Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Gray

I have fucked up. I can't believe how badly I have fucked up. If I were to position this on a sliding scale from not fucked up to totally fucked up, I would be off the fucked up end and running for the hills.

Two city guardsmen arrive. The one who appears to be in charge goes by the name Anders. He stares down at the bodies bleeding all over the tavern floor and shakes his head while Tim explains in clear and concise terms what this is about. He seems to know the two guards enough to trust them with the real facts.

No one attempts to bind me, which would not end well, and less so given that the woman my wolf wants to mate with is separated from me by a mere set of stairs and a door.

My body trembles with my rage. I want to disembowel the dead bodies and smear their entrails across the floor. Drake stands attentively close. He knows my wolf is riding me hard. It has been a long time since I shifted. It is not safe to do so here, not even in the privacy of our room, for once my wolf is out, he will have only one thing on his fucking mind.

He prowls underneath the surface of my skin, lifting his head to sniff. He can scent her on us. He wants to feast on her and rut her into next week, to bite her and claim her.

As if I am not having enough trouble with control here, he lifts his head and howls inside my head until I fear I might go fucking mad.

Bastard.

It is his fucking fault we are in this position at all.

He chuffs at me. Disgruntled. And taunting me, too.

Fine, I can admit I would have killed the bastard who hurt our woman with my bare hands had my wolf not stepped in.

My woman. Fuck. I cannot think of her that way.

"I have been looking for this one for a while," Anders finally says, indicating the man accused of cheating. "He was due for a hanging when found. As for this other worthless bastard… I've had no end of trouble tonight. Five men will be hanging tomorrow, and all of them came from the same ship. See here" —he uses the tip of his boot to draw the man's lapel to the side, revealing a small motif— "I'll be glad when that ship leaves port for good."

Turning away from the body, he pins me with a look. Although he is a beta, he is not intimidated by me. "Could you not have used a fucking sword?"

I resist the urge to bare my teeth, just. As if I was thinking straight enough to use a sword.

"He was not thinking straight enough to use a sword," Drake says like he can read my fucking mind. "As Tim explained, his wolf has imprinted."

"So you're claiming a tavern wench, then, are you?" Anders demands, looking between Tim and me as though seeking to double-check.

"He is not claiming the wench," Drake says.

"The claiming part is to be determined," I counter. I have officially lost all my wits.

Drake rolls his eyes. If we were alone, I would take him by the throat and slam him against the nearest wall.

"The lass is betrothed," Tim offers, giving me a side-eye. "To the blacksmith's lad a few doors down."

"Callum?" Anders raises his bushy brows. "I know the lad and his father. I'm sure both will have something to say about that."

"Fine. I am not claiming the lass," I push past gritted teeth. "My wolf merely wants to."

"Good," Anders says, turning back to the matter at hand, which involves two dead bodies. "We are all on the same page here. It will not be cheap to clear up. Need to pay a few not to ask questions… and another who can be relied upon to drop the bodies…" He grimaces at the corpses. "Maybe run them over with a cart a time or two so that they don't look like they have been ripped apart by a giant fucking wolf."

A low growl rattles in my chest.

Drake puts his hand on my shoulder, and the sound stops.

"We have the necessary coin," Drake says. Reaching into his pocket, he draws out a heavy pouch and passes it across with a sigh.

Anders weighs it in his palm, nods, and then slips it into a pocket. "That'll cover it."

I do not doubt some of those coins will remain permanently in his care.

They are all business now, and an agreement has been made. A tarp is brought through, and the bodies are wrapped up.

In short order, the dead men are removed, and tavern staff bustle in to mop up the mess.

I'll need to give Tim a bag of coins, too.

"Stay out of trouble. The pair of you," Anders says, pinning us with a final glare. "The ship you're looking for is due in tomorrow. I trust that afterward, you will leave the city for good. We don't want any trouble here—got more than enough of our own. I don't like to see a man swing from the gallows when he doesn't need to, be him a shifter or not. But make no mistake. If you seek to poach Callum's lass, I'll be the first in the line seeing that you swing."

