Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Ada

I am still glowing, and it has been three days since Callum and I declared our love. Not so long ago, I was dressed in tatters, working at the fish market and dodging my wicked father's fists. Now, I have a job, a safe place to stay, and food in my belly.

More than that, I now have Callum.

The very next day, he told me, a glint in his eyes, how he was getting a new bed commissioned from his neighboring woodworker, one as was befitting of our marital status and all we might want to do.

He slipped by earlier today with the news: it will be ready by the end of the week… which is the day we shall wed.

I cannot wait.

My impatience is made worse that he will not do more than kiss me until then, saying how the next time he takes me, we shall be in our bed and when we have all night.

The waiting will kill me.

There is the small matter, or not so small—depending on how one views it—of him being an alpha. At least, I have come to believe that that is what he is. If only I could get another look at his… cock, I might be able to verify what I thought I saw, what I thought I felt. In the days since we were last intimate, I have gone over things many times, convincing myself that what I saw was a mistake and then reminding myself that one does not make mistakes about things like that. I wonder how it might play out if he really is an alpha when so few live in Bleakness.

Maybe he already knows and is keeping it a secret?

No matter. I love him either way, and whatever he is. If he seeks to keep this a secret, I am sure he has good reasons to do so.

I thought nothing could wipe my smile off my face, but then a scowling Master Gray and his companion, Drake, enter the tavern late on Thursday night. His scent seems particularly potent, and it slams into me, bringing a strange lethargy to my limbs and slick arousal pooling between my thighs.

His nostrils flare, and his eyes bore into me.

Gods, he is so handsome and intense as he holds me captive with nothing but a look.

He has just asked me something, but my befuddled mind cannot recall what.

"There is only the potted pork pie left," I finally stammer when I remember he just asked for a bowl of stew.

Drake chuckles like this is a big joke. "I'll take a pint of Pilkington, lass, and a cheese and ham sandwich if your fine cook can still rustle one up."

"Just the ale," Gray all but growls.

I hasten off, feeling out of sorts and confused as to why my body responds and, further, why I care about his mood. It is not like he smiles often—now that I think about it, I don't believe I have seen him smile even once.

The tavern is packed, due to several ships coming into port, swelling it with rowdy seamen. They are generally a good bunch with easygoing dispositions, yet there is something off about some among those here tonight. They carry an edge of danger and a roughness I can't quite put my finger on, but which builds the same churning unease within me that my father's presence used to.

I do my best to ignore it. Callum is working late tonight, seeking to finish an urgent order with his pa so we might have a little time after the wedding.

A wedding— my wedding that is in only a few days.

My dreamy state is disrupted when a fight breaks out. I stand behind the bar as Tim and Gareth wade in and toss the perpetrators out. It happens occasionally, usually later in the evening when men are deep into the cups. It is not the locals who kick off this kind of trouble, for Tim won't let a man back in again if he has caused trouble once. These are not local men. They are new to Bleakness. They have no allegiance to the tavern or anybody else.

Even Betsy looks a little harried as she joins me. "Goddess, I will be glad when the ship leaves the port," she says. "I swear every man among them is looking for mischief."

The night continues to go downhill from there. Another fight and another three customers are tossed out on their asses.

Gray and Drake stay in their corner, supping ale and deep in discussion. I am taking over fresh pints to them when a ruckus kicks off at the table beside them.

"Cheating bastard," a sailor cries. Standing, he upends the table with a roar.

I try to dart out of the way, but I'm not fast enough. The sailor's fist swings, and the man accused of cheating is sent bowling into me. My feet are knocked from under me, and I am sent flying backward. Only it is not the nearby table or the floor I crash into, but the hard wall of a body. A strong arm clamps around my waist, holding me protectively close as his other arm swings up and around.

I gasp, seeing the glint of huge claws… and then a spray of blood as they slice through two men.

More cries go up around the tavern.

The man who threw the first punch lies dead on the floor, blood pooling around his body. The second one, the card shark, is twitching beside him, a vicious set of claw marks opening up his chest.

My breathing is fast and erratic, and my eyes feel unnaturally wide as Drake strides forward, drawing a dagger from his hip to slit the twitching man's throat. He spits on the body for good measure as screaming customers surge toward the front door.

Tim and Gareth are swift to toss out any who seek to linger.

I'm shaking uncontrollably. The body behind me vibrates with tension while his chest rattles with menace. When I glance down, I find his left hand is still that of a beast, tipped by a set of lethal-looking claws that drip with blood.

Gray.

His actions should terrify me, yet I wriggle in his arms until I can turn. And then I throw my arms around his neck and try to crawl up him. He cleaves me tightly to him. And I bury my nose against his throat. A strange rattle emanates from my chest. It sounds almost like a manic purr.

"Fuck," Gareth says, before taking a heavy sigh.

There is quiet in the tavern, but I know Tim and Gareth are standing nearby, and Betsy is over by the bar. Gray holds me tightly.

"We'll need to call the city guardsmen," Tim says. "Make sure it's Anders. He will handle this quietly for us."

