Page 67 of The Wolf in My Tavern

He carries royal blood.

Maybe he will even best me before we are done.

My wolf prowls and lashes his tail from side to side before curling his lips back to growl.

“Oh, Callum.” The sound of Ada’s sobbing brings a softening sensation inside my chest. I turn back to her, ignoring Callum’s increased grunting, and stride the short distance to the bed.

I flash between shifted forms, leaving my clothing in a heap on the floor.

I purr, crawl into the bed beside her, and draw her small, chilled body against mine.

“Hush, wench.” I take her in hand, pinning her belly down in the bed, getting my nose up against the side of her throat as I throw a leg over her, cursing when my hardened cock makes contact with her plump ass.

This will be a fucking test.

My teeth find the juncture of her shoulder and throat. I bite, purr deeper, and settle a little more weight over her.

She struggles on. Callum’s sounds of grunting and thrashing on the other side of the room reach a fever pitch.

Then instincts win out, and her body softens under mine.

It takes a lot longer before the blacksmith whelp quietens down, too.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ada

The absence of warmth rouses me from a fitful sleep. I am cold, but it is a coldness inside, one that the thick fur bedding that surrounds me doesn’t protect me from. I shift my legs, restless, feeling needy and slick between my thighs. My breasts feel heavy and sensitive as I slide against the furs.

My mind shifts from the ignorance of slumber to high alert, and the dire nature of my predicament slams into me.

“Callum!”

I fight my way out of thick furs to turn my head, blinking when I find myself very much alone.

My racing heart settles a little and then ramps up again. “Callum!”

I throw the covers aside and lurch out of bed before rushing to the thick wooden door. I depress the handle and push—locked. I pound on it. “Callum! CALLUM!”

No answer comes. I press my ear against the wood, hearing noises beyond: the creak of rigging and wood, the roar of the ocean, and distant voices. No one is near. I yank on the handle again for good measure, rattling the sturdy door in the jamb. It is locked tight, possibly bolted or barred from the other side.

Still, nobody comes.

I bang on the door again. “Let me out, savages!”

A faint chuckle rouses me to full fury before desolation cuts me loose, and I rest my forehead against the door. “Callum,” I whisper.

I can’t believe Gray would hurt him when, by hurting Callum, he would hurt me and forever damage the bond he seeks between us. Yet my instincts are at sea as much as this cursed ship. I don’t know Gray well, and I hate that Callum is not here where I can see him for myself.

I swallow down a heavy lump in my throat.

My bladder turns my thoughts to practical considerations with urgency, and I push away from the door to stare around the room. It is a captain’s cabin and finely appointed, if a little worn in places. Beyond the window, I see daylight and a stormy sea and sky.

It would serve them right if I were to go all over the polished floor.

My gaze settles on a small door leading off on the right of the big latticed windows—I did not notice that last night. My bare footsteps patter against the wooden floor as I dash past the table. This door yields to my fingers, and I yank it open to find a small bathroom, complete with a lavatory.

I realize I need to avail myself of it, urgently.

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