Page 8 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 4

“Take a breath, girl!” Linnea snapped the minute we were out in the hall. “You’ve been doing it every day since you were born, and you can do it now.”

Except I couldn’t, not now, not sometimes after vigorous exercise, not when I was upset or scared or… A frantic little whine escaped me, forcing Linnea’s brows down in a severe frown before she let out a frustrated snort.

“What on earth you’ll do without that man when you’re whisked off to the wilds of Strelae, I don’t know,” she muttered before hauling me downstairs.

Through the keep, down the main corridor that led to the kitchens she pulled me, Cook looking up as she saw me pass, a familiar look of concern on her face, but I didn’t get a chance to dwell. The rest of the trip was a blur, my ability to breathe growing more and more tortured until I smelled the rich scent of dry straw and horses.

“What the hell happened?” Nordred asked, pulling me from Linnea’s grip and tucking me into his side and it was that alone which helped break the stranglehold on my lungs. He placed his big, callused hand over my sternum and that’s when I sucked in a breath. Warmth radiated out from his palm, soaking into me and whatever it was that was locked down inside me instantly loosened.

“That’s it,” he said in that low, deep voice. “That’s a girl. Take a breath, a nice deep one. Fill those lungs.” Then Nordred’s focus shifted to Linnea. “What were you doing, dragging her down here like a naughty child? I’ve told you more than once, she has a lung condition.”

“And what’s she to do when she’s queen of the savages in Strelae?” Linnea snapped back. “Swoon like a fine lady the moment any of the wargs growl at her, only to wake up moments later like nothing happened.”

“Queen? Strelae?”

“She’s caught the eyes of the sons of the Wolf King. His Grace expected a noble envoy, but not the princes. A sharp sword and His Grace could put paid to the heathen king’s ambitions quick smart.” This was a muttered aside, but the lady quickly rallied. “But instead, the duke, in all his wisdom, has decided to marry the girl off to… They didn’t specify which prince, but perhaps the big one?”

“It’ll be all four,” Nordred said, rubbing his hand up and down my spine. “They mate as a pack.”

“Disgusting heathen practices!” Linnea spat out.

“So, you’re finally to become queen then,” Nordred said to me, smiling down at me when I lifted my head. His face was worn, lined with age, but still those blue eyes danced as he looked down at me. “Leave the girl here. That attack was a bad one and she’ll need some time to recuperate.”

“I’m not leaving the crucial bargaining chip for His Grace’s deal down here unescorted—” Linnea began to say.

“Leave us.”

Kris’ voice contained all the crisp expectation of obedience that he used with his men and Linnea jumped as a result. She still held her ground though.

“She’s not for you, either. His Grace has decided—”

“To sell his daughter off like cattle for good Strelan ore?” Kris finished for her with a sharp twist of his lips. “I was in the room and heard His Grace’s decision, just like everyone else. Now, go. You’ve used your position as Lady Darcy’s governess to lord it over the rest of us for long enough.” Kris’ smile spread slowly. “It’s not as if she’ll be taking you with her when she goes, and Darcy’s cousin, Horace, and his wife have their own staff to bring here when he takes possession of the keep. You’ll be nothing other than a pinch-faced bitch that’s earned no one’s favour.”

“Then there’s nothing to stop me from telling His Grace you’re down here in the stables with his daughter,” she sniped.

“And nothing to stop me from confessing you brought her here rather than to her room as he ordered.”

I wearily watched the two of them joust. One attack a day was enough to knock the stuffing out of me, but two? I needed peace, quiet and Nordred’s comforting presence, which he knew well. He usually set me up on a blanket on some hay bales, leaving me to rest while I let the familiar sounds of the stables wash over me, resetting the twitchy pressure valve within. When Linnea twitched the folds of her dress, I knew Kris had won. She swept out of the stables without a backward look, no doubt ready to blame me for the whole affair if she was caught. But Nordred paid them little mind, instead nodding to one of the stable boys to spread out a horse blanket before scooping me up in his arms and laying me down on a bed of straw.

“Don’t let them get you fussing again,” he told me. “You need to rest and reset. You’re strong, girl, but even the strongest of us can break if pushed too hard.” He patted my knee then pulled away. “You’ll be alright, as long as Sir Kristoff can mind his manners.”

Kris frowned at that, never one to tolerate impudence in the men under him, but even he made allowances for Nordred. He nodded to the older man as he passed, then drew closer to me, falling down on his knees before my hay bale.

“I’ll get you out of this,” he promised.

“Kris, this isn’t like the time I was caught throwing clods of dirt off the battlements at Linnea,” I replied, sitting up then instantly regretting it.

My body was sensitive after an attack, ready to shut down at a moment’s notice. He saw me wince and grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze and that’s when I felt it washing through my body: the same rush of heat I always felt when I was around Kris. My eyes dropped down to gaze at our fingers, not because I was finally obeying Linnea’s instructions about maidenly modesty, but because I always found it difficult to look directly at Kris, so I usually only let myself be aware of him in parts.

His long fingers, masculine and strong, marked with little white scars from battles past. His scent, part woody musk, part sharp and wild and resinous like the leaves of a lemon myrtle. His breath that seemed to my hopeful mind to be picking up now that he was close to me, then the warmth of his body. I chanced a glance up, seeing those brown eyes burning with the same heat as they had in my father’s hall and then my focus dropped to his mouth.

I traced the shape with my eyes, the full lips that smiled just as easily as they barked out orders, but he did neither of those things now. Instead, I watched his tongue slide out and across his bottom lip, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, my throat doing the same. He edged closer then, just by a tiny increment, but that was enough to get my heart racing again.

I didn’t move, didn’t do anything that could be construed as encouragement, even though this was something I’d dreamed of, sighed over, more times than I could count. To finally feel Kris’s lips on mine, to know his taste, to feel him—

“Look lively, young lovers,” Nordred interrupted, coming bustling into the stables. “His Grace is bringing the wargen down to see the horses.”

---