Page 49 of The Wolf King

Afloorboard creaks, and my eyes jolt open.

It takes me a moment to realize I’m lying on Callum’s bed.

My body heats. Before today, I’d never even been in a man’s bedchambers before—let alone fallen asleep on their soft quilt with my hair soaking their pillows. At least I had the grace to clothe myself in the tartan dress after my bath. Even if my feet are bare, and my skirts have risen to my thighs.

I can smell him on the sheets, soft and masculine, and my cheeks flush.

The room is dark, though a fire is crackling in the hearth, emitting a soft glow. When I glance at the narrow window, I notice the crescent moon outside. It is nighttime already.

Beside the window, Callum sifts through his wardrobe. He’s wearing his kilt, but his shirt now hangs over the arm of his chair.

I bite my bottom lip.

I saw him topless when he was in the fighting ring, and his hard muscle had seemed fearsome. Now, I find myself admiring his broad shoulders and the way that the muscles in his back shift as he pulls out a shirt.

His skin glistens, and his hair is darker, as if wet. He must have washed, too.

“Good sleep?” he asks without turning.

I shut my eyes, my breath hitching.

“I know you’re awake, Princess. Your heart is hammering.” The floorboards creak as he turns. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He sounds concerned—ashamed, even.

The air shifts as he approaches. My pulse quickens and I’m not sure why. I do not fear him, even though I probably should. He breathes in sharply, then places something on the bedside table beside me.

“If it makes you feel safer,” he says.

I open my eyes. The letter opener he took from me during the siege now sits beside a half-burned candle.

I push myself up onto the pillows and take it, turning it in my hand. The silver gleams in the dim light.

I frown. “You would give me this?”

“I don’t want you to fear me.”

I stare at the tiny knife, then at the size of Callum, and fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t think I could do much damage with this.”

An answering grin spreads across his face, and he shrugs. “Small things can be deadly, too.”

He places his shirt onto the bed, and crouches in front of me. His face is close to mine, and I fight the urge to drop my gaze and look at his bare chest. He closes his fingers around my hand, and brings it close to his neck so that the blade is almost touching his skin.

My breathing quickens. “What are you doing?”

“Go for the throat.” His voice is rougher than usual.

I swallow, then nod. The air heats, becomes unbreathable.

He pulls away and I exhale. He releases a long breath too, and I wonder if I wasn’t the only one affected.

Turning around, he shrugs on his shirt, and buttons it up.

“I don’t fear you,” I say, quietly.

His shoulders soften.

“Good. You have no reason to.” He nods at the blade, clutched in my hand. “The other Wolves here... and the particular wolf we’ll be meeting with tonight...” His expression darkens. “Be on your guard, Princess. And stay close to me.”

I place the blade in the pocket of my dress.

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