Page 25 of Wolf Caged
Her ears were rounded and there was a warmth to her that beckoned me, as if she wasn’t a danger in this dark and wicked world where I had found myself. Another potential ally. I decided to befriend her and perhaps broaden my limited knowledge of this world at the same time.
It certainly beat being alone in the dungeon.
I shuffled towards the bars between us, shifting my hay bed with me so I wouldn’t have to sit on the chilly stone floor, and the female eased back into the shadows, almost disappearing behind the walls.
“Wait,” I said, desperate for her to stay. If I couldn’t see her, I wouldn’t know she was there, and I would be alone again.
I didn’t want to be alone.
Wolves weren’t made to lead solitary lives, and I had been raised in a pack, surrounded by others. I had thought my captivity would be the thing that broke me, but I was beginning to suspect it would be the loneliness.
She edged forwards again, those strange eyes curious as she waited.
How could I tell her that I needed a friend in this land of monsters?
“They are not monsters.” The female moved further into the open, her pretty face blank as she stated that fact as if it was undisputable.
I was more hung up on the fact she could either read my mind or my thoughts were that obvious and written all over my face. Maybe it had been my desperation that had clued her into my dire thoughts and fears.
She inched closer to me, and I noticed she wore a dark red dress that reached her ankles and her wrists and was fitted to her torso, looking about as medieval as my own outfit. It was clean, as if she had changed into it recently, but that knowing look in her eyes said she had been here some time. Was at home here in this dungeon.
“Despite your ordeal, you are safe from the real monster here. The young wolf will never reach you.”
I startled, flinching back at her words. “How do you know so much about me?”
She tilted her head up, peering at the ceiling, as if seeing straight through it. “Anger rattles the old bones of this castle. She pushes him too hard.”
“Who? The king? He deserves to be pushed.” The last few words came out more bitter than I had expected and I froze up when the female angled her head towards me and clucked her tongue.
“Speak like that and discover why they call him ‘the wrathful’.”
“He’s a monster.” I didn’t need to know him well to know that about him.
Now that the drug had worn off, I was beginning to remember things about the night of the auction. The darkness I had felt when in that cage. The way his presence alone had silenced the other men. I might not have been able to seethrough his shadows, but I had felt his strength, and could feel it even now.
I could feel his darkness just as the female had said—in the stones of this castle.
She shook her head. “He is not the monster. Not one to fear.”
I scoffed, doubting that. “Are you here to warm his bed too?”
Her amber eyes widened, and then she did something that shocked me.
She threw her head back and laughed.
Laughed so hard that she had to fight for breath and the sound echoed and bounced around the dungeon, out of place in such a dreary location.
I could only stare at her as she struggled to regain control of herself.
“Good gods, no.” She wiped a tear from her eyes and gave one last chuckle, nailing home that feeling she thought the suggestion was ludicrous. “I am not a concubine, and he would not wish me to be one. I serve King Kaeleron the Wrathful in another way.”
King Kaeleron the Wrathful.
Delightful.
I had craved adventure, but this was too much. Captive of a fae king who had earned himself a title straight out of a nightmare.
“And you are?” I had the feeling she already knew my name, but I wanted to be polite, so I added, “I’m Saphira.”
