The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

I sit on the edge of Callum’s four-poster bed and wait.

All my life, it seems, I have been waiting for something. Waiting to be dismissed by my father, waiting to be wed to the highest bidder, waiting to be seen. To be heard.

To be used.

To be free.

I have been waiting for Callum, now, for days.

I am tired of waiting.

Since he’s been gone, something wild and ugly has sprouted in my chest and grown thorns.

I knew he would need to leave at some point, but he left without saying goodbye. He kissed me then abandoned me. He left me to the Wolves.

What’s more, he left to retrieve the Wolf King, who will either trade me for the Heart of the Moon in the coming days or realize I’m of no value to him, and execute me. What is to be my fate, now he is here?

It’s always been part of my plan to be sent back to my people. I wanted to make a trade of my own with my father; information on the Wolves, and the Wolf King himself, in exchange for my freedom. I have plenty of that now.

The more time I’ve spent with Callum the harder I’ve realized that will be. I do not want to betray him. In fact, I’d started to wonder whether I wanted to leave him at all.

I wonder now if I have been foolish, and misinterpreted his affections like a naïve princess with a silly crush.

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.

My muscles tighten when footsteps approach the door. It bursts open, and my breath catches in my throat.

Callum stands in the doorway, and he looks every bit the fierce warrior I feared he was when I first met him.

He is covered in dirt and blood and gore. His shirt is drenched in it and sticks to his muscular torso and chest. There’s mud smeared across his face, and it has dried in his hair, slicking it back from his forehead.

His breathing is fast and agitated, but when he sees me, a broad grin spreads across his face. It is infectious. I have to fight the twitch at the corner of my lip.

“There you are!” he says. “I was worried when you weren’t in your chambers and I found this.”

He lifts up his collar, and the red stone glints in the firelight.

“I . . . where did you find that?”

His forehead furrows. “It was beside your bed.”

I grit my teeth as he shuts the door and places it on the small table by his armchair. Isla must have slipped into my chambers when I came down here.

He turns and looks at me, his brow creasing. “Is something the matter?”

I let out a laugh—sharp like splintered glass—and his frown deepens.

“You’ve been gone for days, Callum, and you’re truly going to ask me that? Have you forgotten I am the princess of your enemy kingdom? That our people are at war? That your people despise me?”

That you left me alone after the moment we shared.

His eyes sharpen. “Did something happen while I was away?”

“Does it matter? You still left!”

His expression softens beneath the grime. He steps toward me and when I tense, he halts. He sighs, rocking back on his heels and leaning back against the table.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t want to go. We got word that the situation had worsened not long after. . . after I left your chambers. The king could have died. I had to leave straightaway. I had no choice.”

I swallow. “There’s always a choice.”

“Not always. Not in this.”

“You chose not to say goodbye.”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck and winces. I note how his shoulders are slumped and he’s using the table to support himself.

Is he hurt? Has he slept? Is that blood his? Worry threads through my anger. I can’t back down, though. Not until I’ve had my say.

He meets my eyes, and there’s a plea within them.

“I’m sorry. If there was another choice, I would have taken it.” He shakes his head. “Did you at least get my note?”

“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.

I have never seen him stand so still. Irritation flares inside me. How can he be jealous when he left me to fend for myself?

“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.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that he’s not as bad as you make him out to be?”

“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?”

Rage jolts through my body, and I straighten. “How dare you ask me that.”

“Did he?”

I jump to my feet. “You left me, Callum!”

“Take it off.” The command in his tone makes my muscles tighten.

I step toward him. The scent of the outdoors and battle clings to him; wet earth and steel and mountains. “I am not one of your pack, and you have no right to order me around.”

He closes the space between us. I’m not sure if the heat that stokes me is coming from him, or whether it’s burning inside me, but my breathing is fast and my cheeks flame.

I’m angry. So angry. There is a wilder emotion inside me too. And it wants release.

His eyes narrow. “Take. It. Off.”

He has a wolf inside him.

And it want to provoke it.

“No,” I say.

He crashes to his knees and cries out. The unlit candle sitting on his small table falls onto its side, and the floorboards splinter beneath the strain of catching him.

“Callum!”

He grabs his shoulder. “Fuck.”

All the heat drains out of me, and I drop to floor in front of him. “You’re hurt.”

“I got shot. Silver. Thought I’d got all the bullet out.” He releases a soft, pained laugh. “Obviously not.”

I lift his chin. “Let me see.”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugs me away. “Don’t worry yourself, Princess. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

He lets me undo the buttons of his damp shirt, and I push it off his shoulders to reveal his strong, muscular chest.

My breath hitches at the sight of him.

He’s dripping with sweat, and it highlights the ridges of his torso, and his large biceps.

He was shirtless the first time we met, but then, the sheer size of him was threatening. Now, a completely different feeling stirs inside me.

Until my gaze moves to his shoulder.

The veins spreading from his bullet wound are black. It’s not healing, and I catch the scent of something herbal among the blood. Something that makes my stomach turn.

“It’ll be fine.” Callum’s eyelids are drooping. “I’ve been shot with silver before. My body will push it out, eventually. It’s just. . .” He takes a deep, wheezing breath. “Just a wee bit painful in the meantime.”

“Callum.” I try to sound gentle, but my heart is pounding. “The bullet had wolfsbane on it. You’re not going to heal on your own. I need to go and get—”

“No,” he growls.

“He has the antidote.”

Callum’s eyes blaze. “I’d rather die than have him in here.”

“No you wouldn’t, you stubborn wolf!”

I stand up, and he grabs my ankle.

“No.”

He’s so weak that when I jerk away, he has to slam his hand against the ground to stop himself from toppling over.

His chambers spin around me, and fear tightens around my heart.

I shake my head. “I won’t let you die.”

He looks up at me, pale and drenched in blood and sweat. There’s a plea in his eyes. Don’t do this.

“You’re going to be okay,” I tell him. “I need to get him.”

“Rory!” he roars after me.

I bolt out of his room, and run as fast as I can toward Blake’s chambers.