Page 63 of Wolf Caged
No one had supplied her with undergarments?
I swallowed another mouthful of wine at that revelation, attempting to cool that heat that stirred within me at just the thought of the little wolf sitting opposite me wearing nothing beneath her gown. No barrier between us should I order her to perch upon my knee and slid my hand between her thighs.
How would she react to such a touch?
With the heat and need she had shown flashes of during our swim in the lake?
Or with a cold, scathing look and a threat to remove my hand with her fangs?
Great Mother, I wanted to know.
“Come, little lamb.” I patted my knee again, shifting in my seat this time as my trousers grew uncomfortably tight, my cock shooting rock hard at the thought of her claiming a spot across my thighs and pressing close to me, that divine scent of her filling my lungs as her breath skated across my lips.
“Are you always such a pig?” She scooted back in her seat, moving as far away from me as she could get. “Why don’t you give up already?”
My grin was pure male satisfaction as she turned her nose up at me but her cheeks coloured a little. She could act unaffected all she wanted, but her delicious scent and that intoxicating reaction gave her away. She enjoyed my attentions.
“The chase only makes the hunt sweeter.” I stroked my thigh, drawing her attention there. “Something you should know.”
She opened her mouth to retaliate, but snapped it closed when the servants entered with the food. I studied her as her gaze flitted over the dishes as they were set down on the table one by one, her irritation giving way to fascination as servants lifted cloches to reveal food she hadn’t seen before.
“I know those!” She pointed to a tiered stand of sweets, singling out the small sticky buns on the middle plate. “Vyr tookme to the bakery that makes them. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet and perfumed.”
“Vyr?” I arched a brow at her.
Her cheeks coloured. “Your sister said it would be all right to call her that. If it’s not?—”
“What my sister wishes you to call her is her business.” Yet I continued to frown at her, at this little wolf who had charmed my sister so swiftly that she had allowed her to call her by the name I had given her when we had been children.
A name she rarely allowed people to use.
The little wolf picked at her soup as a servant set it before her, her gaze downcast, and this would not do. I had not summoned her to dinner so she could hide in her food and shy away from me, as charming as this reaction to me was and as telling of her fear of me.
“Did you enjoy the sweet?” I flicked my fingers towards the tower of treats and gently nudged it towards her with magic. “If you have a sweet fang, little lamb, by all means indulge it. Although it makes me wonder how sweet your lips might taste after you have indulged in the treats.”
She halted halfway through reaching for the bun, her wide eyes darting to me as that bewitching hint of colour touched her cheeks, and then in a lightning fast move she seized one of the buns and hurled it at me.
I easily caught it, snatching it out of the air before it could strike me, and held her gaze as I bit into it. The sublime sweetness of it as the syrup oozed from the soft crumb tore a moan from me. It had been so long since I had tasted one of the buns that it caught me off guard.
The little wolf looked ready to hurl another as she bit out, “You’re so overdramatic. Moaning to get my attention. If you’re trying to make me blush, it won’t happen.”
It already was, the rose on her cheeks deepening a shade as I stared at her and licked the sugary syrup from my lips.
“I assure you, if I wanted to make you blush, you would stand defenceless against me.” I popped the other half of the bun into my mouth, chewed and swallowed it, savouring the taste of it that transported me back in time to my youth, when I had often indulged in such treats with my sister and brother.
My brother.
My mood faltered as I thought of him, of that night he had been taken from us, and the last time I had seen him.
Shadows twined around my legs beneath the table, their presence a comfort as darkness clouded my mind and my heart.
“I saw goblins and dwarves, and minotaurs in town.” Saphira’s bright voice was a light in that darkness, a great golden spear that cleaved through it and pulled me back to her. Her eyes were as bright as her voice, glittering as she pushed aside the soup and helped herself to several platters of meat. Next time, I would order more so I at least stood a chance of eating some before my little wolf claimed them all. “I can’t believe they exist. I’ve never seen so many stores either. Back home, we have a few general stores in the nearest town, but nothing like the ones here. There had to have been three blacksmiths.”
“Four,” I corrected, and she took her eyes off her mountain of meat and looked at me, her silver eyebrows raised high on her forehead. “There are four forges. Garandil’s is the most famous, but I prefer Fierel’s. It is more out of the way, but Fierel is a master swordsmith. His forge is second to none.”
“I’ll be sure to visit it when I’m next in the town.” She carefully cut her meat into nice little squares and then picked them off one by one, working her way through enough protein to feed a small army, all the while talking about the town as if this place was home now.
Which I supposed it was, given that I had no intention of letting her go.
