Page 104 of The Wolf in My Tavern

Gray scowls and immediately slides the tankard away from me.

“What? Give it back.” I share a glance with Lizbeth who now holds her tankard determinedly like she is worried she might be liberated of it too.

“Have you drunk ale before?” Callum asks, seeming to support Gray’s decision to take it off me.

“Yes,” I say, hoping I sound confident as I drag the tankard right back.

Gray sighs heavily. “We will have a mutiny on our hands if we take it off her,” he says to Callum over my head. “Better to let this run the course. Some lessons need to be learned firsthand.”

I take another gulp, lest Callum challenge this decision and it be my last one.

“She will be unconscious before she gets halfway down,” Callum says tiredly, before drinking deeply from his tankard. “Gods! That’s enough to put hairs on a bald man’s head.” He stares down at the ale with a grimace. “These farming folks must have hardy dispositions.”

“It is very strong,” Arlo agrees. “We will all be under the table by the end of the first pint.”

This conversation goes over my head. I take another sip. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Gray watching me with a smirk.

He has been quiet all day, and I like to see his brief smile, even if it is at my expense.

“No one is taking your prize off you, lass. You can take your time with it.”

The food arrives, and I set the tankard aside to make space. I am feeling a little hot already, and my mind is a pleasant kind of floaty.

There is a choice between potted pork pie and stew. They had venison earlier but have just run out, we are told.

For some reason, Drake finds this funny.

Gray accepts the bowl of stew with a grunt.

I am absolutely starving and do not hesitate to tuck in.

It is not long before I become aware of being watched again, of being squished between my mates, and of how their eyes are more often on me than on their food.

Callum seems to eat his food in rushes between staring at my lips.

His spoon drops with a clatter. He slides his arm around my waist, lifting me?—

“Don’t,” Gray warns, his arm shooting out to stop him.

Callum growls at him over my head.

“Whelp, if you put her on your lap, this will go downhill fast.”

I reach for my tankard and take a big gulp as they stare at each other over my head.

I would like to sit on Callum’s lap, but I also want to sit on Gray’s. It irritated me when he first insisted on feeding me, and now I miss the strange closeness of it.

They continue to stare for a good while before Callum goes back to his stew and eats it so fast it is a wonder he does not choke.

The rest of the meal passes under quiet conversation as they discuss what is next. Callum and I are new to much of this, and Gray takes the time to explain to us the history between his pack and this rival pack responsible for his father’s death. Now that the pack leader is dead, I presume that makes Gray the new leader. But his pack is scattered, and this rogue pack occupies his home, so maybe he is not.

I worry for my future, even as my heart breaks for Gray, who has lost his father and his home.

“I never meant to bring you into this, Ada,” Gray says, as the others fall into their own conversation, and he turns his focus to Callum and me. “I told myself I could walk away from you. The Goddess had other plans.”

“Do not blame your actions on the Goddess,” Callum mutters, reaching for his ale and taking a hefty gulp.

It is his third pint. I am still on my first, which has already made me hot, sleepy, and restless.

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