He runs a hand over the back of his neck, then he sighs.
“Look, Princess, like I said, the wolf hasn’t quite settled down,” he says. “And you’re in my bed, with the scent of another male all over you. And I don’t like that. I don’t like that one bit. I want you to smell like me. When another wolf is close, I want it to be my scent they smell on your skin. I want to mark you as mine. And I can think of countless ways I would do it. Countless ill-advised, highly pleasurable ways I would do it. It’s all I can think about. And I know I should leave and calm myself down. But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here, with you.” He shakes his head. “You smell so much like him. . . like Blake. . . It’s driving me out of my mind.”
I should leave before things get out of control. I shouldn’t allow a male so say things like that to me. I definitely shouldn’t like it.
I am held captive by his helpless gaze. Something hot is pooling inside me, heating my blood and making my skin hum.
I swallow. “Oh.”
He rubs his face with both hands. “Fuck. I’ve frightened you.”
The heat turns into angry flames. “Stop doing that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He stares up at the ceiling. “It was inappropriate—”
“No. Not that. This. Stop treating me like I’m some precious doll that needs shielding from the world. Stop treating me as if I can’t handle things. As if I can’t handle you. You are inappropriate. You shouldn’t say half of the things you say to me. But has it occurred to you that perhaps I like it that you do? That perhaps I like it that you talk to me as if I’m an actual human being? That, perhaps, my entire life, no one else ever really has?”
My skin is burning now, and I’m breathless. It feels good to say it, to unleash it, to let something out that I think has been building up inside me for quite some time.
Callum’s eyes widen. It’s as if he’s not quite sure what to do.
He releases a half-laugh. “No, I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me.”
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“About what?”
“You said I smelt like Blake. I don’t want to smell like him either. Do you want me to wash?”
He exhales, then goes back to his pacing. “No. I want to wash you.”
He sounds so sullen that it almost makes me laugh. “Callum!”
“What?” His lips are twitching, even though his body is tense. “I thought you liked how inappropriate I am.”
I roll my eyes.
Then I glance at the copper bathtub.
Something has been knocked loose inside me. Telling him off has made me feel daring. I want to feel that way again. I’m fed up of locking up my emotions. I’m fed up of making myself smaller than I am so that others can feel bigger, stronger. I’m fed up of being shielded from the world and all it has to offer.
Curiosity flares inside me.
He protects me because he thinks he holds all the power. But the way he is acting. . . I wonder if I am powerful, too.
“Okay,” I say. “Wash me.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Callum stills.
He’s facing away from me, and the muscles in his back harden. I don’t think he’s breathing. I don’t think I am, either.
We are both frozen in time.
Only, my heartbeat is wild in my ears. Did I really just say that?
He turns around.
He opens his mouth, then shuts it again.
“What?” His voice is low and gruff as gravel.
I raise my chin. “I thought Wolves had superhuman hearing?”
He lets loose a half-laugh. “Aye. But you can’t possibly have said what I think you just said.”
“Why not?”
The rise and fall of his chest is deeper than usual, as though he’s making a strained effort to control his breathing. His fingers twitch at his side. “You want. . . You want me to wash you?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You realize you’d have to take off your clothes for me to do that?”
“I am well aware of how a bath works, Callum. I have bathed many times before. More so, I’d imagine, than you.”
He laughs, shaking his head. There’s an exasperated look on his face. “I’d imagine you’ve not been bathed by a male before? No?”
“When I was at the palace, people would always fuss around me while I was bathing. I do not see why this is any different.”
His jaw tightens. “It’s different.”
“You Wolves all seem perfectly fine to wander around without wearing anything. I don’t see why I should be held to a higher set of rules.”
I slide off the bed and Callum tenses as I walk to the bathtub.
I’m hyperaware of him tracking my every movement, and it feels good to have so completely captured his attention. It feels powerful.
I run my hand through the water. It’s warm and soothing, and the steam carries the scent of lavender as it mingles with the woodsmoke. I wonder if Isla ran this bath for him. The thought of ruining her obvious plans to seduce him provokes a burst of satisfaction that startles me.
I glance over my shoulder at Callum. He looks wary.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“You’re going to get me into trouble.”
I am enjoying this far too much. “I thought you wanted to wash me.”
“Aye.” His eyes darken to the color of the forest at night. “I do.”
I stare at the steaming water.
As much as I’m enjoying feeling in control of this situation, if I do this, it will be the boldest thing I’ve ever done.
I said this was no different than being bathed back at the palace, but it is and we both know it. No man has ever seen me without my clothes on before. That is something that is supposed to be reserved only for my husband.
For Sebastian.
For a man who makes males from the Northlands fight for sport. Who threatened me. Who skins Wolves alive and hurt Ryan and said he’d throw me into the kennels for Callum after he was done with me.
Sebastian sees me as nothing more than a prize, a trophy for him to keep on show, an item for him to do with as he wishes.
But what about what I want?
The bedchambers are silent, except for the gentle crackling coming from the hearth. I can feel Callum watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. The tension in the room is like a tangible thing, the air unbreathable.
“Princess. . .” His voice is strained. Almost pleading. Though I’m not sure what he’s pleading for. I don’t think he knows, either.
My fingers tremble as I undo the fastenings on the back of my dress. I pull the sleeves down, and let it fall and pool at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a black shift.
Callum’s eyes are wide, and his hand is curled into a fist at his side. The distance between us feels palpable.
He doesn’t move. He is that alpha from the fighting ring again; tense and ready for battle.
I don’t want him to see the faint scars on my back—the ones that the High Priest gave me. So I face him when I take hold of the hem of my shift. His jaw tightens.
“Princess. . .” he says again, and I’m not sure if it’s a warning or a plea.
I imagine I am back at the palace, and merely undressing for any other bath, and lift it over my head, revealing myself fully to him.
Callum inhales, his mouth slightly parting. He lets loose a shuddery breath.