The following night, the Wolf would learn that some prey bite back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Ye ken ye’re starin’ at yer porridge like it personally insulted yer ancestors.”
Erik glanced up from the bowl he’d been absently stirring for the past several minutes. Aksel stood across the table wearing the expression of someone who’d been watching a man lose his mind and found it thoroughly entertaining.
“I’m nae starin’.”
“Ye’ve been movin’ the same spoonful in circles fer long enough that I’m startin’ tae wonder if ye’re somehow tryin’ tae divine the future in there.” His friend dropped into the chair opposite with zero ceremony. “Either eat it or admit defeat tae breakfast.”
Erik set down the spoon with more force than necessary. The Great Hall hummed with morning activity around them––servants clearing platters from earlier risers, a pair of guards arguing about patrol routes near the hearth, Liv movingthrough with her usual quiet efficiency. Normal. Everything was perfectly, devastatingly normal.
Except nothing felt normal.
She’s in me bed. Still sleepin’. Warm and soft and mine.
The thought sent heat pooling low in his gut despite the fact he’d left their chamber over an hour ago specifically to avoid waking her with the evidence of exactly how much he wanted her again. After last night in the hot spring, after finally claiming her completely, after watching her come apart in his arms with his name on her lips—he’d barely slept. Had spent half the dark hours simply watching her breathe, terrified it might all somehow vanish like smoke.
“Erik.” Aksel’s voice carried the particular patience of someone addressing a simpleton. “Ye look like a man who’s been struck by lightnin’ and isnae quite sure if he’s dead or dreamin’.”
“I’m fine.”
“Is that so?” His friend leaned back, arms crossed. “Ye snuck out of yer own chamber like a thief, ye havenae touched yer food, and ye’ve been wearin’ an expression that makes me think ye’re either plannin’ a murder or composin’ poetry. And we both ken ye’re nae a man fer pretty words. So, go on then, out with it.”
Erik met his gaze with what he hoped passed for composure. “I’m thinkin’.”
“About?”
About the way she looked comin’ out of that water. About the sounds she made when I was inside her. About the fact that somewhere between wantin’ tae strangle her and wantin’ tae kiss her, I fell in love with me damned wife.
“Her faither,” Erik said instead, which wasn’t entirely a lie. “The man’s got tae be feelin’ the strain.”
Aksel’s expression shifted to something more serious. “Aye, I imagine he is. Watchin’ his daughter wed the man he blames fer his son’s death… nae exactly a comfortable position tae find yerself in. Especially nae when she looks so happy about it.”
“Which is why—” Erik straightened, the decision crystallizing with sudden clarity. “We’re havin’ a feast. Taenight.”
“A feast.” Aksel repeated the words like testing them for hidden meaning.
“Aye. In honor of Finnian’s arrival. A proper welcome, full ceremony.” Erik pushed away from the table, energy suddenly flooding through him. “Get everyone. Tell them we’re celebratin’. Music, food, everythin’ done right.”
Understanding dawned across his friend’s features. “Ye’re daein’ this ferher.”
“I’m welcomin’ her faither,” Erik corrected, but even as he said it, he knew Aksel saw straight through him. “’Tis… diplomatic.”
“’Tis a romantic gesture wrapped in diplomatic frills, ye mean.” Aksel’s mouth curved. “Next ye’ll be writin’ sonnets.”
“Careful, or I’ll have ye organizin’ the wine selection.”
“I take it back. Ye’re ruthless as ever.” His friend stood, but something shifted in his expression—warmth breaking through the usual mockery. “She’s good fer ye, braither. I havenae seen ye like this in… well, ever.”
The observation settled over Erik like armor he hadn’t known he was missing. As if Claricia was some sort of tonic rather than a Highland lass who’d invaded his keep, challenged his authority, and somehow carved herself a permanent place in his chest where his heart used to be.
“Just shush, will ye, ye useless mutt,” Erik muttered, but there was no heat in it.
“Consider it done.” Aksel paused at the threshold, glancing back with that knowing look Erik was learning to dread. “Ye should probably tell yer wife about yer grand plan before sooner rather than later. Women tend tae appreciate warnin’ when they’re the center of attention.”
“I’ll tell her,” Erik said. “After she wakes.”
