with me. I wanted to speak with James, but as he’s not here, we’ll be taking our leave.”

He grabs my hand.

“No,” says Robert, softly.

Callum stills, and a thick tension spreads across the room, mingling with the heady scent of woodsmoke. He releases me.

“No?” he says, his voice equally quiet.

Robert nods at me. “Who is she?”

I raise my chin. My eyes flit momentarily to the narrow window and the mountains beyond—the freedom that I desire. “I’m—”

“Her name is Rory,” says Callum. “A kitchen maid. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

A flicker of irritation cuts through the fear. Must it always be this way for me? Men discussing my future as though I have no say in it myself.

A crunch momentarily distracts me as the man at the end of the table bites into his apple. His eyes are on me, now. Glinting.

Callum shifts so that his body shields me from him—even though the man posing as the king is clearly the bigger threat.

“Why did you bring her here?” asks Robert.

“That’s none of your concern,” replies Callum.

Robert laughs darkly. “I won’t have a human walking freely in my castle. Though perhaps she can stay with me and keep my bed warm.”

A low growl vibrates in Callum’s chest and the humor disappears from Robert’s face. Beside him, Duncan rises and his hand moves to a sword in his belt.

It was foolish to come here, to think it would end differently than this.

These men will fight for me. And if Callum loses, will I be killed? Or will my fate be even worse?

I let a childish dream of freedom, and a wolf with kind eyes, ensnare me. Now I am in more danger than ever before.

Callum’s hand curls into a fist at his side.

“Oh, let him keep his pet.” The man at the end of the table finally speaks. His voice is as smooth as silk, and, to my surprise, he speaks with a Southlands accent. “Did I ever tell you about the time my mother let me keep a rabbit?” He looks at Robert, before going back to his apple. “When she took it from me, I cried.”

No one speaks for a moment. Silence hangs over us like a shroud. Robert sinks back into his seat and scrapes his hand over his stubble.

He chuckles. “Very well. Keep your pet, Callum. But she earns her keep.”

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