Page 66 of The Night Prince

While he’s distracted by Callum, I pick one up, curious about Blake’s reading choices. It’s full of sketches of monsters—winged beasts, half dead humanoid figures, a water creature with entrails curling out of its body like tentacles. My eyes lock with those of a serpentine creature, that—from the smudges around its scaled body—seems to wear shadows like a second skin.

There’s a mark on its tail. It’s the same symbol that is inked on Elsie’s wrist. When I turn the page, the mark has been drawn in greater detail on the end of a hot iron. These are Night’s prisoners, now bound to his prison in the sky. I wonder if Blake is taking the rumors about Night’s acolytes, and the Night Prince seriously. I put the book down.

Numerous bottles of liquor stand on his mantelpiece, and one rolls across the floor, near Callum’s feet as he continues to berate Blake.

The scent of lavender hits me, as well as another floral smell I don’t recognize. Dried purple and white flowers scatter the floor—among bits of parchment. The lavender provokes an ache, deep within me, and I pick up one of the sprigs and twist it between my fingers. My mother used to stitch it into pouches, and place them beneath my pillow before bed. She said they would help me sleep, and keep the nightmares away. I wonder if Blake uses it for a similar purpose.

I drop it, and it lands on a sketch of a labyrinth with a hexagonal center.

“Can you two put some clothes on, please?” I say.

Blake and Callum both shut their mouths. Callum looks over his shoulder sharply. His expression softens. He releases Blake, crosses the room, and crouches down before me.

Still unclothed.

I should be used to it by now, but heat stains my cheeks.

“Are you alright?” He cups my face in his big hand.

I keep my eyes resolutely on his as Blake walks to his armoire. When he opens it and pulls out breeches and a shirt, my resolve wavers and I look. Raised white ridges crisscross the muscles in his back. I overheard him tell Callum he was whipped for being a half-wolf.

“I didn’t shift,” I say.

A slow grin spreads across Callum’s face. “No. You didn’t. You’re not a wolf after all.”

I feel Blake’s emotion. That thread between us shudders, as if he is holding something back.

“You sound almost as relieved as I am,” I say. “Did you not want me to be a wolf?”

He brushes his thumb against my cheek. “I know it’s not what you wanted, that’s all.” I frown, because I’m not sure he’s being entirely truthful. “Come here.” He scoops me into his arms, and I reflexively hook my hands around his neck. Without a backward glance at Blake, he carries me out of the room.

“I hope you’re going to put some clothes on,” I say, as Callum carries me down the corridor.

“Don’t need them.” He kicks open the door to our chambers and grins. “Not for what I have planned.”

He drops me onto the bed, and I squeal. “Callum!”

“What?” he asks as he crawls over me, then drags his teeth along my throat. “You know, it would be nice if, for once, I could spend the morning after the full moon with younotsmelling like my worst enemy.” He shifts down and plants kisses on my collarbone, then my torso, and then between my legs through the fabric of my dress. I breathe in sharply. “Last time, there was not much I could do about it. This time, I plan to rectify the situation.”

“Is that so?”

He kneels on the mattress. His eyes glint when they meet mine—full of mischief. “I promise it will be very pleasurable for you.”

Who am I to deny him?

***

Callum makes good on his promise.

We spend the morning in bed, with him drawing moans from my lips until I’m liquid in his arms. And then he starts all over again. He remains careful with me, though. Gentle. His promise to unleash himself upon me after the full moon is nullified. I didn’t shift.

At noon, after getting some food brought up from the kitchens, he goes to meet with Lochlan and Jack to plan tomorrow’s ambush. I spend the rest of the afternoon reading in the armchair by the fire, my legs curled beneath me.

As the sky darkens, so do my emotions. I was scared to shift, but being a wolf gave me an explanation for my mother’s death, and a connection to her. It connected me to Callum, as well. I’m sure his high spirits this morning were linked to my inability to shift. I think he’s glad I’m still human.Still weak,that wild part of me whispers.

I drop the book I’m reading onto the chair. I walk to the window. The bloated sky is dark grey, and shadows shroud the peaks of the mountains. The water ripples in the wind.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s something inside me, pressing against my skin. I’ve felt it since James bit me. I keep falling into fever. Lochlan believes my mother was a wolf, and my father must have thought I was like her, because he had me whipped so I would suppress it. I wanted to bite Blake last night. I wanted to bite him this morning. I almost did.

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