Page 21 of White Horse Black Nights

“Is thisreallynecessary?”

As Wolf coils rope around my wrists, I glare up at him through my lashes, trying to impress upon him the full extent of my indignation. His shirt, which is normally tight on him, hangs on me like a chemise. The collar is so loose that my godkiss mark shows on my breastbone, but I can’t tug it higher with him tying my wrists.

“That’s up to you,” he says. “Are you ready to tell me the boy’s name?”

My face settles into a scowl.

My look makes him smirk. He gives the rope an extra tug to check its tightness and then moves on to my ankles.

“I told you, little violet. Tell me your lover’s plan to steal you from Lord Rian, and I’ll trust you enough not to tie you up. I won’t even kill the lad, how about that? I’ll just remind him there’s a price to pay for coveting another man’s property.”

Resting my back against the tree, I heave a sigh that travels all the way to my navel. I suppose there’s no point in denying anymore what Wolf already knows.

I mutter evenly, “He didn’t sully me, if that’s what you’re so concerned with.”

Wolf loops the rope around my bare ankles, trussing me up with the same well-practiced knots he probably uses on his quarry. “I know he didn’t.”

I snort. “How could you possibly know that? I could have slept with half the boys in Bremcote, and you’d be none the wiser.”

His hands go still for a brief moment, and then he finishes the knot. Tossing his hair back, he stands. “I just know.”

“You’re a liar, Wolf Bowborn. Come on. That can’t even be your real name.”

He runs a hand over his chin like he knows better than to let me goad him, but then levels me with a dark look that says he’s run out of patience for my prodding. In a steady voice, he explains, “Whenever Lord Rian gets a new whore for the brothels, he brings her to me first. Many claim they’re virgins—few actually are. I can . . . tell. And I can tell with you, too.”

He sniffs the wind once, like an animal.

I gape, mildly disgusted. “You cansmellthat? No. Impossible.”

His eyes gleam like hot coals. “If you don’t like it, take it up with the Immortals.”

I fold my bound arms into my chest, feeling pink-cheeked and mortified. All the while Wolf goes about setting up camp, I pity myself for having to be stuck with this beast of a man. He was right when he warned me he was an animal—but not a sweet one like my mice and birds.

He seemed nervous at the inn. Something happened while he was buying supplies. Whatever the innkeeper told him was significant enough to spook him away from the road to Middleford to take the forest road instead.

This detour complicates my plan significantly. Adan anticipated what route the ride would take through the major towns, and our rendezvous hinges on that path. Now that Wolf and I veered off course, Adan will have no way of finding me.

I still have his seashell, tucked into the cradle of my ear. It’s the only place I could hide it on my body. As badly as I want to clutch it now for reassurance, I don’t dare risk Wolf seeing. The man has the eyes of a hawk.

Well, Wolf Bowborn can’t see or smell or tasteinsidemy head. My mind is my own. And that’s where I keep Adan, tucked away among my few good memories. Myst. Suri. Adan. The only souls in this world who ever gave a damn about me.

Supper passes with few words exchanged between us. Wolf leaves to take a piss. Myst seems spooked, uneasy, as she stamps her feet next to the tree where she’s tethered.

What is it?I ask.

A predator nearby,she answers.Wildcat.

I scan the dark woods, but if the wildcat is close, it isn’t inclined to speak its thoughts to me. I wonder if Wolf is already aware of it. If Myst can pick up on its scent, surely he can, too.

It won’t come near the fire,I reassure her.Besides, Wolf will protect us.

She snorts, hardly comforted that our safety is secure in Wolf Bowborn’s hands.

When he returns, he says nothing about sensing a wildcat. He digs around in his rucksack and pulls out three apples—real, fresh apples that make my mouth water.

He tosses one to me. “Here. A fine dessert for a lady.”

I catch it with my bound hands. His tone was heavy with irony, but an appleisa decadent treat to me. I smooth my thumb over its glistening peel like it’s a precious jewel.

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