Castle

 

Sonia woke under the heavy hides, feeling the soft sheets and the traitorously pleasant ache that sat heavy in every muscle in her body.

Then her eyes opened.

She stared at Callum’s empty pillows and the memories of the last nine days crashed brutally into her brain.

Even while Callum was away battling the rebellion, Sonia spent that time adhering to his orders as given to her through Regan.

She was to train Kerry and Mabel in managing Clear as Diana couldn’t stay forever, nor, apparently, could Sonia. Under his edict she also began the process of hiring a new shop assistant who her girls would eventually choose and who would work alongside them. This was because Sonia, as soon as the rebellion was quashed, Regan told her, would be moving to Callum’s castle in Scotland.

She could not argue this “fact” with Regan as Regan had as little power as Sonia did.

Furthermore, Sonia couldn’t argue with Regan because Sonia spent those eight days with a very concerned mother. Her mother-in-law had lost a husband and son to this rebellion (Sonia learned) and she greatly feared for her family and her people.

Diana, Julianna, Helena, and half a dozen other mates, mothers, or sisters of warriors away at the fight spent time at her home, the latter of whom Sonia had not met until then. But, when Regan told her they lived close, she invited them to her home (comfort in numbers, Sonia thought). They all congregated with Sonia at her house, and as they would be, were also openly troubled.

Sonia tried to be calm and as upbeat as appropriate to soothe the worries of women (especially Regan) who she grew to care about in a short period of time. It was hard not to care about women whose faces were taut with anxiety and whose lives would be a misery if their warriors fell.

So Sonia kept the coffee going (in the mornings) and the wine flowing and food available (in the evenings) and did the best she could in a tense situation that seemed to last an age and not eight days.

Therefore, as Sonia was busy seeing to her female subjects while the males were at war, Sonia would have to argue with Callum when he got home about the fact that she intended to stay home and not move to his castle.

While Callum battled a faceless (to Sonia) enemy, Sonia waged her own battle.

A battle within.

She battled against her feelings of fear that he would be hurt (or worse).

She also battled to control her feelings of rage that he had again, for whatever demented Callum reason, fought to win a place in her heart and succeeded brilliantly, only to prove he didn’t belong there.

This was proved time and again after he took off her ring, handed it to his mother and left without a single glance at her house. A place where he built the best Christmas she’d had in decades only to end it by nonchalantly blowing down his own house of cards.

He proved it in making it known he was taking her away from her home, her friends, her business by doing nothing more than ordering it so and not even having the courtesy to order it to her face. He proved it by making her say good-bye to her friends and neighbors by, again, ordering it done. He proved it by making Regan take her shopping for the numerous clothes (how she needed more, Sonia would never know) that Regan told her would be required in her new home. He proved it by doing all of this without asking Sonia what she wanted, where she wanted to live, who she wanted to surround her, and what she wanted to wear.

Lastly, he proved it by his behavior the moment he arrived back safely from the fight and the hours after he swept her away.

Callum, her dream Callum, her handsome wolf, was a figment of her imagination.

No matter how he behaved sometimes, there was only King Callum, and she vowed in her head that she would always, always remember that.

 

* * * * *

 

The worst part started when Regan received a phone call in the kitchen and came rushing into the living room where Sonia was sitting with Julianna and Helena.

“It’s over! Victory is ours!” Regan shouted with delight. Julianna and Helena cried out their joy and Regan looked at Sonia. “Callum, Calder, Caleb, and Ryon are fine.” She looked at Helena. “Trenten is too.” She looked at Julianna. “Your brother is also with us and I’m sure Saint already knows his two brothers are safe.” Then she hugged herself and laughed out loud before Julianna, Helena, and Sonia surged up to hug her and each other, so great was their relief. Though Sonia’s, obviously, was mixed with other things as well.

Suddenly Regan grabbed Sonia’s face in both her hands and cried, “Oh sweetheart! I forgot! It’s time to get you prepared!”

