Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Morwen
Ihave never worn anything like this before. I didn’t even know it was possible to make such gorgeous material.
The lovely gown drapes over my body, sliding along my hips like water over a rock as I move. The woman helping me, Nyxara, told me it was called silk. Along with the heavenly material is embroidery so fine I’m afraid to touch it too roughly.
I’m mesmerized by my reflection in the large mirror as I move, the fabric catching the light in the most ethereal ways. It shimmers as I walk. It looks like I’m being lit up by the moon itself.
“You look beautiful,” Nyxara says, nodding in approval at her work. I took a hot bath, my first ever, and let me tell you, I can get used to that. It beats bathing in the cold stream with the other women while immature boys peer from the bushes.
Nyxara washed my hair with a fine liquid soap she called shampoo—I can still smell it on my long, silky locks—and styled it in waves. It’s stunning.
If I had a crown on my head, I’d look like a queen.
The thought is absurd.
But it’s true. Dressed like this, I look the part.
“It’s time, Lady Morwen,” Nyxara says. She’s a young wolf shifter, probably less than two decades old, but she’s talented beyond belief. She never looks me in the eyes, but I keep catching her studying me curiously whenever she thinks I’m not looking.
I follow her out of my room and into the castle. It’s darker now and the stone hallway is lit up by torchlight, the flames dancing with the shadows where the light and darkness meet.
Nyxara walks in front of me and I study her firm, muscular body.
She’s tall and lean, with powerful muscles on her bare shoulders and arms. There’s a natural grace in the way she walks, her strides confident and powerful like she’s completely in tune with her body.
I’ve noticed that all of the shifters are this way.
Not clumsy and uncoordinated in the lovable way that humans are.
These shifters move like apex predators.
Nyxara looks stronger than any human warrior I’ve ever seen, and I wonder how the toughest of human men would fare in a fight with her.
And then it hits me.
She has a wolf inside her.
They all do.
The thought settles cold and heavy in my stomach as two more wolf shifters pass, both of them staring me down curiously.
I’ll have to watch myself around here.
The intricate politics of a castle are dangerous for anyone, let alone a helpless human amongst a pack of wolves.
“It’s not much farther,” she says as I fall behind. She stops to let me catch up. “Would you like me to carry you?”
I fight back a biting reply. How weak does she think we humans are?
“I’m quite capable of walking,” I say, marching past her. Although my feet are killing in these gorgeous shoes, and a piggyback ride sounds delightful.
I follow her down long stone corridors, my footsteps echoing softly, my pulse refusing to slow. We arrive at a heavy wooden door, which Nyxara opens before gesturing me inside. “King Alaric will greet you in here.”
“Thank you, Nyxara,” I say, smiling at her. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
She smiles back, bows her head, and leaves, closing the door without another word.
I get a chill as I look around the large room lit by the soft glow of lanterns. My gaze is immediately drawn to the enormous mural dominating the far wall.
It’s a battlefield.
Wolves and humans locked in brutal conflict, blood and steel and fur rendered in chilling detail. At the center stands a Wolf King, towering and victorious, holding the severed head of a human king by the hair.
Lovely.
The door opens behind me, and King Alaric walks in, looking larger than ever.
“I apologize for that,” he says with a frown. “I’ll have it changed at once.”
He’s not wearing his crown.
Without it, this seems more real. The crown was just… surreal. Like I was dropped into some wild fairy tale told to children before bed.
Like this, we’re almost equals. Almost. If you don’t count the tremendous size difference and the fact that he owns this castle, has servants, and is the proprietor of an entire kingdom.
His dark hair falls loose around his broad shoulders, thick and slightly tousled as if he spent some time washing and running his hands through it to try and make it fall just right.
I hate that he’s so handsome. Beauty always makes things so dangerous.
If he had been an old, weathered, ugly king, I could have lifted my chin, said no thank you, and taken the high road back to my village.
But those eyes… Gods, those gray eyes…
They change everything.
They throw logic and better judgment out the window.
Alaric is dressed in a finely tailored tunic and coat that is perfectly fitted to his large powerful frame. The material in this place… Gods, it’s so luxurious. So soft. So beautiful. My fingertips tingle as I imagine running them over the stretched cloth running across his solid chest.
