Page 27 of The Wolf in My Tavern

My spoon drops into the bowl, and I am all ears.

He shrugs. “I asked around when I realized your wolf was imprinting. Her father was a mean bastard, worked in the slaver markets, and sold her for coin enough to pay a debt he had racked up. The lad’s father is part of the secret rebellion here. You heard those lowlife flesh traders took Betsy. Well, Ada was put in the cell with her. That’s how they met. when Tim, along with the blacksmith, his son, Callum, and a few others broke them out. The lad is no pushover, despite his age. He takes part in the underground fights on occasion. He handles himself well, I heard. You’ve convinced yourself he’s not good enough for her, even as you suffer guilt. You are wrong on both counts, Gray. Nothing was consummated between you and Lizbeth and, to be blunt, my wolf always questioned the match. What you need to realize is that, wolf instinct or not, Ada is already taken by a blacksmith’s apprentice who saved her life and would worship her like a queen.”

I swallow thickly, devastated to learn what happened to her, and hating myself that I still want to challenge the whelp, dominate him utterly, and then take her from him.

Worse, I can sense the truth of Drake’s words: my wolf has imprinted. He doesn’t care that Ada deserves something better than a battle-scarred shifter who has spent a year searching for those he lost and might spend another year and more, or for however long it takes.

I have nothing to offer her.

The blacksmith’s lad has already won the fight.

“I was going to go along Monday,” Drake says, stirring me from my painful rumination.

He is wearing a look of feigned innocence, and my eyes immediately narrow.

He thumbs over his shoulder. “Callum is fighting at sundown at a warehouse near the docks… You probably won’t be interested?—”

“We’re going,” I say, cutting him off.

He grins. “Good. We were going anyway to meet a contact there about the ship coming in.”

“Bastard,” I mutter, snatching up my ale and scowling when I notice the dent I put in the tankard, which will cost me more fucking coin.

“Your wolf really has imprinted,” he says, serious for once.

“Aye,” I say sourly. “He will get over it.” We will both have to. I have a younger brother and a shifter lass counting on me to stay focused and remember what is at stake.

Callum

As I push through the door of The Green Man, it is to meet a wall of heat and raucous merriment. High winds have kept several ships trapped in the dock, and every tavern in the city is heaving. My eyes immediately go to that bastard sitting in the corner. The shifter who goes by the name Gray. Despite my father’s comments about them looking for lost pack members, I wish they would hurry up and fuck off.

I hate the way he eyeballs Ada all the time. I hate the way every man eyeballs her, even though she is not mine, and I’ve got no fucking right.

“Callum!” My worries and angst fade away as the tiny lass insinuates herself into the space next to me. A rowdy sailor calls an order out. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she says absently in his direction, her pretty eyes on me.

I swallow, and before I can counsel myself, my eyes drop to her cleavage.

That fast, I’m lost, thinking about how her nipples feel underneath my tongue, the way she writhes and moans and fists my hair when I suck or play with them. The little breathy gasps she makes as I go lower and get my tongue all up in her pussy.

I lift my eyes to find her lips twitching as she seeks to hide a smile.

“I get a break in a bit,” she says.

I swallow.

“We’ll have two bowls of stew,” my father calls, breaking the spell enough for me to drag my eyes away from the beauty before me.

I adjust my collar. My father chuckles. Ada goes to place our order, and Charlie, a wheelwright, his shop a few doors down from ours, slides into the seat beside my father, and the two of them strike up a conversation.

In a bit… How long is in a bit?

I watch Ada take two pints to him and his shifter buddy, Drake, tucked in the corner. There is no mistaking her flush as she drops off the pints and collects the coins.

She smiles at everyone. I don’t know why I see that bastard as a threat. As far as I know, he is nothing to her but a patron. Then again, how would I know? It’s not like I’m in here all the time. Maybe the wolf bastard is rutting her, too. We have made no promises to one another, matters being too new, and every time I’m alone with her, my dick commandeers my brain.

Fuck! Maybe she thinks this is a casual fling. Maybe it doesn’t mean the same to her. My palms grow sweaty as I sift through my chaotic thoughts for the answer and come up with an alarming realization. Not fucking once have I mentioned how I feel, or that I want to court her—I haven’t even begun the wooing process. I am a dolt of the highest order!

I stumble from the chair. My father gives me a look, then smiles faintly before he turns back to his friend as I set out on a collision course for Ada. She squeaks as I take her by the elbow, liberate her of a tray full of empty tankards, and drop the tray on the counter where Betsy is busy serving. Her grin is pure mischief.

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