Page 21 of The Night Prince

Frustration pulses through me. I still feel him, hard, between my legs, so I know he feels the same. Stubborn wolf.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He smiles, somewhat sheepishly, and kisses me again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to hold you, to kiss you. I didn’t mean for it to get this far.”

“You’re a frustrating wolf, Callum McKennan. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He shrugs. “Some people may have mentioned it. If it makes you feel any better, I’m suffering, too.”

I roll my eyes and climb off him. “It’s suffering of your own devising.” I turn away from him and brush down my dress. “I would have let you take your pleasure from me in any way of your choosing, if you weren’t so stubborn.” I smirk when he stiffens and curses under his breath. I grab my cloak from the foot of the bed and walk toward the door. I look over my shoulder. “Are you coming?”

He gets up, slips on his shirt, and grabs a black coat from the armoire. There’s a dark look in his eyes as he stalks toward me, but it becomes playful as he hooks an arm around my waist, and nips my ear with his teeth. “Bold words, Princess. We’ll see if you feel that way after the full moon.”

Even though the mention of the full moon makes something harden within me, I keep the smile on my face. “What do I smell like now?”

“Mine,” he growls in my ear.

***

There are about thirty Wolves gathered in the small courtyard when we arrive, and the night is filled with excited chatter. Everyone wears a dark cloak or coat—which Callum told me is tradition for this night. Callum threads his fingers with mine and pulls me through the crowd toward Blake.

The Lowfell alpha leans against the castle wall, in conversation with Jack. When the cold wind whips my hair and stirs my cloak, Blake’s nostrils flare. A look of distaste flickers across his expression which he quickly hides. I’m glad the cold disguises my flush. Blake clearly knows exactly what we were just doing. From Jack’s smirk, he does, too.

“Excellent, you’re both here.” Blake’s breath mists in front of his face, and he rubs his hands together. “Are you ready?”

“Aye,” says Callum. “When can we expect Lochlan and his clan?”

A short distance away, Alfie punches an unfazed Arran with his tiny fists, much to the exasperation of Elsie, who tugs him away by his collar.

“He’ll meet us up at Dawn’s Craig,” says Blake.

My gaze snaps to Callum. “The ceremony isn’t taking place at Lowfell?”

“No,” says Callum. “We’ll hike up a nearby mountain so we’re closer toGhealach.”

A small thrill ignites beneath my skin. I’ve felt claustrophobic since we got here, and I long to explore more of the Northlands. I still ask the question. “Is it safe to leave?” Callum doesn’t seem to trust the alpha who will be arriving tonight.

Callum squeezes my hand, as if sensing my worry. “Bloodshed is forbidden during the night of Oidhche Fhada. It’s wolf law. Unbreakable. You’re safe, Princess.” He brings his mouth to my ear. “Plus, you smell like me, remember?”

Blake pushes off from the wall. “Time to go.” He throws his arm up in the air to gesture to the other Wolves as he walks toward the tunnel that leads to the grounds.

More chatter fills the air as we follow him through the courtyard and outside of the castle walls. Wild grass tickles my hands, and mud squelches beneath my boots as the group of us cross the unspoiled land toward the nearby mountains. Only the soft glow of the half-moon lights our way.

I can’t help but smile as we all make our way to Dawn’s Craig to perform the Oidhche Fhada ritual.

Chapter Eight

I’m unused to hiking, particularly at night.

My thigh muscles ache, and I stumble on jagged protruding rocks. I’m quickly breathless. Despite the chill in the air, sweat beads my skin. I lag at the tail of the group while Callum, just ahead of me, jokes around with Ryan and Becky. With his muscles and wolf strength, I’m sure it doesn’t occur to him that the climb may be a struggle for a human princess who spent most of her time sitting indoors sewing, or preening, or playing the piano.

Despite my discomfort, a smile plays on my lips. The air is so fresh I can taste it. The scents of rain-drenched grass, muddy earth, and the occasional whiff of animal feces travel in the wind. Childlike excitement bubbles in my chest when I spot a sheep grazing on the mountainside.

When I look over my shoulder, Lowfell Castle is a mere dot in the darkness, surrounded by rippling water that reflects the moonlight. My breath catches, and freedom fills my lungs. Despite everything that has happened—being attacked by James, Blake linking our lives, his plot against Callum—I’m glad to be here, rather than in the Southlands.

Blake’s contrived laugh slices through the darkness and sets my teeth on edge. He’s at the head of the group, speaking to Arran, Jack, and an older gentleman in a black-and-grey kilt. The small boy, Alfie, runs circles around them. My mouth pinches at the corners.

“You don’t like Blake, I take it?” A smooth male voice, thick with the Northlands accent, makes me jump. A tall member of Blake’s clan falls into step beside me. The hood of his cloak hides his face. “He tends to have that effect on people.”

“Does he have that effect on you?” I ask, curious about what members of Blake’s clan actually think of him.

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