“This mural was commissioned before I was born,” he says, standing beside me.
My whole body comes alive with him so close. It would feel so natural to slip my hand into his, but I don’t. I hold them behind my back just in case they start to get a mind of their own.
“To be honest, I forgot it was even here. I’ll have it destroyed at once.”
“That’s not necessary,” I say with a nervous chuckle. “It’s a historical piece. And it’s…”
I quickly look it over, trying to find something to compliment about it. I wince when I zero in on the tormented look on the face of the king’s severed head.
“…very… large,” I finally say. “I’m just glad that part of history is over.”
“As am I,” he replies quietly.
He turns toward me and offers his arm. “Shall we eat dinner?”
“Yes,” I say, wrapping my arm around his gigantic bicep. “Although, I’d love a tour of the castle. I’ve never been inside one before.”
“Your wish is my command.” He smiles down at me and my breath catches in my throat. I can tell he’s not the type of man who smiles very often, if ever. It feels so intimate, like he’s showing me a peek into the real him. I’m getting a glimpse of the man behind the crown.
And I want to see more.
First, he brings me to the library where there are more books than I thought existed in the world. My mouth drops open as I look up at the towering shelves of old leather-bound books rising up to the high ceiling.
“Do you like to read?” he asks, those sharp gray eyes studying my face.
“I do,” I say, thinking of those crazy love stories I exchange with Lyris. Stories of women who fall in love with mermen in the ocean and flying men in the sky. Although after today, those stories don’t feel so crazy anymore. They kind of feel like instructional manuals.
He pulls out a thick leather book and blows the dust off it. “Soil harvesting techniques of the ancient Kralak,” he reads off the cover. “Have you read this one?”
I swallow hard and shake my head. “I don’t believe I have.”
He flips a few pages and then returns it to its spot. “These are all yours to read whenever you desire.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking around for the section with the fun, trashy romance books. I might have to start one…
We continue exploring the castle, walking along the ramparts outside where the stunning view of the land opens up beneath us, and I have to stop just to take it all in.
The stone railing is cool beneath my fingers as I look out over rolling green hills that stretch as far as the eye can see.
A few sheep dot the green grass in the distance.
Beyond the hills is the wild dark forest that spreads out to the horizon. That must be the real kingdom of this Wolf King. I shiver, wondering how many large, hungry wolves are roaming in that forest right now.
The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in bright, vibrant colors. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen the world from this high. This is how giants must view the land.
The entire scene feels unreal, like I’ve stepped into a story that’s meant to be read rather than lived.
I can feel King Alaric’s warmth beside me and I step a little closer to his hulking frame. He stands there stoically, surveying his kingdom with steely eyes, his dark hair waving in the cool breeze. This man was made to rule.
But I can’t help but wonder if what he said is true. Was he made for me?
And me for him?
I can’t deny the intense yearning I’ve been feeling. Even when I was getting ready with Nyxara, I was counting the seconds until I would get to see him again.
When we parted, I felt a strange sense of loss. Like one might feel after losing a limb. Like a part of me was gone.
It can’t be real though, can it? It must be an illusion. The crown, the castle, the servants, and the fine cloth. It must be tricking my mind. A mysterious means of seduction.
But when I watch him gazing out at his kingdom, and see the heavy weight of responsibility in his eyes at being in charge of it all, my heart aches for him. I want to help ease that burden in any way I can.
I can’t order around wolf armies or hold a royal court, but I can help him in other ways…
I can massage those stiff shoulders and make him feel at ease with my soft, womanly ways.
I can whisper encouraging words to him and be an ear for his deepest worries and fears that he is unwilling to tell anyone else. There is much I can do.
“This land has been in my family as far back as the written histories,” he says in that deep growly voice that I’m quickly becoming addicted to.
“Nine generations at least. Nine kings and queens, each royal pair faithful stewards of the Wolf Kingdom during their rule. I am the tenth king. And you, Morwen, my mate, will be the tenth queen.”
He turns and looks at me with so much love and adoration it makes me weak. Warmth blooms in my chest as he steps forward, towering over me, imposing, gorgeous, mine.
