Page 49 of The Wolf Queen

Selene chuckled and then sent the other Maidens on their way, along with those soldiers standing nearby who’d come to help the wounded. My mates all met my gaze with the same burning intensity. My grandfather got to his feet and clapped his hand to my shoulder. But Bryson’s eyes were glowing bright, bright gold again, his skin suddenly going pale, as he watched everything with a kind of desperate longing I understood all too well. But he didn’t acknowledge it. He simply hauled himself to his feet and brushed himself off, walking away without a word.

“We need to quiz this prince about what happened,” Dane said.

“Fuck, brother,” Axe groaned, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Can’t we just go back to that fancy estate, have a long hot bath and then sit and drink with the men that fought beside us? Can’t we just live in the moment for once?”

“For now,” Dane conceded with a nod. “But tomorrow…”

Weyland replied by punching his brother’s shoulder as they passed. “Haven’t we got enough to deal with today?”

Chapter29

Evidently we did. We returned to the manor and, on Axe’s urging, we went down to the guard house and Gael helped heal the wounded. While we waited, we got through quite a few tankards of ale, celebrating the victory. I’d seen this kind of thing before in my father’s men. The relief of having made it through a fight crashing down upon you, loosening you up and you could either descend into a strange kind of apathy, completely wrung out, or you could recharge with wine, women and song. Unfortunately for the men, I was the only woman. But I noticed that during it all, the prince was a largely silent presence.

“To His Highness!” one of my grandfather’s knights said, springing to his feet and holding up his tankard.

“To His Highness!” replied almost everyone else.

Everyone but me and my mates. I caught a few sidelong looks being thrown our way and realised we were being terribly rude. Granian customs dictated that once a toast was made, everyone echoed it and raised their cup, lest they slight the person being toasted. Bryson’s lips twitched when he saw me join in, one elegant eyebrow rising. But it seemed to me that those golden eyes weren’t starting to gleam because the men were toasting his health. Rather, they seemed to be taking me in with increasing interest, right up until Weyland reached for my hand.

“Come with me before this gets too out of control.”

He escorted me from the guard house and back towards our suite. When we got back to the manor house, we paused first in the doorway of the children’s bedroom, drinking in the peaceful sounds of their breathing—in some ways that was more refreshing than the beer. Both of us were reluctant to move away until the quiet arrival of the others drew us out of our reverie, and we shot each other sheepish smiles as we followed them across the sitting area to our own room.

Drinking, carousing, singing dirty ditties were all an attempt to hold tight onto life, to reject death. And I felt that same strong urge to celebrate the fact that I was alive—that we all were alive—rise in me as I led Weyland into the room. The door was closed with a decisive click and then I was kissing him with a desperation born of that same impulse.

To feel alive.

“I’m filthy,” I said between kisses, as Weyland trailed his lips along my jaw, along my neck, before coming back to my mouth over and over. He only stopped kissing me to pull my shirt up over my head. “I need a bath.”

“And I need you,” he said, his voice hoarse as he looked deep into my eyes, cupping my cheek and stroking his thumb along the side of my face.

That bald admission was said with a curious mix of boldness and trepidation. He didn’t want to hurt me—something I knew almost instinctively—but I could tell there was more driving him. He didn’t want to miss out on this for a moment longer, not if I was ready to reconnect.

Was I?

I still felt fragile, as though with a good tap I’d shatter into a million pieces, but as I looked around at each of them, my too-busy mind finally understood what my gut already knew. They’d pick me up and put me back together if that was the case, each and every time.

“I know how you feel,” I replied, my eyes falling to the floor. It felt as though I couldn’t look at all the golden perfection of him, know he was mine and also confess the depths of my heart. “It hurts all the damn time.”

“Darcy—” Gael growled, rushing forward, ready to take away my physical pain, but I held up one hand to ward him off, while I lifted my other hand up and placed it over my heart.

“But now it hurts more to hold you at arm’s length.”

For a moment they all simply stood, taking my words in, digesting them, then Dane stepped forward.

“We don’t have to go very far tonight,” he said, notes of fear and hope warring in his voice. “Perhaps just with Weyland—”

“No.”

“Then with just your mates.”

I lifted my eyes up to his, frowning as I tried to make sense of his words. And it suddenly struck me. He didn’t count himself one of them. I hadn’t realised that. It made sense, in one way: I hadn’t bitten him yet, but… He was mine, I knew that as surely as I knew my own name. Dane was completely and utterly mine.

“You are my mate,” I forced out, through a throat tight with emotion, and he moved a step closer.

“Darcy—”

“You are mine, aren’t you?” I started out strong, but his expression kept changing, so fast I couldn’t get a read on him, and that made me falter. I drew my arms in and wrapped them around myself, suddenly feeling uncertain. “Dane—?”

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