Before explaining a word of this statement to Sonia, Regan started dashing around the house while Helena and Julianna, still wreathed in relieved smiles, gave her hugs and fond farewells, but, Sonia noted, no explanations.

Regan was banging around upstairs when Sonia finally joined her in her bedroom. The six suitcases and one large cosmetics bag they’d purchased three days earlier were all open and littering her bed, her window seat, and even the floor.

“The boys will be here soon. You go find the things that you want to take with you. Don’t worry if you miss something. Julianna can send it if you remember something you’d like to have.” Then she paused, whirled on Sonia, and exclaimed, “Oh no! The boxes are in the garage. I’ll need to go get them. You! Pack your clothes. I’ll run and do that.”

“Regan, what on earth?” Sonia started, but she was talking to no one. In the blink of an eye Regan was gone.

She followed her mother-in-law and found her in the kitchen for some reason struggling with large flat-folded cardboard boxes and tape.

Regan glanced her way before babbling, “We should have done this before but I didn’t want…just in case…” She hesitated. “Well, obviously, if something happened, you’d be staying here, so I didn’t…” She paused again and went on, “Anyway, Callum ordered me to do it, and if we don’t get it done by the time he arrives, he won’t be best pleased.”

Even though Sonia had no idea what Regan was talking about, she figured that last part was the sorry truth.

Regan continued, “And Caleb said Callum wants to leave for home the minute he gets to the city so we must be ready.”

“Regan, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sonia told her, and Regan stopped and looked at her as if perplexed.

“You’re moving to Scotland with Callum,” she replied. “I thought I explained that to you.”

“Yes, but—”

“There’s no time to waste, Sonny.” Regan threw down a box. “You do this. Build the boxes. There’s that bubble wrap stuff and tissue paper for packing in the garage. Anything you want from here, pack it up in the boxes. I’ll see to your clothes.”

“Regan—” Sonia started again but Regan’s phone rang.

She lifted a hand palm up for Sonia to stop speaking and she answered her phone. While listening, the palm went down but she twirled her hand adamantly toward the boxes.

On a sigh (even though Sonia was going nowhere), she started to build the boxes as Regan listened, mumbling, “Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Right.” Regan disconnected and announced, “We have less time than I expected. The boys will be here in an hour and a half. Let’s get cracking.”

Before Sonia could utter a word, Regan flew up the stairs.

Sonia stood amongst the boxes and decided, for Regan, she’d do as she was asked. She could easily unpack them later when she told Callum she wasn’t moving to Scotland.

An hour and a half later, Sonia stood staring out her window in shock as her six full suitcases, one full cosmetic case, Callum’s three suitcases, and five boxes full of her family’s Christmas decorations, her stuffed wolf, her photo albums, and a few odds and ends were whisked away by one of Callum’s men.

That’ll make unpacking tonight a bit more difficult, she thought as she bit her lip and worry began to nag her.

Any hope she had of staying put was dashed fifteen minutes later when Callum arrived.

The door opened and Sonia, sitting and enjoying a mug of herbal tea with Regan in the living room, got to her feet, turned to her mate, and opened her mouth.

She froze and stared.

Callum’s body, hair, and clothes were clean, although his clothing was wrinkled.

However, the beard that had grown in the weeks she’d been with him was now immensely thick and untrimmed. Further, his hair seemed to have grown tremendously in that short time and it went from overlong to just plain long, falling past the collar of his shirt.

Further, his face appeared so exhausted he looked almost haggard, something she would never have guessed as he always seemed alert and energized.

And his eyes were hungry and not in a good way. The lines beside them deeper, and they were positively seething, not with anger, but with wrath. A rage so deep, so strong, it emanated from him and filled the room with its terrifying intensity instantly.

He looked wild, even savage, and Sonia was frozen to the spot when Callum didn’t look at his mother, who had risen at Sonia’s side. He came directly at Sonia and she had the desire to flee, to run away from him as fast as she could. However, her terror was so absolute it felt her feet had grown roots into the floor.