A tavern lad hastens out the door, bringing a blast of icy wind.

"His wolf is imprinting," Drake says. "He couldn't help it."

Issuing a rattling growl that gives me goosebumps, Gray turns his back on the discussion and strides for the corner of the room, shielding me from what happened.

"I recognize that bastard," Gareth says. "If I'd noticed him earlier, I'd have booted him out. He is known for cheating at cards. It's not the first fight he has caused. It's a pity you didn't use a sword—we might have passed it off as them killing each other. The other one was looking for trouble, too. They were all fucking looking for trouble tonight."

I'm shaking so hard that my teeth rattle, trying to make sense of the conversation and failing. I want Callum, but I also don't want to let go of Gray.

Hearing footsteps approach, I cling tighter.

"Let the lass go," Drake says.

Gray's head whips around, and he snarls at his companion, tightening his hold and nearly crushing me.

I welcome it, the sense of being safe from everything… everything but him. For the most part, I have put aside all thoughts of him having an inner wolf. Tonight, that part of him is front and center, for there are two slain bodies on the floor. While Drake made the killing blow on the second, I sensed the wound was mortal, and his act was one of compassion.

An act that is perhaps unwarranted when I consider the man in question was a card shark known for causing trouble.

"You need to let her go," Drake says softly. "Betsy is here. She can take Ada to her room where she will be safe."

The tavern door slams open, and I peek over Gray's shoulder to see the tavern lad return, accompanied by two city guardsmen.

"Let her go, Gray," Drake encourages. "The lass does not need to bear witness to more."

Gray's growl shifts to a lighter purr. I feel his nose against my hair as he sniffs deeply, drawing my scent in.

He releases me slowly. Distraught by the development, I cling, forcing him to pry me off before he lowers my feet to the floor.

I stare up at him, my eyes full of tears and my lips trembling. He is still a wall between me and the rest of the tavern. Had he not acted so swiftly, I could have been badly hurt. He has killed a man for me—two of them.

He gently cups the side of my face. I turn into his touch, seeking more.

I am conflicted. Confused. I have spent a lot of time around Gray confused.

Then he steps back, and the spell is broken. I notice Betsy standing to the side, her face ashen.

"Come on, lass." She holds out her hand. "I'll take you up to your room."

I glance up at Gray. He nods.

I step away from him, feeling a sense of separation so acute that it is all I can do to put one foot before the other. Barely sparing a glance for the rest of the room, I take Betsy's hand and let her guide me out of the room and up the stairs to my attic bedroom.

One of the serving lasses follows behind. She passes a flask to Betsy, who takes it with a nod and hands it to me.

"Here, drink some of this, Ada," she says. "It'll help with the shaking, at least."

I take a gulp, feeling it burn a passage down my throat before it settles fire in my gut. I take another drink.

"I think that's enough," Betsy says as she liberates me of the flask and returns it to the serving lass. "Go on, May. I'll help Ada get settled down. Keep an eye downstairs, would you? Let us know if you hear aught. I'll be down shortly."

May leaves, and Betsy helps me undress, undoes my boots, and passes me my nightgown to slip on.

She leans in to kiss my cheek. "Did the brandy help?"

I nod and offer a watery smile.

"Do you want me to fetch Callum?" Her earnest eyes search mine.

I shake my head quickly.

Her face softens. "My pa would not think aught of it if that is what worries you. And, besides, Callum is your betrothed now, and no one would judge were he to slip in the bed beside you and hold you."

"I don't know why," I say honestly. "But I don't want Callum to see me like this." I don't voice the strange, unsettled feeling in my belly, the one that makes me want to go to Gray, to stand beside him as he learns his fate, to soothe his inner wolf who has imprinted on me and must be scared and anxious with me out of his sight. "Will Gray get into trouble?"

"I don't know." Betsy shrugs, her face solemn. "Maybe. Maybe not. If what Drake said was true and his wolf has imprinted, that might be considered mitigating circumstances."

Imprinted. The term is unfamiliar to me, yet the strange fluttering inside tells me all I need to know.

Betsy brushes my hair behind my ear. "Go on, lass. He has not been able to keep his eyes off you since the day he first arrived. I'm not surprised to learn his wolf has taken to you and considers you his mate. But Gray is here on business, and that business will likely take him away… Even if his actions don't see him hanged for killing a man."

And now I feel sick.

"Pa has contacts within the city guardsmen. He will do all he can to ensure this is dealt with swiftly and quietly. It is not good for the tavern or anyone in Bleakness to have shifters tried for murder. It brings attention to matters we would all soon see kept secret."

I nod. The sickness does not abate.

"Try to get some rest," she says as she helps me into bed. "If I have news, I will come up and let you know… I'll pop by later to check on you either way."

My hand reaches out to take hers. "Thank you, Betsy, for everything. But most of all, for being my friend."

"Always, lass," she says. "Always." Offering a weak smile, she slips out of my room.

Alone, the tears begin to fall. I twist to peer up through the window. Tonight, the moon is hidden behind clouds. "Thank you, Master Gray, for protecting me. I pray that you shall not be punished as a result."