“I don’t know if I’m capable of all that,” I say, feeling a little queasy as I look out at the vast land stretching into the horizon. “That’s a lot to live up to.”
“Fate would not place the responsibility on your shoulders if you could not bear the weight,” he says. “You are capable of so much more than you know. I can see it in your eyes.”
I want to be good enough for him. I want to be the best queen this kingdom has ever seen. For him.
Those big hands slide onto my hips and he gazes into my eyes as he lowers his head. I step on my toes, my mouth searching for his.
“My queen,” he whispers, his sexy lips curling into a smile. “I do enjoy the sound of that.”
“So do I,” I whisper, realizing for the first time that it’s true. I do like the sound of it. I do want to be this Wolf King’s queen. I want to be his mate. I want to be his everything.
His hands tighten on my hips, anchoring me to him as our lips come together. I moan as I wrap my arms around his neck and taste his soft, warm mouth.
The gentleness only lasts for a moment. The next, his hand is sliding up my back and sinking into my hair, pulling me forward. I whimper and moan as his ravenous mouth claims mine. Hard. Unyielding. So fucking delicious.
He steals the breath straight from my lungs.
The kiss is nothing like I imagined.
There is no hesitation, no tentative testing. He takes my mouth like he takes everything else—decisively, hungrily, as if he’s been starving for this exact moment and can’t afford to waste a second. As if my mouth belongs to him by birthright like everything else in this kingdom.
I open my lips wider as he tilts my head back, gasping as he explores my mouth with his hot tongue. He groans like he can’t get enough of me.
The sexy growling sound sends a jolt of heat straight through me, right to my aching pussy, and I cling to him, fingers curling into the front of his tunic as he deepens the kiss.
His tongue slides against mine, demanding and thorough, and I melt into him with a soft, helpless sound I don’t even recognize as my own.
Gods.
This man…
I’m ready to drop to my knees in front of him. But not to kneel like everyone else. I’m ready to do other things.
His big, greedy arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I feel just how much he wants this—how hard and unyielding he is where our bodies meet. My knees go weak, my entire body lights up with a desperate, aching need that makes my head spin.
I can’t live without him anymore. I know it now. I’m his. He’s mine. That’s all there is to it.
I’ll stay in this castle. I’ll be his queen. As long as we get to kiss like this, I’m good with the deal.
I kiss him back just as fiercely, rising onto my toes and pressing my mouth to his with everything I have. Our tongues tangle, breaths mingling, the world narrowing to heat and hunger and the soft scrape of his beard against my skin.
My body ignites with a fierce lustful need I never knew it was capable of. I want more. So. Much. More.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark and blazing, his pupils blown wide with desire, and for a second, I’m certain he’s going to take me right here and now.
He takes several deep, steadying breaths as he clings to me, trying to get himself under control. I don’t want him to hold back. I want to see this sexy Wolf King losing all control for me.
“Gods…” he whispers, suddenly releasing me and abruptly turning away.
I’m dizzy. I’m shaken. Every nerve in my body is humming.
He takes violent, heavy breaths as he struggles to control himself.
“I am alpha,” he whispers to himself. “I endure.”
I run my hand over my forehead, wondering if this pulsing heat thundering through my body will ever cool down.
“We cannot continue like this,” he growls in a low, monstrous tone. “If we continue, I will not be able to stop.”
I stare at his big heaving back moving up and down with every savage breath and wonder what would be so bad about that.
“The moon is not right yet,” he says. “The Gods would not approve.”
I let him get control of himself as my body yearns and begs for more. A dark, naughty part of me suggests that I hike my skirt up and show him my legs. Another part urges me to tug down the front of my dress. Yet another tells me to bend over and pretend I’ve dropped something.
My body is aching to be claimed.
Instead, I follow his lead and take a deep breath, trying to be respectful. I don’t know what the freaking moon has to do with any of this, but I know there’s a lot to be learned about these wolves and their strange customs, as frustrating as they are.
“Three weeks until the next full moon,” he murmurs as he turns back to me, his voice thick with promise and restraint. “And then…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
He doesn’t need to.
Because the dark lustful look in his eyes tells me exactly what he’s planning to do to me when the full moon rises.
I shiver at the thought.
Three weeks can’t come fast enough.