The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(40)

This time, I feel him everywhere. His essence floods me—his scent, his heat, a dark unyielding dominance that I had not noticed before. I’ve always known him to be dangerous, but this. . . this power. . . The wolf is in his eyes, bright and beautiful, and I’m ensnared in his gaze. My pulse pounds as I fight the sensation, but all I can think of is my fever dream and the image of a rabbit in the maw of a great wolf.

I’d think he was doing something to me through the bond, but it feels slightly different. As if his command is slipping beneath my skin like a shadow, whispering, promising, coaxing. And when it strokes that feral thing inside me, that feral thing rubs against it.

It would be so easy to agree. So easy to do as he says. I want to please him. I’d do anything for him. He’s my alpha, and I want to—

I grab those shadowy fingers that coil around my soul and shove them away. The Great Hall comes back to me, the crackle of the fire in the stone hearth, and the scent of buttered salmon and red wine. The bagpipe music starts. That feeling dissipates on a breath, and my first instinct is to bare my teeth at him and snarl. My second is to gloat.

I make myself look dazed, and place my hand in his. I want him to think he has power over me, so later, I can use it against him.

Blake’s fingers curl around mine.

Where he touches me, my skin hums. The thread that links us seems to vibrate. I try to hide how my breath catches in my throat, and the way my pulse kicks up. His reaction is almost invisible, but his chest rises then falls, deeper than usual. His expression is too careful, too blank. He’s hiding, like me. He feels it too.

His eyes shift back to normal, though they glint like a cat who has found a mouse to play with. “Isn’t that interesting,” he says – and I’m not sure if he’s talking about his ability to use the ?ithne on me, or whether he’s talking about how taut and uncomfortable our connection feels.

He holds up my hand, as if claiming his prize, then leads me to the line of Wolves on the dancefloor. We stand at the end, beside Ryan and Becky. Ryan’s grin falters when he sees who I’m about to dance with.

The dance is much like the last, but slower. It requires changes in partners as the females move down the line, but every time I’m to take the hand of another wolf, Blake takes their place. Until, close to the end of the line, he stops the pretense that we’re part of this charade, and pulls me toward him.

The laughter and the clinking of glasses dims as he places a hand on my lower back. I reflexively put my palm on his shoulder, and my fingertips brush hard muscle. He pulls our bodies flush, and my breath dies in my throat. One hand still laced with mine, he spins me around.

He’s manipulating me, I remind myself. He’s going to take everything from me, including Callum. I have to stop him. I have to break this bond.

His movements are strong and graceful as we travel around the dancefloor, and again, I find myself thinking he’s a good dancer. He told me he was born in a village, a half-wolf who later became part of the King’s Guard. There is no reason he would be trained to dance.

“Why are you so good at dancing?” I ask.

“I said I had information about the bond, and that is what you wish to ask me?”

“Yes.”

He dips me, and my breath hitches as I curl my arm around his neck. “Why are you asking?” he asks.

“Because I’m the princess. While the men in the castle were trained to fight, I was trained to dance.”

He pulls me upright, and his breath mingles with mine. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Do you not like to dance?”

“That is not the point.”

“Kingdoms are not won by men fighting.” He twirls me under his arm, and my skirt flutters around my legs. “They are won by men dancing and manipulating others behind closed doors.”

“I’m not a man.”

“No. But I’m sure you could bring a kingdom to its knees.”

“That is your desire, not mine.”

He only smiles. I wonder if it’s a lie, that perhaps something inside me does wish to destroy and claim. To take something away from my father. I’ve felt the embers of something glowing in the pits of my soul since I found out what my father did to my mother.

“You’re avoiding the question,” I say. “How did you learn to dance?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I, too, was trained?” He cocks his head to the side. “Why do you want to know?”

“I can feel your emotions, and I know that you’re hiding something.”

“What of your secrets, little rabbit? I can feel you, too. I’ve sensed something within you, long before our lives were entangled this way.”

My breathing quickens, even though he’s talking nonsense. “Tell me about the bond.”

“Make me.”

My pulse thunders as some wild beast stirs in my chest. He’d implied he’d give me information if I danced with him. I should have known it was a lie. “You claim to be my alpha. That gives me a right to challenge you, doesn’t it? I could do it right here, in front of all these people.”

“Oh, please do, little rabbit.” His voice is as soft and dark as a shadow.

“Do you think I cannot win? You cannot harm me without hurting yourself. You would look like a fool.”

He dips me again, as if to prove he’s in control and I’m floundering off-balance. “I have endured much pain in my life. And I have caused much pain.”