The Wolf King (Wolf King, #1)

by Lauren Palphreyman

“I had fun last night, little rabbit.” Blake’s lips curve into a smile. “We should do it again sometime.” Callum gets up, water running down his arms, and crosses the room in a couple of strides. He grabs Blake by the collar of his shirt, and slams him into the wall.

Hehehehe

“She died of a disease,” I snarl. “Did she?” says Blake. “Out.” Callum growls. “Now.” Blake steps back into the corridor. “Wait.” I cringe at the desperation in my voice.

We are not alone in the forest. He nips my ear with his teeth and a spark of heat rushes through me. I moan as my back arches. My gaze locks onto the wolf, standing in the shadows. It crashes through the undergrowth toward me. My eyes jolt open.

“He could smell my dream?” “Ah, so you had a dream?” She grins. “I’m not sure exactly what happened. My guess is he sensed the shift in you and came to stand guard, in case any other Wolves sensed it too. Like Blake.”

AHHHHHHHHHHH

“Blake won’t tell anyone,” I say. “He’d better not.” “He hasn’t told anyone about me yet.” She gives me an almost pitying look, as if I’m being naïve. “He’s not doing that out of the goodness of his heart, Rory. He’s playing some sort of game.”

“And now you’ve come back.” “I can’t keep away.” There’s something so raw in his voice that my stomach jolts. “I wanted to show you. . .” Tentatively, he puts his hand on my cheek. “I wanted to show you I can be gentle.”

“Show me, then,” I say. His eyebrows raise. He smiles. He cups my cheek. He brushes his lips against mine. True to his word, he is gentle, restrained. Yet his kiss unleashes something violent within me. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, Princess—”

One of his hands slides into my hair and he tilts my head back. He parts my lips with his tongue, and a low sound scrapes against his throat and vibrates through my core as he tastes me. His scent of woodsmoke and the mountains floods my nose, and I am burning and drowning in him at the same time. A soft whimper escapes me. “Fuck.” His voice is rough and raw against my lips.

His kiss deepens as he backs me into the wall and slides his thigh between my legs.

My senses are heightened to everything—the grip of his fingers around my hips, the scrape of his stubble against my jaw, and the hardness of him. Wet heat pools at my core. Is this what it is like to be a wolf? So attuned to every sensation.

His kiss becomes more gentle. Urging. As if he’s coaxing me. “Don’t stop.” He presses a trail of kisses against my neck, leaving a line of fire that makes me whimper, then nips my earlobe with his teeth. “I can handle it. Don’t stop.” I see the wolf in his eyes.

I want to touch him, to coax more low, rough sounds from his lips. When I shift, and run my fingers down his chest, he presses himself closer to me—stopping me from slipping my hand between us. “I can’t handle that,” he says, with a dark, breathy laugh.

I stare at the closed door, my breathing ragged. I want to scream. I want to tear through the forest and howl into the wind. Instead, I do what I always do, and swallow it. I swallow the feelings and the hurt and the rage. I let the darkness wrap around me, the shadows dousing the flames in my soul, until I am cold and empty.

“Hello, little rabbit.”

Blake leans in the doorway. He’s wearing dark breeches and a well-fitting black shirt. He looks like a villainous prince from the kinds of stories my mother would tell me. His dark hair, slightly messy like he’s been running his fingers through it, only adds to the effect.

He seems to study me. He’s tall, and I have to look up. I feel like he’s challenging me, and I don’t want to back down. I cannot help the small burst of interest that sparks inside me, too. Like Callum, Blake is an alpha. He must be around the same age, too. He has the Southlands accent, and says he worked in the King’s Guard. How did he rise to such a high position among the Wolves?

I stare at Blake’s back as he thumbs through the books. “This was your room, wasn’t it?” I say flatly. “This is my room. I no longer reside here, but I use it for some of my most interesting possessions.”

“I knew he would be riding out to find his king soon. I just hadn’t realized he had gone yet. If you’re trying to create trouble, you will find none here.” The corner of Blake’s lip quirks. “Pity, I do enjoy trouble.”

Hehe

“Why are you here?” “I’m looking for something.” He slides a blue leather-bound book from the shelf. “Ah, here it is.” I don’t catch the full title, but I see the word lore in elegant calligraphy across the front, and a dusting of golden stars on the spine. He tucks it beneath his arm and walks to the door.

When they get no response, they back away, then scurry toward the Great Hall. Heart in my throat, I spin around. And I find myself face to face with Blake. I’m breathing fast as my mind races to process what just happened, what is still happening. “I. . . what are you. . .?” His gaze drops to the collar that now sits around my neck. His collar.

Hehehe

I reach for the collar. Blake’s fingers curl around my wrist before I can rip it off. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says.

“Did you ever wonder why I have a Southlands accent?” he asks. “My mother was a human. She lived just south of the Borderlands. One night, a pack of Wolves raided her village. One of them forced themselves on her, and the consequence was me.” His tone is smooth, like dark silk.

“I tracked him down, of course, many years later. He cried when I showed him exactly what he had created.” His eyes bore into mine, and inside them there is nothing but darkness. Yet I relax my arm in his grip. “There is nothing more deplorable than rape.”

