Page 50 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 22

Leaving the ring was a solemn affair, not one person making a noise until we turned and, even then, as we walked away, the few voices we heard were muted. We strode out into the late evening light, back through the town, which was emptier, much of the bustle of the day having been packed away. That wasn’t the same when we walked into the pub, though. Many of the citizens of Bayard had decamped to there, almost every table filled, including one where Pepin and Nordred sat. Pep got to her feet to wave us over, but her fingers fell limply to her side when she saw our expressions and she watched us progress through the taproom. That heavy mood persisted until we got back to our room.

Dane held the door open for me, the others massed behind his back, but each one of them watched to see what I’d do. Part of me didn’t want to step into that room. Even with everything that had happened, I still suffered that customary wariness of being in a room with men I wasn’t married to and in a place like an alehouse, but I took a deep breath and stepped in.

“Do you accept it now?” Weyland asked sharply and all of us watched as his hands formed fists.

“Brother, this isn’t the way,” Dane said.

“And what is the way, Dane?” Weyland snapped back. “She’s ours, and part of her knows that.”

“And part of her doesn’t.” Gael stepped forward, walking over to one of the chairs and slumping down into it, his big hands rubbing at his face. When they did, they dislodged the sweep of hair that usually covered one eye and I saw red scars there. He jerked his hands away when he caught me looking. “You don’t understand what it’s like, being brought up to be one thing and finding out you’re another. Worse though, when that thing is despised by the people who raised you.”

His focus shifted back to me.

“How do you feel, Darcy?”

I paused then, my mind scrambling for an answer, while my eyes slid over each one of them, trying to discern their intent. Weyland looked like he was being held back by a thread. Dane was artificially calm and contained. And Axe? He looked somewhat vulnerable, a strange thing in such a big man, and when my eyes caught his, he walked over and dropped down by my side.

“You defended me?” he asked in the gentlest voice I’d ever heard him use.

I stared intently at Axe’s face, unable to stop myself. It seemed I needed to catalogue every part of it. The broad span of his forehead, the way his braids pulled his hair back from his face. Those fine brows creasing slightly as his eyes searched my face in the exact same way. Then mine slid down his nose, pausing way too long on those full lips. I watched his tongue flick over them, his jaw moving as he did so and then he reached out.

A long hiss escaped his mouth as I jerked back and away from him.

“She’s not ready,” Gael pronounced. “She feels what we feel only in fits and starts, usually when her emotions are up or she feels threatened. I know what you all want, because I feel it too, but…”

“But we won’t be doing anything about that any time soon,” Dane said with an air of command, looking his brothers over.

He walked closer and while he wasn’t wearing his fur cloak or fancy clothes, he still looked every inch a king. He stared down at me, capturing me with those blue eyes and holding my gaze.

“What did you feel when Axe was laid out?” he asked, mirroring Gael’s earlier question. “When the soldier sucker punched him?”

“Bastard set it all up,” Axe muttered. “Using his pals to distract me.”

But Dane shook his head, silencing his brother, just waiting for my answer. I glanced back at Axe, at that open face, now marked by mottled bruises. My hand lifted of its own accord, reaching out to brush my fingertips across the marks on the top of his cheekbone to the sound of his hissed inhalation.

His eyes fell closed and I could see his huge chest moving faster, sucking breaths in as I touched him. A low rumble rose at that. “Steady, brother,” Dane said. He tried, I could see that, taste it, even. Axe’s desire was like the smell of fresh bread on the air, like that aroma that makes your mouth water in anticipation.

I could’ve pulled my hand back. Axe’s bruises were disappearing at a rapid rate, the purple and yellow skin becoming healthy and brown again, and I’m not sure that had anything to do with me. I didn’t move my hand away, though. Instead, I shifted it to cup his jaw, and that’s when Axe’s eyes flicked open. They burned now with an unearthly blue light; a light that flared brighter as he turned his face into my hand, the stubble of his cheek scoring my skin as he pressed the smallest of kisses into my palm.

But even that small action was enough to break the spell for me. I snatched my hand back, feeling the throb of heat on my skin even as I held my palm against my chest.

“Thank you,” Axe said in a low voice. “I thought I needed to break some heads, but really… I just needed that.”

And seeming to sense that I’d reached my limits of proximity, he got to his feet, towering over me for only a second before stepping back.

“Now I’m wondering if it’s too late to go back and jump in the ring,” Weyland grumbled.

“It is,” Dane declared. “I’ll have some dinner brought up and then we need some sleep.”

Which drew my attention to a bigger problem. When I turned around to see what the sleeping arrangements were, I noted something I hadn’t realised earlier. There was only one bed in the room. A massive one, granted, but still just the one.

“This is a room for a mated pack,” Dane said with an apologetic smile. “When we found you after your father… We thought…”

“It’s just a bed,” Gael said drily, glancing down at it as if to make clear its benign state. “No one will touch you, not without your permission. I know they tell stories of wild wargen raping and pillaging, but we don’t do that. We can’t. Our beasts won’t tolerate us abusing a woman, taking what she doesn’t want to give. The others might moan and groan about it, but the choice will always be yours. Now, let's eat. I’m bloody starving.”

And so,Dane instructed a serving girl to bring us up a meal, and we all sat around the table, ostensibly eating. It was as rich and nourishing as the food I’d been given for lunch, but I barely tasted it, which was strange as that’s all I kept my focus on. Keep my eyes on my bowl, watch my spoon dip into the stew then ferry it to my mouth and repeat. I was so focussed that when a hand landed on my shoulder, I jumped.

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