So sure, I’d gotten a little carried away last night and ended up with marks all down my neck, one on my inner thigh, and one on my forearm of all places. I needed to stop taking his knot so that I could slip away when needed, but last night any sort of restraint had been lost almost immediately. I’d wanted to ignore my life . . .but then accidentally slipped into insanity a little bit.
Telling him to make me his? I’d done that right out of the gate. What kind of fool was I? If he claimed me, I’d be fucked. With all his power, people would immediately know the caliber of wolf scented to my body. If his people were looking for me, it wouldn’t be hard to track me down. Oh, the dingy woman with the powerful mark? Yeah, I saw her run down that alleyway just there.
Stealing things? Forget about it. If people didn’t actually see me slipping from here to there, they’d smell me. Correction: they’d smellhim, the alpha of all alphas. The commander.
Another suitor? Laughable. I might not even get someone willing to pull out my magic.
Bottom line, I needed to stop asking him to mark me. To make me his.
I certainly needed to avoid ever telling him again that I belonged to him, regardless of how fucking hot that had been at the time and how fucking hard I had come.
At one point, the lava had flowed down my chest again. I’d tried to push him just that much harder so as to release my animal. Unfortunately, he was ironclad in his control. The man had things locked down. I needed to appeal to the wolf, which the man clearly knew because in the days following our coupling, his wolf had never been even remotely close to me.
Fucking Weston.
The following days did at least go a bit easier on the horse. I got to ride with Hadriel again and got much better at hanging on. Weston picked through my journals, randomly twisting to look back at me as we traveled. I could never tell if it was because of something he’d read, or because he wanted to make sure I hadn’t jumped off and started sprinting away. He used a pencil, making notes and dog-earing pages. Every time I noticed, I had to look away. The good thing was it constantly reminded me of our status—jailor and prisoner.
I started assisting with dinner every night, often taking over soon after we started. I even orchestrated digging a pit where we would roast a wild pig in the ground overnight. The next morning, we had some for breakfast and then stored the rest for the first fireless dinner that night. It was a fan favorite and soon so was I. People nodded at me and called me chef. They began sitting down to dinner with Hadriel and me or stopped to chat as camp was getting setup or taken down. I’d never felt so included in my life. I hated to give it up.
I reminded myself, though, that even if I were to stay on, this wouldn’t be forever. We were traveling now and making the best of it. They were on a break from their usual routine, and I was another odd thing in this new situation. If I was brought to the castle to stand in judgment, this easy camaraderie would quicklydry up. They’d go back to their lives and I’d go to the dungeon. Whatever my outcome, this moment in time was just that—a moment. Temporary.
The good news was that all evidence of our lurkers had seemed to dry up. The sentries hadn’t spotted anything during our travels or at night. The wolves doing sweeps for smells or tracks didn’t, either. I never felt Alexander’s or anyone else’s presence. It was like they collected what was left of their patrol and buggered off.
That fact made me wonder if the product Granny sold was actually mine. I mean, I knew she sold my stuff, but maybe it wasn’t the product these people were talking about. Hadriel had mentioned that the others didn’t think it looked exactly like mine, and the stuff I’d snuck him hadn’t made him crave more or feel sick in any way. Basically, it had had no lasting effects—like I kept saying.
Not like I could use that as proof. Even if they did believe me—which I doubted would ever happen—they’d know I’d snuck other product. I couldn’t allow myself to be searched. Tonight was the night. It was time to go.
Our winding trip through the countryside was at an end. Our route would now straighten out as we neared a large town, headed toward the sea.
To get out of camp, I’d rely on the bits and pieces of information I’d collected about Weston’s perimeter guard. Hadriel had been the most helpful, always happy to chat away merrily whenever I asked a question. Once, I’d overheard the others talking to Weston about it, and last night Weston had been grumbling about the setup, not knowing I was already in the tent. I roughly knew the formation. It would be enough to slip through if I was agile and quiet.
I really hoped I could be agile and quiet.
Weston had even started letting me carry my bag from my village so that I could collect plants and colorful rocks along the way. Apparently, he’d found it along the path to Granny’s and had hung onto it. I didn’t give a shit about rocks and those plants were useless, but he didn’t know that. I just needed the bag and a reason to keep it. I would empty everything out before I left and replace it with things I could use.
My lantern was brought into the tent every night and used for us to see by. I’d requested it because it shut off on its own. Neither of us would have to get up to turn it off after we were finished with whatever we were doing, which was usually having sex. I’d grab that once I was ready to head out, though hopefully I wouldn’t need it much. The sky was clear and moon almost full. I should have plenty of light to see by. The only thing left to do, besides spring the plan into action, was to say goodbye.
“Heya, chef.” A man named John nodded at me as I made my way toward the cooking station.
I’d been granted a small fire tonight, one single line of smoke that would not be unusual for this area, so close to a large town.
“Hey,” I replied, smiling at him.
Only Sylvester waited near the cooking station, working at getting the flames going. The rest of the pack would be out hunting, most of their meals lately eaten in wolf form. Weston would bring back a fresh kill for me so that I could eat. He was the only one allowed to do so. It didn’t take a genius to know why. His marks had faded and he’d given me no new ones in the past few days, but he was still making his claim. I was his. He’d provide my meals and keep me close at night to protect me.
Shivers worked through my body every time I thought of it. That, and the other nice things he did for me—like give me massages when traveling made me stiff, clearing my empty plate or bowl, helping me up or letting me lean on him—had constantly made my resolve wobble.
If only this had been a different life. Maybe just a different situation. Wouldn’t that be a dream? A strong alpha staking his claim on me, providing for me, protecting me. If I could ignore that he was my jailor, suppressed my magic, and continually dragged me toward my punishment, I would daydream him being my rescuer. Or a handsome prince come to take me away to a charmed life full of love and laughter.
But no, in his eyes I was still a drug maker, a killer of innocents. Dragon food.
It was definitely time to go.
“Sylvester, how was today’s ride?” I asked as I neared. He’d get leftovers from the other wolves, way more than he could ever eat. We’d then spend the evening cooking and cutting the offerings into appetizers so that everyone could get a taste. It was clearly why they brought so much.
“I’m tired of trees,” he groused. “Trees for days. It didn’t take us half as long to get to that village. I want a town with lively music and a pretty little barmaid to sit on my lap.”
“Does that happen?” I helped prepare the meager vegetables we had left and the roots I’d found at our lunch stop. “Do barmaids really sit on your lap?”