She didn’t move a muscle when he used one arm to hook her brutally at the waist and yank her body so that it crashed into his. Then he used his other hand to twist viciously in her hair causing so much pain it didn’t feel sensuously pleasant, it only felt like pain. His mouth slammed down on hers and he kissed her in a way he’d never kissed her before. In a way that Sonia didn’t even know you could kiss.

It was violent and merciless and seizing and even cruel.

Therefore, when his head came up and he glanced dismissively at his mother, Sonia didn’t say a word.

“We’ll see you at home,” he growled, his voice rough with all that was in his eyes, all that was carved in his features and every line of his enraged frame.

Then he took Sonia’s hand and dragged her out to his SUV.

Yes, dragged.

She even tripped twice trying to keep up with his ground-eating strides and he didn’t even glance at her.

She was buckled in and he was speeding casually through the streets before she realized he hadn’t muttered a word to her.

He hadn’t even said hello.

She was too terrified of him to suggest it or say it to him.

Definitely too terrified to tell him she wasn’t going to Scotland.

He took her to an airfield, tossed the keys of the SUV to a waiting Saint, and dragged her up the steps into an aircraft.

When she got inside she saw to her shock it was a personal jet. There was a set of four wide comfortable seats upholstered in rich tan leather facing each other over a gleaming wood topped table, four more seats in the back, two on each side of a door. There was a bar and refrigerator on the wall opposite the jet’s door, the bar also made of highly shined wood where glasses and bottles were in snug secured shelves. There was a television screen on the wall behind the cockpit. And there was a long, wide, deep-seated couch running the opposite side to the seating area and bar.

Callum turned to her and commanded tersely, “Strap in.”

Looking into his forbidding hostile eyes, without a peep, Sonia did as she was told. She chose a seat at the back by the window and buckled in.

He stuck his head into the cockpit and said one word, “Go.”

Then he strapped himself in beside Sonia.

She tried to get her heart to stop beating so crazily. She tried to find one thread of courage. She tried to catch a single thought.

She failed at all of these things in the face of this new fearsome Callum.

When they leveled off in the air, again without saying a word to her, he unbuckled her, picked her up, and carried her to the couch.

Sonia tensed as Callum all but tossed her on it then came down on top of her.

With most of his body pinning her between him and the back of the couch, he tucked her face in his neck, and within moments, the tightness left his body, his enormous weight settled into her, and he fell fast asleep.

She was shocked at this, shocked silent and still for long minutes.

Then the shock wore off and she realized she was not comfortable nor was she tired, primarily because she was scared out of her mind. But anytime she tried to shift out from under him, his arm tightened reflexively, pulling her further underneath him.

So Sonia gave up and lay mostly under him, trying to get comfortable, sometimes dozing (as he slept for nine hours straight without moving a muscle), but most of the time deciding that she couldn’t live this life.

No matter how good they were, she couldn’t live for the times when Callum remembered she existed and at least attempted to be the mate he didn’t want to be but it was his duty to be as king. She couldn’t rail against the times when he forgot to do that and was just king.

She couldn’t bear this for a lifetime.

She knew she couldn’t leave, but she also couldn’t live like this.

She’d been right all those weeks ago. Living like this would drive her mad.

Before she came to a single conclusion and thus before she made that first plan, Callum woke.

It was moments before the captain announced over the intercom that they would shortly be landing and they needed to take their seats and fasten their seatbelts.

Callum used the restroom at the back as did she, finding it wasn’t a restroom but a full-on bathroom, four times the space as in a regular airplane’s. It even had a shower.

When she came out, his arm extended to her, he pulled her into his lap and kissed her, this time slowly, lingeringly, reminding her how good it could be and how much she missed it.

Her heart lurched as her belly tightened but her mind fought against the sweetness of it even as her body rebelled and relaxed into his.

