Page 30 of Their Cursed Wolves

Now, there’s no smile, laughter, or conversation to draw my focus from him, and I stare and stare, amazed that I get to be close to someone like him. And yet, I miss his smile and his laughter. No one has ever smiled or laughed with me the way he does.

I like him. And… I thought he liked me too.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up and setting the book on the nightstand.

He still won’t look in my direction, and it’s making me feel more and more uncomfortable. He’s my only ally, if he can be called that. I can’t lose him.

“We spoke to King Talon again earlier today,” he tells me softly.

My mind starts working. “How is he?”

“Not well,” he says simply.

My heart squeezes. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Finally, he turns to face me, but he quickly turns away, adding another log to the fire and shifting them around.

“I am,” I say, confused. “Prince Rinan, I tried to help him…”

I want to ask him what’s wrong again. I want to have him tell me the truth to ease this bundle of nerves inside of me, but I don’t know what to say to get him to answer me. I’ve never been good with people. When an older blacksmith is your only friend, you don’t learn a lot about keeping conversations or understanding people.

Does he think I failed to help King Talon on purpose? Does he think I’m lying when I say I’m trying to help? I want to ask him, but I don’t. If I talk more, I might just mess it all up even more than I already have.

He walks to the side of the bed closest to the door and places his belt with his weapons on the table beside the bed. Then he removes his shirt, and I find myself staring and staring. His chest is surprisingly smooth, given that he shifts into a furry wolf. But unsurprisingly, he’s ripped with muscles and tanned just so, like he often walks around in the sun naked. He’s almost golden in color.

Like a god.

A sigh escapes me as he turns to put his shirt on the nightstand, and I get a glimpse of his broad, muscled back. I’ve never thought much about men with their shirts off, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot since meeting these three shifters. Women always seemed beautiful to me, and men functional, at best, but these men are beautiful, through every inch of them.

He pulls down his pants and places them on the nightstand on top of his shirt. Standing in just his boxers, he stares at me, like he’s just met me or just realized I’m in the room. “I need to ask you a question.”

I nod. “Of course.” My heart thumps wildly.

“Are the witches working with the bears?” He stares directly into my eyes, like he’s trying to see if I’ll lie to him.

Didn’t he stand up for me when Prince Drogo suggested as much after the bear attack? Why is he asking me now?

I frown, not expecting the question. “Uh, no. Like I said before, I never even knew there were bear shifters because I’ve never heard a witch discuss them before. If the Battle Witches know of them, I assume they kind of just sort of lump all shifters into one big ball of enemy.”

“So you didn’t know the bear who attacked you?” he prods, folding his arms in front of his chest.

I burst into surprised laughter. “Definitely not.”

“Are you sure?”

My laughter fades. He’s serious. I expected this from Prince Drogo, but not him. “I’m sure. As far as I know, I’ve never met a bear shifter before and never knew anything about them.”

I try not to show how surprised I am that he just asked me that. Do they really think I’d let a bear physically attack me, to the point where I still have the injuries on my chest, as some kind of ruse? They think that lowly of me?

“Okay,” he says simply, but he doesn’t seem happy.

Prince Rinan throws the blanket over and climbs into bed, then settles in before turning to me again. “I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?” His face is stern, like I’m in trouble.

“Yes, of course. I promise.”

What’s this about now? More bear theories?

“If you’re this great, powerful witch – the daughter of the queen – why are you struggling so much with this curse? Shouldn’t you just know how to cure it?”

---