The Wolf King (Wolf King, #1)

by Lauren Palphreyman

“Ghealach,” he curses under his breath. “Your feet.” Above, the clouds shift, illuminating the valley and the moonlit loch. My gaze is fixed on the alpha. He’s looking at my bare feet and a flicker of something. . . shame, perhaps. . . crosses his face. “You’re hurt.” He swallows, shaking his head.

“Forgive me, Princess. I forget sometimes, how fragile humans are.”

“Shouldn’t you be putting up the tent?” “The tent?” “I thought we were staying until morning. Where am I going to sleep?” A slow smile spreads across his face. “You can check for a four-poster bed in there if you like, Princess. But I’m pretty sure I forgot to pack it.”

“You want me to sleep on the floor?” “Aye.” “Where are you going to sleep?” His eyebrows dip in confusion, before he nods at the ground. “You’re going to lie down beside me as if you were. . . as if you were my husband?” “Well. . . not exactly like that, no.”

“What is your name?” I ask, suddenly. “Callum.” His voice is soft, and lilts slightly, as though he’s surprised I asked.

I’ve been taken by the Wolves. Tomorrow, I’ll be presented to the mysterious Wolf King. And right now, I’m lying beside a man who is not my husband.

I feel Callum’s eyes on me for a moment longer, before he too looks toward the stars. “I told you he wouldn’t touch you,” he says.

What’s more, Callum has me tucked against his chest. He must have pulled me to him while he slept. I must have let him. Goddess! I try to shuffle away, but a soft snarl vibrates in his throat. My pulse quickens as I push at his heavy forearm. This time, his growl is low and dangerous. His fingers are splayed across my torso, holding me to him.

He’s handsome, I suppose, in a bloodthirsty warrior kind of way.

I focus on the mountains that surround us instead of the crease on the side of Callum’s face where the grass has left a mark, or the soft smile playing on his lips.

“You know, I could get completely naked right now and jump into the loch and the temperature would have no effect on me whatsoever,” he continues, as though I haven’t spoken. “In fact, you’re right. I am caked in dirt. I think that’s exactly what I’ll do.” “Don’t you dare!” I demand as he gets up and tugs his filthy shirt out of his kilt. “My dirtiness is clearly offending you, Princess.”

He laughs at that—loudly and unabashedly. “Very well, Your Highness. Don’t take too long. The water’s cold and it’ll be noon before we arrive at the castle. That’s a long time to be shivering. Although, I’ll happily warm you up again after.” His teasing tone provokes something that sounds almost like a growl from me. It seems to delight Callum.

“Cold, Princess?” “If you were a gentleman—” “Not a gentleman.” He grins. “Wolf.”

Ahh

“How does one become the Wolf King, anyway? I thought you had alphas, not kings.” He tears off a chunk of his bread and chews. “We do. The alphas lead their clans. And the king is the alpha of the alphas, I suppose.”

“Do you. . . do you really eat people?” His eyes widen. He looks me up and down, and I feel naked under his scrutiny. “As much as I’d enjoy feasting on you, Princess, I will refrain,” he says.

ahhhh!!

The sun has risen now, and the sky is a bright morning shade of blue. The mountains around us are unspoiled and there are different shades of green everywhere. To our left, the sun glints off the surface of the loch. The air smells like pine and woodsmoke; it’s so different to the dirty smells of the city. I breathe it in deeply.

I have always thought of rain as an equalizer of men. It doesn’t matter if you’re dressed in rags or finery, the rain will soak you and make you look smaller all the same. It is different with Callum. It is like the rain strengthens him. Water rolls off his kilt, and his tree-trunk calves are muddy. His shirt sticks to his muscles and emphasizes how big they are.

He is looking at me as though I am the strangest, most wonderful thing he has ever seen. There’s a broad smile on his face, and it’s that, more than anything, that makes me realize how dangerous this man—this wolf—is.

I’d be demure and sweet, or fun and flirty, or a tempting prize to be won. I would be more confident about meeting the Wolf King if I had access to my finery and my costumes. But at least if I can change out of my nightdress, I can make myself somewhat presentable.

A rumor I heard the ladies-in-waiting whispering back at the palace comes back to me, about how Wolves wear no undergarments beneath their kilts. I stiffen. If that is true, he is sitting way too close to me.

“Aye. I let him disobey me because I knew about the lass he wanted to save. I was too soft on the lad.” “Dislocating someone’s arm is hardly taking care of them, nor being soft!” “It’s better than killing them for your betrothed’s amusement!” His tone is harsher than I’ve ever heard it, and cool shame floods my system.

“You couldn’t possibly know I would do that.” “I didn’t,” he says. “Not for certain. But I could smell your fear, and hear your heartbeat. I could sense your repulsion of the men sitting beside you, and I could feel you didn’t want to be there in that hall. And yet, you didn’t show it. And when your eyes met mine, I could see the steel in them. I could see the determination, and the strength, and the fire in your soul. Most people would’ve looked away from me if I’d looked at them the way I looked at you, but you didn’t. And I felt the hatred in that gaze. You hated everyone in that room, and you hated me. Goddess, you hated me. You hated me for what I was about to do to the lad.” He lets loose a half-laugh that sounds almost like a growl. “No. I didn’t know for certain. But I was pretty sure.”

AHHHHHHHH

“I noticed something else about the way you were looking at me, Princess.” His voice is lighter, almost teasing. My eyebrows knit together. “What?” “You thought I was handsome.” His voice is alight with amusement now. I can hear the stupid grin on his face.