Then he nuzzled her neck, flicking her ear with his nose, and he whispered, “Buckle in, baby doll. We’re almost home.”

She did as she was told, the frightening Callum still fresh in her mind even though his voice was no longer harsh, his eyes were no longer hungry or enraged, and his warm tone indicated an extreme sense of relief.

When they alighted from the plane, one tall dark-haired man was standing beside a hunter-green Range Rover that Callum, holding her hand, guided her to immediately.

The man was looking at Sonia curiously but he did not drop to a knee.

He bowed his head deeply to her and to Callum before he lifted his head and to Sonia, he murmured reverently, his Scottish burr evident even though he spoke two words, “My queen.” When she nodded and gave him a tremulous smile, he grinned at Callum and said, “She’s pretty, your grace.”

“Yes, she is, Drogan,” Callum answered as the man threw Callum a set of keys which Callum caught.

“Good to have you back,” Drogan called as Callum practically pushed Sonia into the left side passenger seat.

“It’s fucking good to be back,” Callum answered, slamming Sonia’s door without bothering to introduce her to Drogan.

“Hail victory, my king,” Drogan went on, his voice was soft, but it was also filled with pride and relief.

“Hail victory,” Callum repeated, his voice was threaded with a vein of steel.

Callum drove them through the darkening afternoon of a wooded countryside just as swiftly as he drove them to the airfield hours before.

She wanted to ask him to slow down.

She was too numb to speak.

He didn’t bother.

However, finally he said, “There she is.”

Sonia turned her head from her silent, angry, fearful contemplation of the countryside whizzing by on her left to look straight ahead.

On a small rise sat a castle.

In the waning light she saw it. Not exactly large and also not like any castle she’d ever seen in the times Gregor had taken her to France and Germany.

This one was like out of a fairytale.

It had eight (she counted them) turrets upon which long streaming pennants flew. It seemed to have no straight sides, no sharp angles. It was all rounded with sweeping edges. It didn’t ramble across the rise but was compact and tall, at least three stories, except the turrets, which were much higher.

She barely got a good look at it before Callum swung around the circular drive, which had a small round fountain dancing in the middle, stopped the Rover, and parked.

She also barely got a good look at the two statues (she could swear they were wolves) guarding the banisters on either side of the six (or seven, or even eight) foot wide set of steps. These led to the studded, wooden, arched double doors that seemed fifteen feet tall and had enormous, scrolled, iron hinges.

She also barely got a look at anything in the welcomingly lit interior as he dragged her up a winding stone staircase lit by sconces and cut by thin tapestries hanging on the rounded walls.

One flight, two, three, four, and on the landing of the fifth he walked them straight into the only room that led straight off the landing. A bedroom that she didn’t see at all.

Because she was concentrating on the fact that Callum was almost tearing her clothes from her body.

“Callum—” she began.

“Quiet,” he ordered in his kingly voice.

“Cal—”

He kissed her.

She struggled. Not against him but against the urge which was fighting to emerge during his deep, heady, hungry kiss. She struggled because she was never going to sleep with him.

Not ever again.

But concentrating on her inner battle, she lost track of him taking off every last stitch of her clothing.

So when she was naked and he had his hands on her bottom, lifted her, and threw her on the bed, but caught her ankles and yanked her forward at the same time he pulled her legs apart, she was losing the fight in her head.

And when Callum, still fully clothed, dropped to his knees beside the bed, that was when Sonia was lost and the urge took over because he bent forward and suddenly his mouth was between her legs.

The soles of her feet planted themselves at the edge of the bed. With a brazenly deep moan of pleasure starting at the core of her, tearing its way up her throat and through her lips, her hips surged up to meet the voracious consuming demands of his mouth. He cupped her bottom in his big hands and took from her like a man who’d been wandering a desert for days without water and had just dropped to his knees at the pool in an oasis.

In what seemed like seconds, Sonia came against his mouth. Her orgasm was so intense she barely noticed him flipping her to her belly then tugging her hips up. Her knees going into the edge of the bed, he entered her savagely.

