Chapter Fifteen
C allum returns to Lowfell that evening. He joins me in our chambers as the sun is setting over the loch. Settling in one of the armchairs in front of the hearth, he tells me about his day. It’s drizzling outside, and his shirt is damp and clings to his muscular shoulders and torso.
Despite the bad weather, he’s in high spirits. Flynn, the alpha he went to visit, has promised to support him when he goes head-to-head with James.
“I knew he would have my back,” says Callum. “I’ve known him for years. He was my first friend when I moved to the south.”
I don’t bother telling him Madadh-allaidh is hardly “the south”. I know he thinks anywhere below Highfell is southern. I tell him about my day, too. He frowns when I tell him what I overheard about the chapel.
That night, Callum makes love to me softly and slowly before we fall asleep in each other’s arms. The next morning, I wake up restless.
The sun has not yet risen, but I can’t get back to sleep. My dreams were agitated. I found myself stalking long endless corridors, past barred cells shrouded in darkness, with the ominous feeling that something bad was following me.
I have tasted freedom here, in the Northlands. But my dreams make me wonder if I still feel trapped—caught in a game between alphas I have little control over. The fact that the new Borderlands lord seems to have resumed the search for me makes me feel even worse.
I wonder if, when I slid the blade across Sebastian’s throat, some vengeful seed was planted in my soul. It longs to be watered, fed, to grow and spread its vicious thorns. I wish to coil my hateful vines around James and my father. I want Blake on his knees, defeated and gasping at my feet.
I glance at Callum. He’s lying on his front, covers pulled down to his waist as if he got too hot in the night—despite the chilly air. He looks gentle now. His dark-sand colored hair is mussed, his lips plump and soft, his body rising and falling with each breath. When James had threatened me, though, those relaxed muscles had tensed and he had become a hard, angry force. When Blake bit me, I thought he was going to kill him.
I know he won’t let me put myself at risk. He will do anything to protect me, even if I want to be able to protect myself.
There is a childish part of me that wishes to incur Callum’s wrath, his full strength, in the way my enemies probably will. I want to see his sizeable biceps clench, and his jaw to harden, and that low growl to build in his chest because I have angered him. I want his eyes to flash with his wolf, enraged, and to meet him with my own wildness, which I always swallow. I want him to take his pleasure from me roughly, as if he’s not afraid that I’ll shatter or break.
If he did, I would know he thought me equal to him. Someone unafraid of the parts he keeps hidden. Someone capable of looking after herself. Without thinking, I bite the edge of my fingernail, and the tang of blood creeps into my mouth.
Lochlan said Callum enjoys damsels. I don’t wish to be a damsel.
I noticed yesterday that Ian and some of the other members of Lochlan’s clan seemed hostile. I want to make sure I can protect myself.
I slide out of bed. Callum stirs beside me, a soft growl scraping against his throat, but he doesn’t wake. The floor is bitingly cold on my bare feet and my legs, and I hurry over to the armoire—quietly opening it to pull on breeches and a tunic. I put on my boots and pad out of the room.
Lowfell Castle is dark and quiet as I navigate the narrow corridors. There are a couple of servants stirring pots in the kitchens when I pass. They must have been brought here from the village to accommodate Lochlan’s clan. I keep my head down, turn down a long corridor, then hurry down the stairs to the infirmary.
I listen to make sure Blake is not inside, then open the door.
The underground room is smaller than the infirmary at Castle Madadh-allaidh. There’s only space for one cot in the center, and a workbench and chair in the corner. The walls feel close together, partially due to the amount of pots and vials that are set upon the shelves. The air is thick with a musty damp scent, and a hint of blood. My stomach turns when I remember that Blake killed Bruce, the former Lowfell alpha, in here.
The log in the stone hearth against the far wall has not yet been lit, and I rub my arms as the cold seeps through my sleeves.
I head to one of the shelves, scanning the labels on the glass jars— Milk of the Poppy , Mint , Moonflower , Motherwort . They’re organized alphabetically. I stroll to the other side of the infirmary, and smile when I read White Poppy , Willow Bark , then Wolfsbane .
The bottle of poison is too high for me to reach. I have drag the wooden chair from the corner, and stand on it, so I can pull it from the shelf.
