Claimed By The Beast

4

The chamber swallowed me whole.

I expected a dungeon, a damp, moss-grown cave with chains dangling from the ceiling and the occasional rat skittering past my boots. Instead, I was tossed onto the floor of the room. Chains rattled at my wrists and ankles as I pushed myself up on my elbows to see where I was.

There was a four-poster bed at the far end draped in blood-red curtains and furs of silver and black. Candles in iron sconces along the walls cast long shadows over the chamber. The flames that curled up the great hearth at the end of the room could do little to dispel the tight knot of unease in my gut. Nothing seemed to reach me here, except the cold certainty that I was trapped.

The wolf that had brought me here knelt and fastened a manacle around one of my ankles with a grunt. The iron bit into my flesh, and the chain leading from the ankle manacle to a ring in the floor was only six feet long. Just long enough to reach the bed, just long enough to keep me from running.

The Wolf King entered with a stealth that was surprising for his size.

The other wolf pushed himself to his feet, bowed to the wolf king, and left the room not sparing me a glance, the heavy door closing behind him like a coffin.

We were alone.

The Wolf King stood at the window, his back to me, clad in a black tunic. His broad shoulders were outlined in shadow, but I could see the tumble of dark hair that cascaded over his shoulders in heavy waves, the long, powerful hands that were clasped together at the small of his back. I could see the scars that littered his knuckles and the deep furrows that lined his face. He looked like a man who had seen too many battles, who had bled too many times.

I tugged at the chain until the links sang. "Let me go," I said hoarsely. "This is a mistake, you don't want me here. I'm nobody to you, I’m just some ordinary scholar who had the misfortune to wander into the wrong forest at the wrong time. Whatever delusion you have about me, it is entirely wrong."

He turned to look at me, and the firelight caught glints of gold in his eyes. "Ordinary," he said softly. "You are the first thing in years that has soothed the beast within me. When you are near, it cease its howling and writhing long enough for me to think, to feel." He took a slow step towards me, and the floor seemed to buckle beneath his weight. "When I touched you in the hall, it burned as if I had touched a brand."

I backed away until I hit the wall, the chain going taut around my ankle.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, crowding me against the wall. I had to look up at him, and I saw every sharp angle of his face, every cruel plane of his muscled body. "My wolf screams for you, writhes in your presence, and aches to make you its mate. My hands blister at the thought of touching you." He bent closer until I could see the glint of madness in his golden eyes. "You’re my salvation and destruction, wrapped in one defiant package."

I couldn’t breathe as I met his gaze. The air around us seemed to tighten, to fill with the scent of pine and the crackle of electricity that seemed to sizzle between us. Something deep inside told me to run, to fight, to do something, anything, but my body refused to obey, it wanted him to touch me. Some part of me; some dark, twisted part, wanted him to take me right there.

I think he understood what I felt because a shadow crossed his face. "I have lived twenty nine years under this curse," he said hoarsely. "I have made peace with the fact that on my thirtieth birthday, the beast within me will consume me whole. That whatever has been me will cease to exist, drowned out by the beast in me. I was content, in my own way, to die on that day. But now, in my final year, the universe sees fit to throw in my path a woman whose very presence soothes the savage beast within me, and whose touch blisters my hands."

He laughed, the sound like something broken and twisted. "Tell me, little null, is that ordinary?"

I could not answer him. The way he spoke sent liquid fire through my veins, sent tingles dancing down my spine. He reached for me, slowly, giving me every opportunity to refuse him. His hands were rough where they skimmed my cheekbones, sending another sharp jolt of sensation through me, deeper this time. It was like touching flames, only the silver heat rolled over me in long, languid waves, branding me with his touch.

The air around us seemed to sizzle with the force of it, until tiny wisps of smoke curled from my pores. A red mark in the shape of his palm blossomed across my cheek, but he did not stop. His hands tightened around my jaw, and his lips parted, as if he were about to say something monumental. When he finally looked at me, his golden eyes held something that made my heart constrict in my chest. They were the eyes of a man who wanted to.

He studied my face, his fingers balling up into fists. "It would be easier," he said at last, his voice cold as the winter wind that whispered through the castle walls. "It would be easier if I killed you now, it would be kinder than binding you to a dying king." He took a slow step back. "Kinder than leaving you to the council's tender mercies. Kinder than making you watch as the beast inside me devours me, piece by piece."

He rose and the chain rattled as I finally found the strength to move as I pressed myself against the wall as though it might somehow shield me from the weight of his words.

But there was no shield or escape.

There was only the Wolf King standing in the firelight with smoke curling from his burned palm as he looked at me as if I was both his executioner and his last prayer.