Page 89 of The Wolf King

He laughs, then shrugs. “I left my kilt in the forest. Don’t tell anyone, but these breeches are actually rather comfortable. Do I look like a gentleman?”

I laugh, too, and shake my head. “No.”

“No?”

“You look like a rake.”

He puts a hand on his chest, his eyes widening in mock indignation. “A rake? Me? Why?”

“Firstly, there is the case of the missing shirt.” My gaze drops to his chest and the ridges of his abdomen. I look at the hard V of his hips, and the line of hair trailing downward, and swallow. “Also... a gentlemen wouldn’t wear those breeches.”

“Why not?”

“Look how loose-fitting they are! And the material...” My gaze drops even further, before I hurriedly meet his eyes again, heat creeping into my cheeks. “I don’t think you’re as covered up as you think you are. Wherever did you get them from?”

“I got these from the King’s City when I was looking for my mother. A market by the docks, if I recall correctly.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Why’s that?”

“The docks are an incredibly disreputable place to go.” I raise an eyebrow. “I should have known you would find yourself there.”

A half-smile plays on his lips. “It was easier to blend in there as a wolf, that’s for sure.”

Something in the air seems to shift.

“Why did you bring me to your chambers?” I ask.

He opens his mouth as if to speak. The humor disappears from his expression and he sighs.

“I... the wolf hasn’t quite settled down yet,” he says. “I suppose I’m feeling a wee bit... protective of you, right now. I would rather that you were here.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”

Some of the tension leaves his upper body, and he raises his eyebrows. “Really? That was easier than I expected.”

“I can be agreeable when I want to be.” I shrug off my torn cloak, then I take off my boots, and shuffle back on the bed. “Plus, your bed is more comfortable than mine.”

His gaze moves to my bare feet as they sink into the downy quilt, then back to my face. His jaw tightens.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

He takes a step toward the bed. Then he halts, his hand curling into a fist.

Gritting his teeth, he swivels on his heel and starts pacing up and down the room. The floorboards creak beneath his weight.

My brow furrows. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

“I. . . nothing. . . It’s a—”

“Donotsay it’s a wolf thing. You’ve barely spoken to me all week, I was chased through the forest last night, and now you’re acting strange. Tell me what’s going on.”

He stands still and blows out hot air. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Irritation prickles beneath my skin. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. Goddess knows that you should. You’re inappropriate, and you’re the enemy of my kingdom, and last night you turned into a wolf and slept on top of me! But you don’t. So stop acting as if I’m made of glass and you’re afraid I might shatter, and tell me what’s wrong.”

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