Page 10 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 5

“I really am capable of walking,” I said, trying to remain stiff in the insufferable man’s arms. He and his brothers had interrupted my hunt, sucked the blood from my fingers, then walked in and claimed me like a pound of apples on market day. Now this? People couldn’t help but stare as we passed, seeing such a grandly dressed man carrying the daughter of the house through the open courtyard of the keep. “I have been since I was a small child.”

“You’ve got the lung sickness,” Weyland replied, in a much gentler tone. “Your chest gets tight and it feels like you can’t breathe and when you fight to do so, you make a strange wheezing sound.”

I just stared at the side of his impudent face, finding my eyes tracing the rough reddish blond stubble on the side of his jaw. That earned me a sidelong look, his blue eyes dancing.

“Gael had the same thing when he was young. Cured it with swimming, if the healers are to be believed. Attacks come so rarely now, I can’t remember when he had the last one. But I’d carry him like this after he had one when he was a child.” He hefted me up in his arms, smiling when I was forced to wrap an arm around his neck. “Now, milady, your room?”

“You can’t mean to—”

He stopped then, before staring down at me. “Wargs might be filthy heathens in your eyes, but we’re men of our words. You need rest, you need quiet and you need the healer, and not necessarily in that order. As my future mate, you’ll get every single thing I’m capable of providing in this bloody hellhole, if I have to sit outside your door in wolf form to guard you myself.”

I just blinked at him, the passion and intensity in his words so completely alien to my experience that I didn’t know how to parse them, and he tolerated my inspection with a slight frown.

“You don’t know it yet, lass, but you belong to us.”

And with that, any good feeling inside me evaporated.

“Only after you’ve signed an agreement to barter me for Strelan iron,” I snapped. “Now let me down.”

I began to struggle in earnest then, wriggling at first then, when that got me nowhere, I fought to get free. Pushing at his chest, kicking my feet helplessly, thrashing about, even as my father’s staff bustled past, until finally those arms locked around me just as tight as so often my condition did my lungs.

I found myself pressed hard against the man, my face forced into the mass of his hair, my nose breathing in a deeply musky scent perfumed somehow with herbs and spices that made my nose tingle. A hand like iron had slid to my back, coming to rest between my shoulder blades, his other arm tight as a band around my body.

“Just a warning, lass,” he said in a much deeper, throatier voice. “Struggling like that? To a warg that makes you prey. You feel like a deer does as it bucks under my fangs and claws, struggling to toss me off to save its life, but they never win. I sink my fangs into them anyway, until I find the carotid, the blood rushing into my jaws, the stink of it filling my nose as I bring the beast down.” He paused, then continued, “You’re not happy about this agreement.”

That was a statement, one that didn’t require my input.

“You fancy some other silly boy as your mate. One that stinks of iron and ambition.”

I let out a little gasp then, utterly betraying the truth.

“But you’ll learn just how wrong he’d be for you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Weyland loosened his hold on me then, allowing me to pull back a little and face him and, before I could think twice about it, I slapped him hard across the face.

This wasn’t smart, I realised that as soon as I did it, but that was the unfortunate side of my nature. If I had any wits at all, I’d obey my father and by extension, Linnea, in everything, earning me a hell of a lot less beatings, but I didn’t. But striking a warg? I saw his blue eyes begin to glow, and that’s when I remembered all the tales of the wargen and their savagery.

Two-souled they called themselves, because they could shape-shift like devils. From man to wolf was one such pathway, and then there was the warg form they’d wear into battle. Half man, half wolf, a hybrid of both with none of the more cautious instincts of either. They were creatures of unparalleled brutality, ones that had nearly managed to beat back the forces of the Farradorian empire when my people first came here.

I stared at Weyland now, watched his eyes grow brighter and brighter, as if his beast reared up and peered out at me from behind them, and I felt a twinge of that same tightness in my chest. He noted my hand going to my chest, frowned slightly and then barked, “Room, now.”

I gave him directions, stammering the words out, all bravado gone now. He moved like a stampeding horse, barrelling his way up the stairs to where Father’s and my rooms were situated. The door was kicked open and he swept in, an animal stumbling into my inner sanctum.

“Remove your stays,” he snapped as he set me down on the bed.

“What?”

My hands went to my corset, as if that was enough to protect myself from him, but he ranged around my room, his eyes wild, his lips peeled back from teeth that seemed much sharper than before. Frightened, I reached for the dagger I kept under my pillow.

“Remove that damn torture device you’ve got strapped to your ribs, stopping you from taking a full breath, or I will,” Weyland growled.

Anger was actually a good way to loosen my chest, which was perhaps why I was such a wilful creature. If I set myself at odds with Linnea, with Father, it usually kept my head, my lungs curiously clear. So as I rose from the bed I’d been tossed down onto, dagger in hand, all twinges of tightness were gone. I was back on the moor, the stag downed a few feet away. I gripped the hilt tight, but not too tight, stepping closer. Weyland caught sight of me, frowning when he saw I had disobeyed his order, then grinning wildly when he saw the dagger.

“You want a taste of my blood this time, milady?”

He kicked the door shut, taking the time to bar it, something that should’ve worried me, but it didn’t strike me right then. Nordred had taught me to clear my mind and only focus on the danger in front of me, to assess my opponent for weaknesses and then use them against him. To that end, I loosened my hold on the knife, letting my body droop as if I was about to faint.

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