The urge devoured her, causing her to reach her arms straight out in front of her and her fingers to fist in the hides there as he took her, rough and fast and hard. Then harder, then harder, and she met his every thrust with mindless abandon and reared back in desperation to deepen the contact. Her first orgasm seemed never to stop as the next one came and then the next before he seated himself to the root one last time, filling her full, and growled his release.

But he wasn’t done.

He took her again, Callum on top, Sonia wrapping her limbs around him and letting him ride her, again hard, again fast, again rough, until they both climaxed.

And he took her again, Callum behind her, his hands on her inner thighs holding her suspended and steady for his thrusts as she grasped the headboard of the bed, her head back on his shoulder, her whimpers piercing the air.

And he took her again, Sonia on top and riding his shaft, as Callum, sitting up, coaxed her to go faster with one hand on her hip and the other hand cupping her breast and feeding it to his mouth where he tormented her nipple.

And lastly, he took her again, but neither of them climaxed as they were spent, lying on their sides, spooning, his shaft sliding tenderly, almost lazily, in and out of her, and his arms were wrapped around her tight.

“Sleep, baby doll,” he whispered after he seated himself to the hilt and remained there.

Exhausted, all she could do was as he commanded.

Now, she lay in his bed in his castle in Scotland, her body exhausted and aching, but content by his play. Content in the knowledge that he again fell asleep inside her and she again fell asleep full of him. All of which she told herself she would never be and would never again do.

Humiliation crept into her muscles alongside the ache, and the bitterness that guarded her heart turned to hatred.

The tears of that bitter hatred started stinging the backs of her eyes when she heard a knock on the door.

She froze and stared, silent, hoping whoever it was (for it wasn’t Callum, she would smell him, and anyway, he would never bother to knock) would go away.

They didn’t.

The head of a tall, very pretty woman peeked around the door. She had dark hair burnished with coppery highlights and a huge smile on her face.

“You’re awake!” she said brightly, her words also softened by a Scottish burr, and she threw open the door, balancing a tray in one hand and closing the door behind her with a hefty kick of her foot.

Sonia sat up, holding the hides to her bared breasts. The woman, wearing jeans, boots, and a pretty, bright orange, woolly sweater with a fluffy scarf in orange, red and purple stripes wrapped around her neck, walked into the room. She put the tray on the bedside table and dropped immediately to a knee, head lowered.

Sonia stared at her, stunned.

Then she remembered what she was supposed to do.

“Please rise,” she invited, and with abundant energy that startled Sonia so much she jumped, the woman surged to her feet.

“My queen!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting ages! Everyone has! Ages and ages and ages! And look at you! You’re even prettier than I expected!”

“Um…” Sonia muttered, taken aback by her exuberance, and, of course, the small fact she was naked in bed and confronted with a stranger. “Thank you.”

The woman burst out laughing while she turned and rushed to Sonia’s six suitcases (and one cosmetics case) that somehow were all lined up with Callum’s cases in the room.

“She’s thanking me because she’s pretty,” the woman said to no one. “Hilarious!” she cried.

She then started opening suitcases in apparent abandon. She was digging through Sonia’s possessions while Sonia stared in shock, uncertain what to do and unable to do anything seeing as she was naked and the woman had four inches and at least fifty pounds on her.

“I’m Maraleena. I’m Drogan’s mate,” she announced while opening another suitcase and still digging. “Drogan is Steward of the King’s Estates.” She snatched something out of a suitcase and whirled, brandishing Sonia’s stretchy, black, cotton nightie with the deep hem of black lace and matching lace covering the cotton at the bosoms. “Ah ha!” she cried and rushed to Sonia. “You can put that on. Then you need to eat. Everything. King Callum said he wanted me to bring down a clean plate.”

Of course he did, Sonia thought but didn’t speak aloud as she took the nightgown Maraleena dropped on the bed beside her so the other woman could start pulling covers off food on the tray.

