Page 79 of The Wolf Lord's Mate

The blaze of the fire was picking up, flame licking onto the back logs closest to the flue mechanism.

It was still half-closed, open just enough to let a thin layer of smoke coat the air—not something that would have bothered me enough to complain about, although I was most often simply glad for the fire.

I took a tentative step forward, darting a sideways glance at the Wolf, who had not shifting from his chosen position; lounged and perfectly content to watch me attempt to burn myself on his fire.

For the briefest moment I thought about trying to suffocate the fire quickly, claiming an accident or clumsy hands, but I feared his response to my potential mistake.

I was a member of another Lord's staff so he could not impose harsh discipline on me, but that did not mean he could not hurt me.

It did not mean that he would not enjoy hurting me.

Perhaps that was why he was making me do this; if I did it correctly then I would burn myself, if I did it incorrectly then the Wolf would likely strike me, if I were lucky.

Far worse has been done for far less.

I swallowed my fear as best as I could, but that only meant it coated my belly, sent my stomach to churning against the bile rising in my throat as I kneeled in front of the fireplace.

Heat washed over me in a wave, the blaze ripe and swelling, the flames flickering white spots into my vision and glinting off the half-closed mechanism. I could see it clearly now, and if I kept my arm high enough, the flames would only just lick the skin, nothing that would be bad enough to scar.

"Is there something that you are waiting for, female?" The question was not a question but an accusation, the flatness to the Wolf's tone a promise of something worse, some anger just barely hidden below the surface.

Perhaps he had been looking for someone to take his frustrations out on. Perhaps I had merely been walking down the wrong hall at the wrong time. Perhaps I was meant to fail in my task.

Perhaps that was not fair. Perhaps that did not matter.

Perhaps I was too stubborn for my own good.

"No, Sir," I said, "I apologize, Sir." With a steadying breath, I removed the iron screen in front of the fire, shifting it to the side as I leaned in as far as I dared, my cheek practically pressed up against the stonework side of the mantel.

Then a rush of heat, a swell of air pressing against my skin like a warm breeze as I reached into the fire, the movement so quick that the pain did not come until it was too late. Until my fingers just grazed the mechanism for the lever, and then my vision blurred.

Agony.

A pain that bloomed across the tender skin of my forearm; in my mind's eye it was not a red-toothed creature but a beast of pure white, and though my arm was only in there for a few seconds, they felt like minutes, an endless stretch of time where I was stuck there in that pit of pain.

My body took over for my mind, the heated metal of the mechanism stinging my fingers as I flicked it open, the warmth of the flame disappearing as I yanked out my arm.

Black soot coated the now charred fabric of my sleeve, but the destruction did not even register in my mind, my body shaking from the shock of the pain.

Gods, it stung.

My whole arm felt like it was pulsing, a stinging sensation coating the skin on the bottom half of my forearm, but I didn't dare look at it.

I clutched my arm against my chest, teeth gritted, my eyes squeezing shut at intervals as involuntary tears dripped down onto my cheeks.

No words escaped my lips, no whimpers or moans or complaints.

I was silent as a mouse, a good and obedient mouse.

Fuck, it stung.

I kept trying to remind myself that the pain was likely worse than the injury, and as soon as I was dismissed I could find a bit of cool water or even ice if Patty had some on hand.

So I waited.

And waited.

Kneeling there on the floor, my gaze not raising for fear of accidentally meeting the Wolf's eyes, I waited for him to dismiss me.

The Wolf shifted in his seat, releasing a lofty sigh that was loud enough to make me flinch.

"Do you see what you have done, female?" The Wolf rose, and I clutched my arm impossibly closer, the sting radiating up into an ache that reached all the way to my shoulder where the fire had not even touched me.

"Sir?" I whispered.

"There is soot on my floor." The Wolf towered behind me, tapping his foot on a small section of carpet that was dusted with soot.

The small mess was not even a result of my actions, but merely from taking the iron screen off the front of the fireplace.

I almost said that, my mouth opening and closing before I stopped myself.

"I am sorry," I scrambled up from my knees, "I will clean it up at once, Sir." I had hardly found my footing before the Wolf grabbed me, his large hand gripping the back of my neck like I was a petulant pet.

I yelped, but the sound was drowned out by a viscous growl; a gutteral warning cry that would have made the most fearsome predators stop in their tracks. And yet it did not frighten me at all.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?"