Hehehe

“There she is,” says Callum. “Castle Madadh-allaidh. No doubt the rest of our party will have alerted the king that we’re on our way. Are you ready, Princess?” I swallow, steadying my writhing nerves. I will myself to be stone. No, steel. I nod. “Yes.”

The castle courtyard is full of Wolves. They look like men and women, but I know what lurks beneath their skin.

Even though most of the Wolves are openly staring at us, his gaze doesn’t move from mine. There’s something so still in it that it eases the panic rising in my chest.

He halts and looks at me searchingly, his head tilting to the side. His smile broadens. “What?” I fold my arms across my chest. “So that’s what that was all about.” “What are you talking about?” “You know, Princess, that as a wolf, I have exceptionally good senses.” His eyes glint in the torchlight. Then he starts moving again. “You were jealous,” he says.

I was. . . caught by surprise when he hugged that woman. That’s all. He’s a wolf! An enemy! I was not. . . jealous he might have someone back home.

“Can you blame her?” I swivel round to face him. “I have done nothing to her. And she looked like she wanted to kill me.” He sighs. “You’re a human, Princ—” He stops himself from saying my title. “Rory.”

“Kayleigh’s father was killed by Sebastian’s army in an attack on their village, just north of the Borderlands,” he tells me as we navigate the gloomy corridors. “Her mother was taken—she’s presumed dead too. The humans burned the whole village. That girl, she barely escaped with her life. So, aye, she doesn’t like humans very much.” “That. . . That’s awful.” I say.

“Anyway, that’s why I didn’t tell Fiona who you really were. As Wolves, our hearing is a lot stronger than yours. If I’d have told her, the whole courtyard would have known you were the daughter of our enemy king, and betrothed to a man who has single-handedly tortured and killed many of our people.” “Oh,” I say, softly. “They would have turned on me instantly.” “Aye,” says Callum, darkly.

“I’m fine,” I say. “You’re not fine. There’s no need to put airs on around me. We know each other too well now.” He carries me to a first-floor landing, leading me past a number of closed doors. His green eyes glint. “I mean, we’ve already slept together.” Heat floods my cheeks. “Don’t you dare go around saying things like that!” “But it’s true!”

Lmaoooooo

The fabric is thick red tartan, the same as Callum’s kilt. I hope that this is a good choice. Callum said he looks after his own, and it makes it seem like I am part of his clan. I only worry about what his actual clan will think of me wearing their colors. If Isla is anything to go by, they won’t be happy.

I look wild. How can I possibly face a king looking like this? How can I possibly face Callum looking like this?

I am strong. I am stone. I am a statue.

“I was going to say you look like a wolf.” “That’s not a compliment!” He grins. “But you do look nice.” “So you’re a liar as well as a killer?” “I’m only one of those things, Princess.”

“I saved you!” The corner of his mouth tilts. “You caused a minor distraction, I suppose.”

I cannot believe he is referring to the single most outlandish thing I have ever done in my life as a minor distraction. I have only known Callum for a couple of days, yet he is already the most irritating male I have ever encountered.

The different stages of the lunar cycle are carved along the stone walls. There’s a set of double doors at the end of the corridor with a colorful coat of arms hanging over it, depicting a wolf and a moon. That must be where we are heading. I wonder if the man behind those doors will be cruel like the king I know.

He’s the Callum who was in that dog-fighting ring—still and solid. A warrior. His biceps bulge against his sleeves. He pushes me against the wall, and presses his palm over my mouth. I inhale sharply. He doesn’t move for a moment and his heat burns me. He puts a finger to his lips, and I nod.

I can face the Wolf King. Even if he is so fearsome that males like Callum have submitted to him.

There are fiery sconces on the stone walls, interspersed with carvings of lovers and Wolves and wars and moons. They might depict the story Callum told me about the Elderwolf and the Moon Goddess. A large green patterned rug is lying across the flagstones, faded where feet have walked across it. The air smells like woodsmoke, even though there is no fire lit in the grate. A thread of cold daylight comes in through the narrow window.

My gaze snags on another male sitting further away from them at the end of the table—the only one who is not looking at me. He’s sitting with one arm over the back of his chair as he peels an apple with a small knife. He is strikingly handsome, with a sharp jawline and dark hair. Unlike the others, he is wearing breeches, not a kilt.

Ooop who is he??

It is only the dark-haired man draped over the chair at the end who seems disinterested in my fate.

A crunch momentarily distracts me as the man at the end of the table bites into his apple. His eyes are on me, now. Glinting. Callum shifts so that his body shields me from him—even though the man posing as the king is clearly the bigger threat.

“Oh, let him keep his pet.” The man at the end of the table finally speaks.

The dark-haired male leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, little rabbit, I was in your king’s army, once. Perhaps we’ve already met.” There’s something pointed in his words and my whole body stills. Does he know who I am?

Callum stops outside a room. “I’ll keep you safe, Princess. You have my word.” “And what? You’re just going to fight every single wolf in this castle, are you?” “If I have to.”

There is a large armoire on one wall, and a chest at the foot of the bed. The dark wooden floor is covered with a tartan rug, the same color as his kilt. Above his headboard hangs an oil painting of a rugged landscape. There’s a copper bathtub, filled with steaming water, in front of the fire in the hearth. I look at it longingly.

“Who is he?” His expression darkens. “His name is Blake. He’s the most dangerous male in the Kingdom of Wolves, and he has the power to either help us, or destroy us. There’s a feast tonight. I’ll speak with him then. And I need you to come with me.”

Smash