Page 81 of The Wolf in My Tavern

“You are seeking to end me where Ada cannot see,” I say, hating how my voice breaks. “She will eventually see through whatever glamor you have placed over her and will cut your throat in your sleep.”

Gray huffs out a breath. “If I had a mind to toss you over the fucking side, I’d have done it on the first day.”

His brusque tone settles me a little, but I’m still nervous.

“Then what is this about?” I look between them. Gray is looking pissed, although I have no idea why, and Drake… smug?

“You have left it too long,” Drake says. “Too busy rutting the wench.”

Gray growls.

I growl, too, and their heads swing in my direction. I have done that a lot lately. I’ve not thought about it much, but now that I do, it sounds much like their growls.

My head hurts—my whole body aches. I’ve been thumped, cuffed, and battered with a club more times than I can count. Yet the way my head hurts is different and sudden. I think my body is finally giving out from the stress.

“He is a mouthy bastard,” Gray says, turning back to Drake. “He’s lucky I don’t fucking strangle him instead of helping him out.”

That statement throws me before my anger rises. “Do not help me out, shifter scum. I will help myself,” I sneer. “And the woman who will be my wife.” I strain against the chains, pulling and tugging, even though I’ve tried it a thousand times and failed on every one.

“You need to tell him straight,” Drake says.

I pause my thrashing. “Tell me what?” Neither of them answers as they engage in a glaring match like I am not even here. “Tell me the fuck what?!”

“Fine, he has a very poor attitude,” Drake finally says to Gray, as if he is conceding a point. “I will cut you some slack. Also, your wolf is dominant, and I could see why this is challenging. Knowing the lad has been pleasuring her, taking her, getting his cock all up inside her long before you did must be?—”

Gray bares distinctly canine teeth and claws string from his right hand like he is thinking of ripping into the man who is supposedly his friend.

“I do not have a poor attitude. I have an exemplary attitude,” I say. “I was the most reasonable person on the fucking planet until this wolf lordling swept into my life, snatching lasses from streets.”

“See?” Drake nods. “The lad makes a good point. These are testing circumstances all around. We should cut him some slack, too.”

“Thank you,” I say, mollified and then confused that he is backing me up.

“So now you are taking his side?” Gray demands of Drake. At least his claws are gone.

“Well, I am if you’re acting like a whelp,” Drake says.

A small snort-snicker escapes me despite the tension and the small matter of my life being on the line.

Their heads turn my way. Drake’s lips tug up on one side. Suddenly, I feel—confusingly—like I might have an ally in this. I might even like Drake if I got to know him. He is certainly plain-talking toward Gray, which I appreciate.

Gray sighs heavily. His scowl could level a lesser man, but Drake looks unperturbed. “You can get out any time you want to,” he says, turning to me.

I frown, looking down at the cuffs on my wrists, tugging ineffectually. “Is there some trick? Why would you do that?”

“He has grown,” Drake says, distracting me from my exploration of the cuffs as if a mechanism of escape might suddenly appear.

“Aye,” Gray says. “So I noticed. I think it is the rutting… That is why I brought him down here. I don’t want him to get any bigger. Fuck knows. I will have a battle on my hands as it is.”

“Aye,” Drake says, grinning. “His shoulders are as big as a barn door, and he is skilled, too.”

I can’t follow this conversation, but I have slept very little since we boarded seven days ago, and likely circumstances have addled my mind.

They, too, think I have grown… further, I realize I am at eye level with Gray and had the impression he was taller than me before.

I tug on one of the cuffs; it does not give.

Drake folds his arms. “You need to tell him and tell him plainly.”

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