Page 56 of The Wolf King

My eyelids are heavy when Callum and I stop on a small, torchlit landing in the castle’s turret.

My breath mists in front of my face, but the labored climb has me hot and bothered. I’m not used to so much exercise. Callum hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“You said there was a condition,” I say, suppressing a yawn.

“Aye.” Callum pushes open a small wooden door. “It can wait until morning.”

He nudges me inside.

The room is small and filled with books. There are piles of them on a writing desk and they fill the rickety shelf beside it. There are even some stacked on the floorboards in one corner.

Against the wall, there’s a single bed.

There’s a scent in the air that seems familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Can Blake truly deal with Magnus?” I ask.

My insides twist with hate when I think of the wolf who burst into my bedchambers back in the Borderlands. He threatened me. Twice.

I’d have thought Callum would be better equipped to deal with a male like that. While Callum has been gentle with me, I saw him in the fighting ring. I know he would be a terrifying opponent.

Blake emitted a dark undercurrent of violence too, but it seemed more calculated and sharp—like a blade rather than a hammer.

“Blake has leverage on a lot of the Wolves here.” Callum’s eyes harden on the candle that flickers on the bedside table, as though it displeases him, before he continues. “He’s got something on Magnus. I don’t know what, but if anyone can keep him in check without me murdering him and losing his clan’s support, it’s Blake.”

When Callum opens the wardrobe, a low growl rumbles in his chest. It’s full of clothes.

“The prick knew I’d agree to you staying here,” he says. “He’s had someone prepare the room.”

He pulls out a white nightdress and hands it to me. It looks like it’s exactly my size.

“It’s clean,” he says.

“Oh. Thank you.”

I shift from one foot to another and Callum chews the inside of his cheek. For the first time since I met him, he seems at a loss for what to do next.

There’s a strange energy in the air.

“Um... You can go now,” I say.

His eyes widen. A slow grin spreads across his face, lightening his features.

“What?” I ask, folding my arms.

“I’ve not been dismissed since I was a wee lad pestering my parents,” he says. He inclines his head.

He walks to the door, but lingers in the doorway.

“I’ll come for you in the morning. And we’ll talk about my condition for having your own room. If you agree, I’ll show you around the grounds.”

“And if I don’t?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ll be sharing a room with me for the rest of your time here.”

Something in his expression changes, and I wonder if he can hear the quickening of my pulse.

“Good night, Princess,” he says, his voice a little rough.

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