Page 74 of The Wolf King

He unfastens the collar, and places it on the bedside table.

“You don’t need to wear that when it’s just us,” he says.

“Fiona said you don’t like it. As a tradition.”

“No. I don’t.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders and all my nerves come alive. His skin is hot, and his fingers are strong as he kneads my muscles. I breathe out slowly, my body softening under his touch.

“Why?” I whisper.

His hands move down, and his palms stretch across my back and make me feel tiny in comparison to him.

“My father was a... difficult male.” His fingers are on either side of my waist as he runs his thumbs in gentle circles down my spine. I have to suppress a moan. “He was the alpha of Highfell before me, and he believed that leadership was all about dominance and bending others to your will. If you’re not a wolf, you’re a sheep, he would say. He did not treat his people well. Nor did he treat my mother well.”

His hands move back up to my shoulders.

“He was possessive. Jealous. Angry. When he’d lose his temper, he’d say it was the wolf that made him do it. It wasn’t. It was him.”

He swallows.

“I don’t want to be like him. I wanted to be alpha to look after my people, to protect them. Not to dominate them. But I feel it sometimes—that flicker of anger, or that twinge of jealousy. I wanted to hurt Blake earlier, when he invited you to his chambers.” He laughs darkly. “When does protectiveness become possessiveness? Can you even be an alpha if a part of you doesn’t like to be in charge?”

He runs his thumb over the back of my neck, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. I fight back a whimper.

“The collar, it’s a symbol of dominance. And I don’t like it. When I am with a female, I want it to be because we are equal. I do not want to become my father. I do not want my people to think that is who I am. And I don’t wantyouto think that’s who I am, Princess.” He trails his hands over my upper arms, and sighs. “So no, I do not like you wearing that thing. It is a reminder of everything I do not want to be.”

“What do you want to be?”

He pauses, and for a moment, all I can hear is his breathing and the soft flicker of the candle by the bed. “A good man.”

I swallow. “I think you’re a good man.”

I probably shouldn’t think that about a wolf who stole me from my bed, but I do. I have met monsters, and Callum is not one of them.

“That means a lot, Princess.” Callum’s voice is rough, and I know he’s being sincere. “It really does.”

Candlelight casts shadows across the wall beside me, and despite the heaviness of the conversation, my body is weightless beneath Callum’s hands. He moves them over my shoulders, kneading and pressing his fingers into my aching muscles.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yes.”

My blood is heating in my veins. Even though the chambers are cold, I’m hot.

He may be relieving tension from my muscles, but it seems to be building up in a different way. I want more. I want him harder, firmer, lower.

My breathing quickens. There’s another ache building between my legs. As his fingers lightly brush my waist, all the heat in my body seems to pool at my core.

Callum stills.

Cold disappointment floods me.

“What’s the matter?” I glance over my shoulder.

Panic surges through my body when my gaze lands on Callum’s face.

I scramble forward, reaching for the silver letter opener on my bedside table, as I push my back against the headboard.

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