“You’re human, I forgot,” she said apropos of what Sonia thought was nothing but going back to her earlier subject. “Steward of the Estates means Drogan takes care of all things castle. You know, the plumbing and heating and the cars and the gardens and the forest and stuff like that. He also helps Callum with other stuff too, official stuff. Ho hum. Bo…ring!” she decreed, lifted the tray and Sonia had just pulled the nightgown down over her hips when Maraleena planted the tray on Sonia’s lap then she looked at Sonia and said, “I’m housekeeper, or I was. That means I take care of all things castle that are, you know, housekeeping things. Keeping it clean, doing the laundry, ironing, getting the food in. Though, I’m a terrible cook. Poor Drogan, he loves his food. His life is a misery with me.” She grinned a grin that belied her words and then carried on, “We’ve a she-wolf who sees to that, or saw to it, her name is Callista.”

Sonia’s astonished eyes went from her tray to Maraleena. And her tray, incidentally, consisted of two eggs over easy on what looked like two fried pieces of bread and sat next to a pile of baked beans, a pile of sautéed mushrooms, two rashers of bacon, two huge sausages, and two patties of some kind of meat that was black. This was accompanied by a toast caddy of four half-diamonds of perfectly toasted toast and three small bowls, one of butter, one of strawberry jam, and one of orange marmalade. This was finished off with a cafetière of coffee, a mug, a small jug filled with milk, a sugar bowl, and tiny salt and pepper shakers.

“She-wolf?” Sonia breathed, forgetting her food, and she watched as Maraleena went stock still and her face paled.

Then she blinked.

Then she stammered, “Oh, it’s just something we…it’s just. Well…” she spluttered, her eyes lit and she proclaimed, “King Callum is known as The Wolf!”

It was Sonia’s turn to blink at her, stunned silent by this news.

Callum was known as The Wolf?

The Wolf?

The Wolf?

Why had he not mentioned this to her?

Not once.

Not while she was calling him that, calling it out during her orgasms (as hideous as that memory was at the moment), cuddling her stuffed wolf, fiddling with the wolf charm his mother bought her or any time in between.

“King McDonagh was known as wolf too. Because of that we’re all known as wolves.” Maraleena beamed down at Sonia looking for some reason strangely pleased with herself and her announcement. “So, you know, if anyone mentions that, say, calls us wolves or she-wolves or…whatever, you know why.”

Sonia was only partially listening.

She was more hooked on the fact that she didn’t know Callum’s father’s full name was McDonagh.

She thought it was Mac.

Callum hadn’t told her that either.

And McDonagh was a strange name (not that some of Callum’s people didn’t have strange names).

Was it a last name? Was it Callum’s last name? Did Callum have a last name?

He’d never told her that either and she’d never (stupid, stupid her) thought to ask.

Not, of course, that she cared (anymore). It was just that his last name was probably her last name and she should know her own last name!

Maraleena, oblivious to Sonia’s rampaging thoughts, moved back to the suitcases. “King Callum and Drogan are down in his study going over things and beginning plans for the celebration and The Mating.” She lifted an armful of Sonia’s clothes out of an opened suitcase and turned to Sonia animatedly. “Two parties to ring in the New Year!” she shouted happily. “One of them the end of those terrible rebels and the other a Royal Mating! How exciting!”

Sonia thought she should reply or perhaps ask Maraleena what she was doing with Sonia’s clothes, but the former became moot when Maraleena babbled and the latter became obvious when Maraleena started to put them away.

Therefore, Sonia decided to eat and let Maraleena chatter.

“I figure King Callum will go big on both, The Mating definitely.” She threw a smile over her shoulder at Sonia as Sonia forked up some mushrooms and Maraleena dumped her clothes on top of a bureau and started sorting and kept talking.

Sonia took her prattle as an opportunity to look around and finally see her new bedroom.

The minute she did she stopped eating and stared about the room in wide-eyed wonder.