I step back onto the ground, almost knocking over a jar on the lower shelf, and inspect the bottle. It’s not the herb itself within, but a clear liquid version of the poison. About half has been used already, and I wonder who Blake has been poisoning.
There are some empty vials on the workbench, and I grab one and uncork the bottle. The pungent herby scent stirs bad memories of my mother’s bedchambers, and my throat tightens. My father poisoned her with this. He then poisoned me with it for years after, small doses every day to try and suppress the wolf he suspected lived inside me.
I tip some of the liquid into the empty vial, cork it, and put it in my pocket. I pick up the next vial and start filling it.
“That’s not for me, is it?” Blake’s drawl comes from behind me.
Wolfsbane sloshes onto my hand and I curse under my breath before spinning around. Blake is leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest and an amused look on his face. With his dark hair and clothing, he seems to seep into the infirmary shadows.
His gaze takes in my wet hand. I drop the second vial into my pocket. I won’t dignify his question with a response.
A dimple punctures his cheek. “If you’re looking to murder someone...”
I raise my chin and stalk past him. He grabs my wrist, his fingers like a vice around the bone. I spin around, and bring my face close to his.
“Get your hands off me,” I snarl.
His scent floods me. “Don’t you want to know why I did it?”
“I know why you claimed me. You did it to provoke Callum.”
“I have no interest in provoking your master, little rabbit.”
I narrow my eyes. “To provoke me, then.”
“Not everything is about you.”
I turn my expression to stone. “No. You’ve made that clear. I’m nothing but a pawn in your little game of kings, to be moved around as you see fit.”
“You could have been a queen. I gave you that choice. You still could be.”
“If I ever become a queen, it will be without your help.” I yank my arm out of his grip . “ You bit me. ”
“I de-escalated a situation.” He steps closer, and invades my space. “We are not ready to fight James yet; Callum is not ready to fight James yet. You were about to go with him. I felt you.”
I’m forced to look up. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. What else was I supposed to do?”
“You had limited choices, as did I. If you’d gone with him, Callum would have overreacted. I had to play the villain to stop you from playing the hero.”
“Have you considered that you did exactly what James wanted you to do? That James might have come here specifically to cause trouble between you and Callum?”
“Of course I have,” he hisses. “Why do you think I gave you the moonflower? I don’t want that territorial oaf getting worked up about it and acting irrationally. I don’t want other people to think you’re mine, either.”
“Good. Because I’m not yours.”
“Do you think I want you as part of my clan? You’re...” He looks me up and down and I feel the weight of his gaze on my body. “A liability.”
My muscles tighten as I lock down my emotions. I can’t believe he has the audacity to call me a liability when he’s plotting against us. “And you’re a manipulative, obnoxious snake.”
His face is close to mine. “At least I’m not a brat.”
My cheeks heat as my blood runs hotter. “ A brat? ”
“Yes. A brat.” There’s a gleam in his eye now, as if he was fishing for a reaction and is pleased he has got one. “You’re behaving quite the opposite of how you should when I’ve saved your skin yet again.”
“How, pray tell, should I behave when you sink your teeth into me like a bloodthirsty brute? Should I fall to my knees and thank you?” His smile widens and I have to suppress my snarl. “Yes, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I should have expected no better from a sadist. Is that how you like your females, Blake? Weak-willed and pliant?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Is that how you like your men?” There’s something pointed in his tone, as if he thinks this of Callum. My fingers curl into fists and my nails dig into my palms. His voice drops to a dark caress. “I bet he’s so gentle with you, isn’t he? So afraid you might break.”
My blood is wildfire, and my skin burns. I feel another wave of the fever coming for me, and I can’t push it back. “How dare you speak to me in that way.”
My senses are heightened. The scents of the infirmary overpower me—herbs and blood and Blake. I can see each individual eyelash fanning against his cheek, each fleck of gold in his irises. His heat wraps around me, and through it all, I hear another heartbeat, competing with my own like a war drum in my ear.
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Blake’s face. He grabs my chin. “Oh, hello, little wolf,” he says. A wave of panic rises through me as I wonder if my eyes have changed.
I grab his wrist, and though he doesn’t release me, his breathing shallows. A hiss fills the air, and I remember the wolfsbane I spilt on my skin. It’s burning him. Though my heart is beating fast, though there is something unsettled in my chest that longs to break free, I smile.
