Page 80 of The Wolf in My Tavern

I have bruises everywhere. Not that I care about that. My only relief is that they have not yet tossed me over the side. But I don’t like that they’ve put me down here and worry for what it means. “I want to see Ada.”

“Ye will see her when the cap’n says so.”

“He is not a fucking captain. You are all fucking delusional.”

Somebody lands a blow across my back, and too easily, I am chained up against a wall.

I swallow sickly.

“He be a pack leader’s son, ’n he be destined t’ be the leader hisself one day. His wench will make a fine queen.”

Great, not only is he a big bastard who can shift and who has stolen my women, but he is also to lead a pack! “Ada is not a wench,” I mutter as I strain with renewed vigor against the chain.

They hold me tight. As one crewman pointed out on the second day, they use chains intended to hold all manner of prisoners, including orcs. What chance do I have?

They leave. At least the hatch remains open, and weak daylight is coming in. There is an open space on this side of the hold. The area I am bound in now is comparable to the tavern footprint, with crates stacked up on the other half. They could carry much more in the way of goods, people, or soldiers, whatever their purpose.

I stare up through the open hatch, worried about the time when they will close it and leave me in darkness. The swaying movement feels worse down here.

Ada has changed somewhere along the line. She used to be my good girl. Now she is good for him… and bad, and sinful, and fucking hot.

Blood begins to surge into my cock as I think about her with him. The damn thing is broken. I should not grow hard thinking about another man touching my woman. It should disgust me.

If Gray has broken the sweet lass, he has broken me, too.

If I were to try to take her away from him now, if I could somehow, assuming there might be some opportunity when we finally reach land, I believe I would hurt her by doing so. Yet, what is this life? A slave forever? Bound to wolves until I must die and wither?

My gaze lowers to my naked feet—they took everything but my pants from me the first day—I frown as I notice that my pants end a little way up my legs. They are snug against my thighs now that I think about it, yet they feel loose around the waist.

Maybe the salt water makes them shrink.

Only, I also seem bigger.

Am I bigger? Other than my pants, I have no point of reference, yet I seem bigger and stronger. Also, the frigid wind and cold seawater have not bothered me since that first day. My feet are bare and should be fucking freezing.

What is happening to me?

A creak draws my attention to the stairs. Heavy boots appear, then the rest of him. The shifter who came into my life and destroyed everything.

I tell myself I’m not frightened of him, but I’m still tense as he reaches the bottom of the stairs carrying a lantern, which he attaches to a small hook in the hold ceiling.

He steps closer, gives me an up-down look, and sighs.

The steps creak as Drake comes into view. He closes the hatch before descending the stairs.

The closed hatch makes it darker and ominous. I think about the sky, all stormy and gray, and how it wasn’t much to look at. Now I wish I could look at it again, for something tells me I will not see it again.

And Ada. Her sweet face as she lay sleeping when they took me outside. I only got a glance and didn’t resist the deckhands, thinking I would see her again soon.

I clench my fists lest I betray myself and the shaking there.

Is this where they end me for being too much trouble? Rip out my throat and then toss my remains over the side of the ship?

Maybe I shouldn’t have fought so hard.

Maybe I should have fought harder.

They are sensible, bringing me down here out of Ada’s sight.

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