The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(45)

My jealousy twists into annoyance, then fear. I don’t want to think about my body breaking and changing and my mind not being my own any longer. I want to be distracted.

I bet he’s so gentle with you. So afraid you will break.

I find myself thinking about what Blake would do to get what he wanted. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps, even after the full moon, we should not. . . act on our impulses.”

“What?” The word tickles my inner thigh.

I rest my elbow on the arm on the chair and put my hand over my mouth to suppress my smile. “You know, as a Southlands princess, I’m not supposed to bed anyone before marriage. I should probably honor that, going forward.” I catch the flash of the wolf in his eyes. “Perhaps I should not bed anyone again, until after I’m wed.”

“No sex before marriage? That’s how you do things in the Southlands?” His brow crumples, and I almost laugh.

“Yes. What do you think?”

I bite my cheek, sure he’s about to pounce on me, sure I’ve won my little game with him. His breath is warm against my skin, and his shoulders brush against my inner thighs when he raises himself up.

“Okay,” he says. “Marry me, then.”





Chapter Twenty





My mouth drops open. “Marry you? Callum, I was not. . . I was. . . I was just. . .” I fumble for the words. I was not joking, as such, but—

“I know what you were doing, Princess.” The soft glow from the fire flickers across his strong jaw. “You were trying to manipulate me. You should have known it wouldn’t work. If you wish to talk seriously about this, then let’s.” He brushes a kiss on the inside of my leg. “Marry me.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“What game is this?”

He huffs a laugh. “I don’t play games, Princess.”

“You’re. . . you’re proposing marriage?”

He slides a hand along the back of my calf. Mischief dances on his lips. “I’m on my knees, aren’t I?”

“This isn’t a joke, Callum.”

“I know. I want to marry you.”

“For sex?”

He grins. “That’s one reason. Aye.”

Darkness spreads in my veins. “Are you expecting a political alliance? With my father?”

“No.” He nips my thigh with his teeth. “In fact, I think he’d be rather displeased to know what this savage wolf wishes to do to his daughter.”

“Do you wish to send a message to the Southlands, by marrying their princess?”

“No.” He smiles. “I want you to be my wife.”

I cup his face in my hands. His skin is hot, and his stubble prickles my palms. He truly means this. A few months ago, the thought of marrying someone like Callum would have been beyond my wildest dreams. It still is. Yet something feels. . . off. I feel. . . hesitant.

“Your wife?” I say.

“Aye.”

“You want me to be yours.”

His expression darkens. “Aye.”

My muscles tighten. It’s about ownership. The flames burn in the fireplace, and the log crumbles to ash. I wonder if that’s all love is when stripped bare—people striving to own one another.

He swallows, as if he knows the direction of my thoughts. He takes my chin. “I’m a wolf, an alpha, and there are certain things I’m struggling with at the moment. I don’t want to feel this way. But my brother has marked you. Blake. . .”A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Blake has bound himself to you and claimed you as part of his clan. So, aye, I want you to be my wife. Mine.”

“Callum—”

“There is more to it than that, though. I want to be yours, too. I want to be your husband. Your equal. I want you by my side, challenging me, supporting me. I want a family with you, and to provide for you.” He takes my hand in his, and brushes his lips across my knuckles. “You don’t have to agree. You can marry me tomorrow—we can ride to Dawn’s Craig in the morning and ask the Priestess to do. Or we can marry in ten years. We don’t have to marry at all, if you don’t want it. I’ll still be here, at your side, striving to impress you until my soul sleeps with Ghealach and the stars. Think on it, okay?”

My mouth is dry, and my eyes burn. I nod, and squeeze his hands. “I will think on it.”

He smiles, wide and open. Then he drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He cocks his head to one side, as if coming to a decision, and mischief ignites within his eyes. I’ve seen this look on him before. It means trouble. The corner of my lip quirks.

“What’s that look for?” I ask.

“Perhaps I could give you a taste of married life, to help you make your decision.” In a sudden movement, he grabs my thighs and pulls my knees over his shoulders. “Just a taste. . .”

I gasp as I’m dragged forward in the armchair. “Callum!”

He pulls my underwear aside. “What?”

“I thought you couldn’t be manipulated.” My voice is breathy and doesn’t sound like it belongs to me. “It seems you’re doing exactly what I want.”

Slowly, torturously, he drags his tongue along my entrance. My hands find his head and my fingers curl in his hair to pull him to me.