Warning issued, he lifts a hand in salute to Tim and stalks out.

I appreciate a man who talks plainly, even if I don't much like what he has to say.

Tim, Drake, and I stand apart from the tavern workers who are finishing setting the rest of the room to rights. I offer Tim an apology for bringing this trouble to his door… and another bag of coins.

"No apology needed on my part," Tim says. "But you'd do well to mind the guardsman's words. Bleakness is a troubled place, but there is much turmoil at present and beyond your own matters, which I know are important to you. With hindsight, I wish I'd closed the tavern for the night. Hate to think of Ada, nor any other lass, getting hurt."

"You weren't to know, Tim," Gareth says, joining us. "Not the first time we've seen a bit of bloodshed. Thankfully, it is not often."

The tavern is set to order, and the staff take their leave. Each one receives an extra coin from the bag I gave to Tim.

Alone now with Drake, we sit at our preferred table, where we sat not so long ago before the unraveling began.

"I fucked up," I say.

"Aye," Drake says. "You did. This is what happens when a man denies his wolf."

"I cannot fucking have her. As the guardsman was quick to point out, she is betrothed, and to that fucking whelp, no less."

"We both know he is not a whelp," Drake says. "And we both know her life is not free of complexity, for I'm now certain she is no more a beta than Callum is."

"What the fuck are you saying?" I demand, rubbing gritty eyes with the heel of my hand and wishing my wits would stretch beyond Ada's scent.

"The wench has addled your mind," he says—he is closer to the truth than he realizes. "One lass with two wolves sniffing around her… one of which has royal blood."

"Don't." My denial is stringent.

His low chuckle is devoid of humor.

"I don't know where you're going with this," he says. "But I sense destiny calling... Take some time to get your head straight. Try not to get into any strife while you do. The ship arrives tomorrow. Regardless of whatever decision you make regarding Ada, remember that your brother, and the shifter lass you are promised to, will be counting on us."

His footsteps fade as he leaves for our room.

I sit there as the last candle flickers and goes out, and then I sit some more.

Shadows fill the room; the fire has long burned down, with only a few embers glowing in the hearth.

And still, I sit there.

I wish I could say I was considering what to do, but for the most part, my mind is blank.

My wolf paces under my skin, sniffing.

I touched her. I had my arm around her—she threw herself at me, seeking my protection and comfort when she was frightened. Even after the danger had passed, she fucking clung to me. I had to pry her off to put her down.

Gods, why did I set her down?

My thoughts swirl and collide anew. Hope and agitation. I've made a fucking mess of this and cost myself a lot of coin—I might have cost myself my life. Not that I would have made it easy or gone down without a fight, but such routes carry risks for others beyond me, others who are not deserving of losing their chance at freedom due to my actions.

Drake speaks true. We have a mission. People are depending on us—on me —not to fuck up.

A faint creak rouses me, and my head whips around. Yet more creaks signify someone coming down the stairs.

Her scent reaches me first, alerting me to who it is.

I am lost in the shadows, and she does not notice me.

I notice her, though, everything from her caution to the fact that she is dressed.

Why is she dressed? Is she planning on sneaking out to meet with Callum?

My nostrils flare. No fucking way am I letting her wander the streets alone.

She stops as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and glances around. She is no shifter, and her eyes are not as good as mine in the gloom, but she stills and turns like she is trying to orient herself on me… almost like she knows I am here.

My wolf stands alert, his ears forward and tail high and proud.

"Ada."

She jumps before her eyes lock with mine. "Gray?"

I rise and move silently toward her like I am subject to a spell. Somehow I find the presence of mind to keep my movement slow and measured, trying to read her body language and scent lest I traumatize her or spook her.

"Aye, it is Gray."

I hear her swallow, and she glances over her shoulder as if considering running back up the stairs.

Don't run, little one, I silently encourage, lest you tempt my wolf to chase.