Page 5 of The Wolf's Captive

Lifting my head, I stared into his gaze. His eyes were yellow, the irises almost spreading into the white as he studied me. Would he read into me to see who I really was? Maybe he knew Malone and could smell through all my tricks to hide my scent.

“You’re claimed,” he barked, dismissing me with a wave before shrugging Zoe off him.

Heat danced over my skin, lifting the hairs on my arm. A growl rose up my throat as the arrogant bastard slid his mask back over his face and waltzed over to a group of women, instantly slipping his hand around one of them and patting her arse.

“You like that misogynist pig?”

Shrugging, Zoe narrowed her gaze on me. “We have to like the alpha.”

Ugh, of course. He couldn’t have been anyone else, and yet, they allowed such a backward man to rule them?

“You never mentioned that you were mated. You hid that well.” Her pout was almost funny.

My insides quivered as I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It was hard to find a reply that justified my omission. My new friend would stop trusting me if I lied too hard.

“It’s complicated,” I replied, looking into her eyes.

She clearly saw the pleading behind my darkening gaze because she sighed gently before shrugging again. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me. Just…”

“Zoe?” a feminine voice purred behind us. “You look gorgeous.”

My new friend spun and almost threw herself into the stunning woman’s arms. The new she-wolf laughed happily as the pair hugged, clearly pleased to see one another.

“Ariella,” Zoe almost choked, “it’s been so long.”

Feeling a little uncomfortable as they stared into each other’s eyes, I backed away, slinking into the entrance hall before they could notice I was gone.

Sighing, I studied the stunning pink flowers that sprouted from the climbers that ran over the walls. The vines were starting to stretch up to the top balcony, so I followed them up the stairs.

“I heard she’s been back in town for a week but didn’t want to approach Zoe,” a female was telling a man who looked positivity bored.

When they spotted me, they smiled, their energy friendly despite the fact I’d just caught them gossiping. Their wolf scent reminded me of pastries and was similar to one another, which meant they were mated.

“Bonjour,” I greeted, nodding as I slipped around to the left and leant on the iron bar, watching as more pack members arrived.

As foreign as I felt, it was nice to be around other wolves. They greeted one another warmly, their smiles genuine. It was strange to be in a city surrounded by another pack. They had integrated into the streets of Paris, apparently going to the outskirts to run once a week. It was an alternative to the Brighton Pack’s basic camp. One that was quite attractive.

“I have my invite,” a tight voice said at the door, “just let me through.”

Before the guard could answer, a man stormed in, his long red PVC coat flapping in the breeze he created. His dark hair hung to his shoulders, poker straight and brushing the jacket as he looked around. The red velvet mask adorning his face matched his outfit perfectly.

My breath hitched as he glanced up, his eyes widening when they landed on me. The dark irises had a hint of green about them, and a flash of white covered them briefly. Shit, he was a warlock. A powerful one.

Swallowing, I backed away from the balcony and checked around me. Something about having a warlock in the vicinity put me on edge. He would be able to detect my witch side, if he hadn’t already.

My heart thumped loudly as I looked down, trying to see the man. I couldn’t spot his head, he must have moved into the room – wait – shit, he was coming up the steps.

Thrusting away from the wall, I squared my shoulder and marched across the landing, ready to descend the steps as soon as the warlock appeared. There was no way to escape up here, I’d have to face him head on. Hopefully he would be distracted by the wolves who had been gossiping about Zoe.

Sweat lined my palms as he appeared at the top of the stairs, his head instantly swinging in my direction. Ducking my gaze, I tried to go around him. Alas, he moved to block my way, his horrid jacket squeaking as he raised his hand, offering it for me to shake.

“Hello there, my friend,” he said in a strong London accent.

Inclining my head, I moved past him, determined to get down the steps. My whole being shook as I pleaded with the goddess to allow me to leave in peace. The bitch clearly wasn’t listening.

“Oh, no need to be like that,” the warlock said, throwing up a barrier spell so I was forced to stop.

I frowned, my teeth gritted as I turned and tilted my head to the side. “I’m sorry,” I said, “who made you fucking king?”