Page 62 of The Wolf in My Tavern

A growl rumbles in my chest as I think about Callum.

“It’s not what you think,” Lizbeth says, her cheeks blushing under the lantern light.

Not what I think? My mind skips over her words before enlightenment blooms. “You have rutted her,” I say bluntly, fixing my glare on Arlo, who has likewise turned ruddy-cheeked at her confession.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I wonder what the fuck to make of this development. There is a measure of resentment in me that, while I have been mindless with worry, my younger brother has been rutting my betrothed. Worse, I have just stolen the woman who would be my fated mate from the streets ‘like a fucking savage’ as Arlo just rightly pointed out.

It is not the way wooing is generally done, even among shifters…

We are on a fast ship powering through the waves for safety and Hydornia. Callum will come looking for her. I saw his dedication written upon his face, and further, I believe his father has connections enough to aid the lad.

A sense of needing to claim our territory rises within both me and my wolf. By the time he tracks us down, Ada will be plump with child, and Callum, royal blood and all, will have lost his claim.

She will fucking hate me for it.

My wolf doesn’t care.

And the man in me is resigned to the fact that she hates me already and I recognize that no actions I take can make this any worse.

I may as well embrace the role of villain and be damned by the pleasure I take.

It is like the twisting of a knife in my gut, even as I feel relief that my brother and Lizbeth are whole and well, although a little weary from their terrible ordeal.

Drake suddenly chuckles.

My younger brother’s eyes bounce from me to Drake and back again.

Drake rolls out a phantom crick in his neck, like he is limbering up.

Arlo swallows. “Don’t let him at me, Gray.”

Him?

“These two have run amok,” Drake says ominously. “I had my suspicions, but now I see it is true. You were fucking her before you were taken, weren’t you? Sneaking off where you shouldn’t. And that is how you were caught.”

My brother begins to stammer.

“Please, Drake,” Lizbeth pleads. “It’s not what you think.”

Assuredly, it is. Yet more pieces fall into place as Drake cracks his knuckles and turns to me. “Do you have any issue with me taking on this arduous task?”

I shake my head. “Have at it.” Well, that is one less problem for me.

Drake grins: for such a generally agreeable male, it has an unusually sinister cast.

I know Drake and Arlo have fucked on occasion. Young wolf shifters are gregarious when it comes to rutting and often form temporary bonds with other males in the pack. Yet this is not only about my brother. Drake’s many comments about Lizbeth during our travels also begin to make sense… how his wolf was convinced that she and I were never meant for each other and that she needed a firm hand.

How have I been so blind?

A creak snags my attention, and my head swings back to my captive, my prize.

My chest heaves as her scent is carried on the wind and slams straight into me. The predator inside me rises, his tail upright and demeanor playfully alert with a side serve of dark lust.

Mine.

Finally.

Ada—trapped where nothing and no one can stop me from taking her.

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