Page 78 of The Wolf Queen

“People have been coming down here and stealing the power of the wolf for some time,” he said. “My people were just the most recent. Yours were the ones that came before. I have it, as did my grandfather before me, but my father, my brother, they hate that the throne has always depended on it. Father sought to extinguish the dirty family secret.” He smiled slowly. “Me. It’s why I was never married off, endorsed completely as crown prince.”

“He wanted your brother to inherit, to try and stamp out this taint?” I whispered.

“And to find a prince more amenable to his ambitions.” Bryson picked me up like I was a doll, setting me between the feet of the wolf statue, then stepping in between my legs. The intimacy of that was somehow unsettling and thrilling all at the same time. “Those of us that wear the mark of the wolf, we can’t make dynastic marriages, because there is only one woman for us.”

“Your fated mate…” I murmured.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. Your father was raised up and kept at arm’s length because of it. You were left to grow wild as a result, unable to be brought to court and presented to your peers. Anything to keep us apart, because…” His mouth dropped down, hovering over mine. “I wouldn’t have tried to break you if I’d found you first.” His mouth moved slowly, as if caressing the small sliver of space between us. “I’d have found you beautiful swords and finely made bows, taken you all across the country to hunt all manner of prey.” His hand landed on mine, lacing with my fingers. “Your strength wouldn’t have been a threat to me, but rather exactly what I needed.”

His devilish speech was oh so alluring, but something occurred to me then which had me planting my hands on his chest and shoving him away.

“So why didn’t you?” I jumped down from the plinth and advanced upon him, jerking my sword free. “Why didn’t you come and save me? My father ignored me at best or beat me within an inch of my life at worst, for being the thing I was brought up to be. Where were you, Bryson?”

“I was just as trapped as you were, perhaps more.”

I let out a sound of disgust at that.

“Trapped by all of this privilege,” I sneered. “Trapped by everyone bowing and scraping around you.”

“Trapped because what I am is potentially powerful enough to demolish the games my father was playing,” he said, catching my hand and pulling me closer. “But not powerful enough to do anything until my mate decides to accept me. I can’t tap into any of my powers without my queen to keep me anchored, because rather than destroy those that deserved it, I’d destroy everything.”

The Devil doesn’t ply you with gold and jewels, if wealth isn’t your weakness, nor power and influence, if you’re a modest person. The church harped on and on about being the kind of person who couldn’t be tempted by anything. But I was neither modest, nor immune to displays of power, not while I longed to wield it myself.

“What can you do?” I asked, the worst thing I could’ve done. I stroked his cheek, watched his eyes grow heavily lidded. “What can you become if I make you mine?”

Chapter45

Bryson snorted then, wanting to laugh but unable to, not when I was so close. He kept inching closer and closer, until I stood in the shadow of two creatures: the statue of an old god and his much more recent avatar. Power, that’s what I felt, cold as ice and making each breath hurt just a little. Pure, pure power. But while I liked to think that was why I touched him now, it wasn’t. My mates would’ve hated every moment of this, shouting their dismay, tearing Bryson away from me, but… It was them that liberated me away from the social mores that had me thinking their pleasure was important, not mine. Because I felt a thrill of it as I traced the line of Bryson’s open shirt.

“What can you become?” he asked, a small frown forming, then those full lips twisted. “Gods, woman, don’t you understand? I’ve watched you fight, you struggle when I know I can step in and remove everything that stands in your way.”

He jerked free of me then, striding over to a small brass brazier. A familiar black smoke seemed to curl free of his hand, right before he touched it. It didn’t set fire, instead the wood turned to dust in seconds, then the brass dish the firewood had been left in turned green, then black, then the metal became threadbare and thin before crumpling and turning to metal filings.

Bryson wanted to do more. I could see it in the shake of his hands, that need. Or perhaps want was the wrong word. It was like I felt on the practice yard. After I’d done my chores and all the other tasks set for me by Linnea, I’d reason with myself that my time was my own and I could spend fifteen minutes, perhaps half an hour working with my bow or my sword. But as soon as I gave myself over to my weapon, time, responsibilities, my governess’ stern face meant nothing. There was only the freedom that comes from surrendering to the truest part of your soul and that’s what had me moving.

“Your power is like his,” I said, moving closer and he flinched habitually when I touched his arm, but the black smoke didn’t want to attack me. Rather I felt its silky caress, right before he took a shuddering breath in and pulled it back.

“More than his.” There was pride, a need to prove himself in his gaze as he stared at me. “He needs to rape and pillage to rouse his power but I…” He swallowed hard. “I have to hold it back. Every day since the moment I went from boy to man. I killed my tutor when the gift came upon me. My father was disgusted, I was devastated but my grandfather, the king at the time, beamed and patted me on the shoulder. But with you…”

He touched my hands, my wrists, my arms slowly and carefully, watching the black smoke rise and play across my skin. Bryson stared at it in wonder, forcing me to question whether he’d let himself touch anyone like this. When his eyes met mine, there was something terribly vulnerable in them.

“With you I have control.” He grew bolder, gripping my wrists and stroking them with his thumbs, seemingly transfixed by the sensation of it. “If we were mated I could bring the Reavers low, destroy Callum.”

I smiled then, my eyes aching as they creased up. The moment he revealed this information, my mind had begun to race, to try and see a way forward and each one seemed to end in pain for someone.

“I don’t get to make that kind of decision without consultation,” I told him, squeezing his hand, then pulling away. “That’s something you learn about having fated mates. Destiny is only one part of the equation to any decision.”

“But Darcy—”

I pressed my fingers to his lips, feeling guilty when I did and that’s why this had to happen. I offered him my hand instead.

“Take me back upstairs and to your chamber.” His eyes flashed brighter then. “Back to my mates. You’ve made a very persuasive proposal but I can’t make any decision without them.”

“They call you queen.” It felt like it was Rake’s brow that rose then, not Bryson’s, the impudence plain. “Surely you make decisions and they follow them.”

I let out an involuntary laugh just then.

“If only…”

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