He turns and walks away, torchlight and shadows flickering across his profile as he passes the sconces on the stone walls. “Come to my chambers at nightfall,” he says.

I sit cross-legged on my bed and examine the collar he put around my neck. It is black and featherlight, with a faint pattern on it made up of crisscrossing blacks and greys and other shades of night. It’s made of silk, and I run it through my fingers. At its center, there’s a black obsidian stone that absorbs the light from my candle.

Blake’s dark hair is messy, as if he’s been running his hands through it, and his skin is clammy. The top few buttons of his white shirt are undone and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to reveal corded forearms. His eyes are bloodshot.

As well as wolfsbane, I note lavender, dried chamomile, and some valerian root on his desk. I pick up a pot reading milk of the poppy. There’s a decanter full of clear liquid beside them, and when I sniff it, I wince at the pungent alcoholic odor.

The room lights up, and the force of the thunder makes the mountains tremble. Blake’s whole body hardens and a rough sound scrapes the back of his throat. “Fuck’s sake.” “Goddess! You’re afraid of the storm!” He removes his hands from his hair, and slowly looks up at me. “If you tell anyone, I will kill you.”

He walks across the kitchen and pauses in the doorway. His gaze is appraising as he looks me up and down. “You’re a devious little thing, aren’t you?” Strangely, it doesn’t sound like an insult.

Blake catches my eye from the alpha table and winks before going back to his conversation with Robert. Isla flees the Great Hall.

I am envious of the Northlands winds that rattle the window and howl against the stone walls. How good it would feel to unleash that rage with no thought to the consequences.

“Your note?” “Aye. I left it with—” His gaze drops to the black collar around my neck and his eyes narrow. “What’s that?” His voice is dangerously low.

“You know what it is,” I say. He swallows. “Why are you wearing it?” “Because you left me alone, and Isla—” “Did he hurt you?” His voice is rough. “No. He protected me.” Callum’s eyes flash with emotion. I cannot tell whether it’s anger or hurt. “Blake doesn’t protect anyone. Not without a price.”

“He is every bit as bad as I make him out to be! And I leave for a few days, and I come back, and you’re wearing his collar?” “I had no choice.” “I thought you said there was always a choice. And what? You chose him?” His voice is dark, and his breathing shallow. “Did he touch you?”

His eyes narrow. “Take. It. Off.” He has a wolf inside him. And I want to provoke it.

I burst into Blake’s room. He’s draped in an armchair by the window, and doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading—the blue tome with stars on the spine that he took from my chambers.

Lol me

“Please, do come in, little rabbit.” He flicks to the next page. “No need to knock.” “He’s hurt. You need to come. Now.” “What’s wrong with him?” “Wolfsbane.” His expression is unreadable, but he gets up.

“If this is how you wish to go, then don’t let me stop you.” He rests his forearms on the mattress and leans closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after your pet when you’re gone.” “Blake,” I warn.

Callum’s eyes flicker open for a moment. “You know, I haven’t decided how I’ll fuck her first.” Blake’s voice is low and seductive. “With my fingers, or my tongue.” Callum’s head rolls to the side and he grunts.

The corner of Blake’s lip lifts. “What do you think I should do? There are so many possibilities. Perhaps I’ll have her ride my face.” Callum growls, but the noise dies in his throat as his b...

Blake leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Or perhaps I’ll have her on her knees before me while I sit on James’s throne, my fist in her hair, her lips moving up and down my cock as I fuck her mouth.” Callum’s eyes jolt open. They are enraged, and they don’t...

He hooks his arm around my waist, pulls me onto his lap, and slams his lips against mine.

Blake gets the upper hand for a moment, and I almost stagger into the copper bathtub as they roll over on the ground. I dart aside, grabbing onto the mahogany bed post, as Callum pins him down and wraps his hands around Blake’s neck. “There he is,” says Blake, on a choked breath. Callum’s eyes are feral. All the muscles in his arms are pronounced. Fury ripples from him in waves. It is almost inconceivable that he was lying on the bed, close to death, just a moment ago.

“One of these days, Blake,” Callum murmurs. “Yes. Yes. I’m sure you’ll try to kill me.” Blake pushes himself to his knees. Callum grabs his wrist before he can get up fully.

“What’s so funny?” My breath mingles with his. “If I’d known getting injured would cause you to be so nice to me, I’d have done it sooner.” I pull back slightly, and frown. “Don’t say that.”

“I thought of you every hour I was away,” he says. “All I could think of was getting back to you. I shouldn’t have left you. I won’t do it again.”

“Do you truly think that?” His brow furrows. “Do you truly think I give a shit about Sebastian? That I would give him the slightest bit of consideration when it comes to you and me? Princess, I made a promise not to touch you because it’s the right thing to do. And it’s a promise that gets harder to keep every day, every hour, every second I’m around you. But I must. Because I took you.”

“I took you from your home, and your bed, and your people. I made you my prisoner, Aurora.”

When he meets my eyes again, mischief dances amid the darkness. “I never thought you’d ask me not to be a gentleman, Princess.”

Then he grins. In a sudden movement, he flips me onto my back and climbs on top of me—caging me between his arms. He brings his mouth to my ear, and I shiver as his warm breath touches my skin. “But I’ll be happy to oblige,” he whispers.