Chapter Thirteen
T here are male voices in the corridor ahead, and I duck into an alcove on the way to the Great Hall, holding the pile of books close to my chest. There are five in total, all of different sizes, and one of them almost slips from my grasp.
“Is it under control, though, Blake?” A low, smooth voice. Jack. “You look like shit.”
I peer around the wall. Jack has his hand on Blake’s arm, and the two stand near the oak doors that lead into the hall. Despite my dislike of the alpha, I would not go as far as to say he looks bad. Blake’s hair is messier than usual, and his skin looks a little pale, but he’s still handsome, in his obnoxious way.
“How kind of you to say.” Blake rolls his eyes. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“I wonder why.” Jack’s tone is steeped in sarcasm. “Have you spoken to Arran?”
“On an almost daily basis, funnily enough.”
“Don’t be a prick. I meant about—”
“I know what you meant.”
“He might be able to help you manage things.”
Blake sighs, and I feel a pulse of his weariness—sadness, even. “Please. Arran is barely managing.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Jack exhales. “I’m worried about you. Last night, you shouldn’t have—”
Blake stiffens. I flatten myself to the wall. I feel him, then, that shadow inside me spreading its fingers. I try to push it back, to cage my emotions so he can’t feel me.
Blake whispers something I can’t hear. There’s the thud of footsteps, and they disappear through the doors of the Great Hall. I release a breath. I can’t help but wonder what Jack was about to say. Was he about to chide Blake for biting me, or did it have something to do with him threatening the Moon Priestess?
I wait for a couple of minutes because I don’t want to speak to either of them. Holding my books, I step out from the nook and make my way into the Great Hall.
There are three long tables within, set for breakfast, that create an open rectangle. Twenty or so Wolves wearing yellow tartan sit along one of them, eating and talking to one another. I walk toward the Lowfell table, where there is more space on the bench, and pick a spot at the end so I can keep an eye on Blake.
He’s talking to Lochlan at the table at the back, the crackling fire in the hearth casting his face in orange light. Jack sits beside him, and it strikes me as interesting that he’s allowed at a table I’d presumed was for alphas. Lochlan inclines his head at me, a gentle smile on his lips, and I return it.
I pile my plate with oily fish from one of the platters, and take a sip of water. On the other side of the hall, Ian—the blond male who James singled out last night—watches me, his fork paused halfway to his mouth.
My heart beats a little quicker. James said the Borderlands had taken Ian’s brother. Ian clearly sees me as an enemy, and I’ll need to be careful around him. I offer him a polite smile, then select one of the books from my pile.
Fighting every instinct I have to keep Blake out, I imagine the thread between us as a tangible thing, and I feel for him. If Blake sees me reading something that will bring me closer to the truth, surely he will react in some way.
I flick through an account of the battle of Glen Marb, the valley that Callum took me through when he took me from the Borderlands. I feel only boredom as Blake sinks his teeth into an apple. I set it aside.
The next book is titled Experiments: Book Three. It’s another of the horrifying tomes that I think Blake wrote. I glance up from the gruesome account of a wolf’s eyeball being melted from his skull. Goddess. Did Blake do this to someone?
Even though Blake is the image of ease, darkness prickles beneath my skin. He leans back in his seat, one arm slung over the chair, as he converses with Jack. I feel him though. Uneasy. He doesn’t like me looking at this book. I’m not sure if it’s because it reveals secrets about the bond, or something else.
I pull his darkness closer and try to decipher his emotion. The cold hollowness he emanates reminds me of how I felt after the High Priest beat me. It feels like shame. I think he feels guilty for torturing his fellow Wolves.
I put the book to one side so I can look into it in more depth later. I release a breath, and only then realize how Blake’s tension has wound its way around my body, squeezing like a deadly serpent
I pick up the book Elsie gave me, next. I flick it open, and skim through the pages.
It’s a love story, from the look of it, between a woman who works in the kitchens of a grand castle and the grumpy male who is the alpha there. I flush when I catch a rather intimate description of the two characters in bed with one another. Heat coils low in my stomach. Across the hall, Blake clears his throat. I glance up at him. He’s still talking to Jack and Lochlan, but one of his hands grips the edge of the table.
I go back to the story, flicking back the pages so I can read it properly from the start. Perhaps Elsie was making fun of me when she said it was enlightening. I get to the part where the alpha comes to the kitchens to tell the maid she looks good enough to eat.
A shadow looms across the page.
“Is Callum not satisfying you, darling?”
Every muscle in my body tightens and locks. Blake leans forward and tugs the book out of my hands. He flicks through, and stops at a random page. I feel his pulse of amusement.
“ The alpha slides his throbbing member into her wet folds... Aurora, darling, where did you find this? This is quite shocking.”
My cheeks flame. I grit my teeth and bite back my retort. I know he’s trying to get a reaction out of me, and I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“ He flips her over onto her stomach and thrusts his hips —”
I jump up, and knock the back of my knees against the bench. A few Wolves look in our direction. I collect my pile of books, slide along the table, and march toward the exit of the Great Hall. Blake pockets the love story and follows me.
“You’re not still upset about last night, are you?” he asks, and for some reason, the audacity of him asking me that question—the casualness in his tone, as if I have no reason to be upset that he bit and claimed me—provokes me more than anything he has done so far.
Rage erupts in my chest, stronger than the Northlands winds outside. My teeth ache and long to sink into something, into him . My knuckles whiten as I squeeze the pile of books.
He wants a reaction from me. I won’t give him one.
I swallow my emotion.
I storm out of the Great Hall.
I feel him watching me.