Page 33 of Wolf Caged (Bound to the Shadow King #1)

I couldn’t ignore the gravity of him as he disappeared into the castle, the guards halting at the grand archway, only his sister following him inside.

That gravity pulled me towards him, had me following him too, moving swiftly and silently for fear he might hear me and stop me, my lungs still feeling too tight and my belly warmed in an unsettling way.

I tracked his scent into the gloom of his castle, steps light on the black marble floor of the broad entrance corridor.

It led me to a cathedral-like room that I had discovered only a day ago was the great hall—Kaeleron’s receiving room.

The great black arched wooden doors were ajar, but rather than slipping inside the expansive room, I pressed my hands to the beautiful carvings of nature on them and stilled right down to my breathing.

“Do not start on me, Vyr,” Kaeleron growled and the pressure of his presence increased, but not enough that I couldn’t breathe and felt as if I was about to be squashed into the elegant marble floor.

Either he constantly tempered his power now or I was growing more used to it.

I peeked around the door, gaze seeking him. He stood on the dais near his throne at the far end of the room, the two rows of ornate black columns carved with vines, leaves and stags that supported the ribs of the high vaulted ceiling filling the space between us.

The sight of him struck me hard again, a vision of power and strength, and darkness as he loomed at the top of the steps to his throne. A male ready to do battle, or perhaps one who had already fought one.

He looked weary.

Exhausted almost.

As if his mask had slipped and this was his true appearance, without all the false smirks and fierce shadows designed to disarm or strike fear into others.

He sank onto his throne. “Spare me the lecture.”

Jenavyr planted her hands on her hips. “I will not, brother. Had I realised you intended to go to Ereborne dressed for war, I might have stopped you. What a wonderful impression you must have made!”

Kaeleron snarled, “I know my duty. Do you remember yours?”

That verbal barb I didn’t understand seemed to hit its mark as Jenavyr fell quiet and lowered her head, but then she rallied and lifted it, looking right at her brother.

“I remember,” she bit out. “How could I ever forget? I am constantly reminded of it with every suitor Ereborne sends my way. It does not mean I have to like it.”

“And I remember mine, and it does not mean I have to like it either. We both have our burdens to bear, sister. I cannot forget mine, and you should not forget yours.” Kaeleron’s expression slowly darkened, shadows rising like a collar around his shoulders, snaking from the gaps between the metal plates of his armour.

“I did as expected of me. The visit is done and our continued support ensured. Do not think I enjoy this any more than you do.”

Jenavyr lingered a moment longer, her back to me so I couldn’t read her expression, and then she stormed away, exiting through the side door.

Had they been arguing about Jenavyr’s future marriage?

It was wrong that she had to wed someone she didn’t love, and I wanted to find her and tell her that, to comfort her when she had to feel she was on the verge of losing everything she loved in her life—her freedom, her position, and her brother.

And perhaps a certain vampire she claimed to hate.

Kaeleron sighed and then his gaze slid towards the door where I hid.

His tone was pure amusement as his voice traversed the one-hundred-and-fifty feet between us. “Hiding in shadows from a shadow king was not your brightest idea. What does my little lamb want from me?”

I stepped out from behind the door and huffed. “Nothing like you’re thinking, that’s for sure. I want my shadows gone.”

His smile was feline. “I could lift your shadows for you, blast them away from the corners of your soul and make you forget things for a while.”

“That was a poor attempt to seduce me.” I rolled my eyes as I approached him. “My guards. I meant my guards.”

But his teasing stirred something dangerous within me as I came to stand before him, drowning in his presence as he lounged on his throne, looking every bit the powerful dark king with his hair tousled from his helmet and his armour in place.

Silver eyes slid over me from head to toe and back again, the weariness that had been in them fading, erased by the heat that built there instead.

I stood my ground, refusing to squirm under the weight of his gaze.

“Did you miss me, little lamb?” His grin grew salacious as he canted his head, one of the braids he wore behind his ears falling away from his neck while the other caressed the corded length of it, drawing my gaze there.

“No,” I bit out, flat and matter of fact. “I have rather enjoyed the silence.”

“But not the confinement.”

“So you did order them to keep me locked in the castle.” I glared at him now, the heat of anger rising to almost overshadow that heat of desire his wicked smirk roused in me.

“Are you angry with me, little lamb?”

“Stop calling me that.” I was tired of always being compared with a lamb, a creature of innocence and purity, one that was weak and vulnerable. I bared my fangs at him. “I’m a wolf.”

“A lamb in wolf’s clothing,” he muttered, amusement shimmering in his eyes, all the fatigue I had seen hidden back beneath his mask again.

“I’m going to my room.” I pivoted on my heel, turning my back on him.

“I have an order for you.” That stopped me before I had even taken a step away from him, the coldness in his voice sending a chill tumbling down my spine as my mind raced forwards to imagine what his latest demand might be.

I slowly turned back towards him.

He prowled towards me, all menace and masculinity, his steps echoing with a metallic ring in the suddenly too small room.

All the air left my lungs and my heart kicked up a notch, thundering in my ears as he closed the distance between us, each step closer he came ratcheting that unbearable heat within me up another degree.

Until I was on fire.

On dangerous ground that felt ready to burn to ashes beneath me.

My wolf side snarled within me, a growl of pure hunger and domination, threatening and cajoling this male who held a dangerous power over me.

He stopped toe-to-toe with me, forcing me to tip my head back to hold his gaze, his scent and heat enveloping me.

“Remove my armour for me.”

Five words spoken in a low voice, barely a whisper, but as powerful as the tides, as the ocean and the moon. A command I felt right down to my soul as it sent the heat curling through my veins into the stratosphere and scalded my cheeks.

Strip him.

He wanted me to strip him.