The Wolf King | A Fantasy Romance

Chapter Five

Twigs and stones dig into the soles of my feet as we run into the copse of trees that lead to the Western Gate.

The wind whips my hair into my face, and rain is falling between the branches, seeping through the thin material of my nightgown. The sound of howling and the clash of steel follow us, coming from the outdoor kennels somewhere behind us. The night is thick with the woody scent of fire.

I should be alarmed. Yet all my senses are trained on the alpha's hand, clasped around mine. I feel the ungodly strength in his fingers, and the callouses that make his hand so very different to my mother's, the only hand I have ever clasped before this one.

Heat seems to spread from the place where our skin touches and it travels up my arm.

I took his hand willingly. I don't know what that means, but he will not let go. I am certain of it. He let me make my choice, but now it is made, I have a feeling there is no going back.

A sweet burst of panic surges through me. Am I really going to do this?

The alpha turns and swings me off me feet and into his arms. I yelp, and reflexively hook my arms around his neck. His eyes latch onto mine—bright even in the darkness.

"No time for second thoughts, now, Princess," he says, rain running over his full lips.

"Put me down, you brute!"

"No."

He continues onward, through the nursery of ash trees.

Over his shoulder, thick smoke curls into the moonlight from the courtyard. More howls fill the night. And it hits me. This is not an escape attempt. This is a siege.

"You planned this," I say under my breath.

"Aye."

The blood in my veins turns to ice.

I may not want to marry Sebastian, but these are my people being attacked by Wolves. And I am willingly leaving with one of them. And he is a killer. They all are.

"Put me down!"

"You don't want me to do that."

The small gem of truth in what he says makes my insides twist. "You have no idea what I want."

"What do you want?"

A strange jolt of adrenaline—of something—floods my system. I don't have an answer. No one has ever asked me that before. And why should they? It doesn't matter what I want. Statues do not want, or feel, or need.

The alpha's eyebrows dip in question, or confusion.

"I want. . . I want you to put me down."

His gaze moves to the Western Gate that looms ahead, and the corner of his lip tugs up. "No you don't."

"You said I had a choice." Raindrops roll into my mouth.

"Aye. And you made it. And as you can't seem to tell me truthfully what it is that you want right now, I will take that as your final decision."

The Western Gate is open—though it should not be—and a group of men in kilts wait on horses in the shadow of the dark whispering trees beyond. They glance in our direction, and the alpha's arms tighten around me as he stalks toward them.

I open my mouth.

"I'm not leaving you, Princess. And that's the end of the matter." There's a dark finality to his tone. This is a man who is used to having the last word.

"You're a monster," I mutter—though I don't quite mean it. He's a killer, maybe. But I'm not sure he's a monster.

"Aye," he says just as half-heartedly. "So you'd better do as you're told."