“And I’m the sadist?” he whispers.
I’m about to retort, when I realize that though his skin is burning, I don’t feel it. My brow furrows, and he tilts his head to one side as if he’s trying to read whatever emotion I’m feeling.
I kick him in the shin. Hard. I yowl as pain flares in the same spot, and my wrist feels as if it’s on fire. Blake makes a low, startled sound in the back of his throat and releases me. Both of us stagger back a step. My senses return to normal. The backs of my eyes sting.
“What was that for?” he asks.
“Do I need a reason?” I fold my arms. “I hate you.” I don’t want him to know about my discovery. His whole plan relies on Callum not wanting to hurt him in case he hurts me, too. He must feel my flicker of triumph, though, because he laughs.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You didn’t feel my pain because I decided you wouldn’t.” My shin stops throbbing, and my wrist feels as if it has been dowsed in cold water. “See? But I can bring it back. So don’t get any ideas.”
“Why did you stop me from feeling it?”
He shrugs. “To see if I could.”
“How?”
“I caged my pain.” He stares at my hand and I feel a pulse of his curiosity. “The more pertinent question is why doesn’t wolfsbane burn you? It gave me a rash even before I was bitten.”
“I was dosed with it throughout my childhood. Perhaps I’m immune.”
“I dose myself with it too, and yet I cannot counter the effects entirely.” He shows me his wrist—the skin is red and bumpy, as though he’s been stung by a nettle. “Perhaps if you’ll allow me to run some experiments on you—”
He grabs my wrist, and I stagger back. “Absolutely not!” Even if I’d not seen his ghastly books, filled with the horrible things he did to Wolves to sate his curiosity, I would not do anything to appease him. “Stay away from me.”
I try to pull away, but his fingers tighten. The amusement in his eyes disappears, and that dark thread pulses around my soul. I follow his gaze to my fingers. My cheeks flush. My fingernails are torn, and there are bloody tracts down the sides where I’ve ripped off skin with my teeth. It’s a habit I didn’t used to have, I’ve just been feeling anxious, lately.
“Let me go!” I jerk my hand from his grip.
His expression becomes nonchalant once more. I could almost believe I imagined his reaction. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you scared?”
I tilt my chin up. “Of you? No.” I probably should be—considering who he is and all he has done.
His gaze dips to my pocket, where the vial of wolfsbane is cool against my thigh through the fabric. “I’d keep that on you at the feast tonight. I don’t like the way some of Lochlan’s clan are looking at you.”
That’s why I got it in the first place, you patronizing snake , I want to snap at him.
Heart thumping, I turn my back on him and head up the stairs.
Some of my tension unwinds when Callum rounds the corner at the other end of the corridor. “I was looking for you...” His eyes darken when Blake emerges. They haven’t spoken since Blake bit me. Both men halt, Blake only a few feet behind me, his body heat warming my back. “Blake.” Callum’s voice is low and guttural, almost a growl.
Blake’s expression is unreadable. “Callum.”
Callum’s features are like stone. “I know you’ve never had a father to teach you such things, but biting a woman without her consent is not how a real man behaves.”
Blake goes completely still. His handle on his caged feelings flickers, and my vision temporarily darkens as his emotions flood me. He’s upset. Callum’s blow has landed. I remember what he told me once, about how his father forced himself onto his mother.
“No?” Blake says, his voice like shadow. “Speaking of biting, have you seen your little pet’s fingernails, lately?”
It’s Callum’s turn to still. A muscle flexes in his jaw as his gaze snaps to my hand. Heat floods my face as I curl my fingers into a fist. Callum’s throat bobs. I don’t know why, but Blake’s jab seems to have hit Callum just as hard.
Blake strides past me, then Callum. He turns. “If you want to keep a pet in my castle, Callum, look after it.”
He disappears around the corner.
Callum takes a deep breath, then crosses the space between us. He takes my hand, gaze taking in the torn skin around my cuticles. I try to pull away, but he laces his fingers with mine and tugs me toward the end of the corridor.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“Come on,” he says softly. He leads me back to our bedchambers.
When he has shut the door, Callum runs a hand over his mouth, then sighs. “There are a few things I need to tell you about Wolves.”