A King's Weakness (Book 1)

Chapter 10

CALAMITY, HUH? NOW WHY WOULDN'T YOU TELL ME YOUR real name?" Ryder growls playfully in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck.

I squirm against his hold, thrashing a bit as I struggle to get free. "Two reasons. One: everyone calls me Calla. Two: it's none of your goddamn business."

His arms loosen as he slides his hands down to rest on my hips. My back is pressed against his chest, his heart beating calmly against my shoulder blade. My body forgets how to breath with his this close, his pine scent enveloping me.

Ryder's voice is rough when he responds. "Lesson number one, Cal: always be prepared. Never let anyone sneak up on you. That's twice now that I've caught you by surprise."

Annoyance creeps across my skin like an instant case of the chickenpox, making me feel uncomfortable in my own body. It isn't that all consuming, fiery anger that sometimes—and by sometimes, I mean much too frequently—rears its ugly head, but it's enough for me to ram my elbow back into Ryder's chest. His hands drop from their position on my waist, and I whirl around to face him.

"Did you come here just to piss me off?" I snarl, careful to keep enough distance between us so that he can't grab me again.

He tilts his head to the side, a smirk curving his lips upwards. "No, that's just an added bonus. I came to teach you about being a wolf. You either don't know any of the rules or you take great pleasure in breaking them."

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. I will not tell him that it's the former—that I know absolutely nothing about what being a shifter entails. Until recently, I hadn't even known that shifters existed, and now the sum total of my knowledge is based on google searches and forum posts.

"Come on, Calla. Aren't you the least bit interested?"

Of course I am. Of course I want to know about that half of me, the half that my father gave me. So instead of looking a gift horse in the mouth—or whatever the saying is—I release a sigh and nod my head noncommittally.

Ryder's smile is blinding. "Let's go."

He brushes past me, intentionally bumping me with his shoulder as he strides towards the trees that mark the edge of the yard. Beyond that, there is only forest.

Briefly, I weigh my options. He could secretly be an axe murdering serial killer, or some guy that takes pleasure in amputating teenage girls' toes, but the odds of him being both a shifter and that sort of fucked up in the head are very slim.

Against my better judgement, I follow him.

*   *   *   *   *   *

The woods come alive all around me; small animals skitter into their hiding spots, birds coo softly to one another. Green is easily the most vibrant color here, tinting every tree, bush, and even the ground. The forest floor is springy from the recent rain, bouncing beneath the soles of my shoes.

I have never in my life felt so alive. My skin pricks from the sudden coolness the shade offers, a thrilling sensation. I want to run, to stretch my legs and lungs to their limit, to find the many small animals I can sense hiding from me—I want to just let go.

Instead, I walk quietly beside Ryder, my senses drinking in the world around me.

I can feel his pale blue eyes on my face, watching me as I savor each new scent, sound, and sight. After a minute of letting him stare at me, I turn my head slightly. "You know the saying—take a picture, it'll last longer," I tease, smirking when his eyes snap away from me.

"A picture could never do you justice," he responds matter-of-factly, lengthening his stride so that I have to jog to keep up.

Did he just compliment me?