It was like no other room she’d seen.

The walls were not flat but rounded, however the room wasn’t a circle but seemed to go in waves.

And it was huge.

There were two, five-doored, dark wood wardrobes that went from floor to high ceiling and they also followed the wavy curves of the walls. There was a thin dresser but it was tall. There was a wider one with seven drawers and a longer one that had four drawers up and four abreast but was shorter (the one Maraleena was at presently). The walls not covered in furniture were covered in intricate tapestries that looked old but were definitely well-kept and hung from curving polished brass rails at the top edge of the wall.

There were many windows, all of them diamond paned and the glass was so old it was wavy as well, giving the gray, green, and white landscape beyond it an almost dreamy quality.

There was an oblong alcove set in one wall which was big enough to seat two and had a fluffy pad covered in hunter-green twill and humongous cushiony pillows scattered around in different shades of brown and green.

There was a circular fireplace that, she noted in shock, was in the middle of the room. It had what looked like a stone hood over it which served as a chimney. On one side of the fire was a half-circle comfy couch in a reddish-brown and on the other side were two cozy chairs with ottomans separated by a stout round table. The couch and chairs were also piled with big pillows, woolen throws, or soft animal hides.

The bed Sonia was in was bigger than any bed she’d ever seen, not only wider, but longer. It had four curtained posts and was covered in heavy, soft, dark hides stitched together. There were copious pillows across the head, the mattress was covered in soft, clay-colored, flannel sheets and Sonia was separated from the underside of the hides by a sheet of the same.

The floors were littered with rugs, all of different sizes, most of them large and thick and elaborately woven in browns, rusts, and greens.

Any part of the room not taken up by furniture, tapestries, or rugs was made up of a mellow golden-red-brown stone.

It was the most inviting, comfortable-looking, beautiful room she’d ever seen.

She immediately felt like crying.

For it was this room she sensed in some of her dreams. She knew it from the many times she’d see that golden-red-brown at the edges of her consciousness that wasn’t involved with her handsome wolf or saw the dancing of the firelight on his skin.

To bury these thoughts and halt the tears she could not shed in front of Maraleena, Sonia looked down at her plate and forced some egg into her mouth.

Then she glared at her crockery on her tray for it, too, was beautiful in a sturdy handsome way with the bottom of the plate and the outside of the bowls, mugs, and jugs being a rich earthen brown, but the inside was a gorgeous muted turquoise.

Of course, only Callum could have crockery that she instantly loved and therefore forced herself to instantly hate.

“…executed them all,” Maraleena was saying as Sonia pushed down the top of the cafetière, her words catching Sonia’s attention.

“Sorry?” Sonia asked.

Maraleena was zipping up an empty suitcase and setting it aside as she looked at Sonia.

“They should have executed them all,” Maraleena repeated.

“Who?”

“The rebels!” Maraleena exclaimed, not ceasing in her endeavors and heading toward another suitcase then repeatedly pulling out Sonia’s jeans and cords and piling them, folded double, on the couch. “A stroke of brilliance, we all think, King Callum handing down the order to slay them one by one until they signed the terms of surrender.”

Sonia sucked in breath and the oxygen burned her frozen lungs.

Slay them one by one? Sonia repeated in her brain.

“Nothing less than they deserved,” Maraleena muttered, again oblivious to Sonia’s reaction. “Lots of us feel they shouldn’t have stopped. This has been going on years. Years! And what they want, what they’re fighting for! And killing our males for. It’s revolting. Now, finally, it’s over.”

Sonia decided to get her system working by pouring coffee into it which always helped, and therefore, with studious precision in an attempt to stop her hand from shaking, she prepared her mug.

Callum had ordered the executions of men.

One by one.

Until they did what he wanted.

It was barbaric.

He was barbaric.

And he was her mate, her husband, now he was her king!

“Anyway, it’s a happy New Year with this business over and you seated in the lap of your king,” Maraleena declared while hanging Sonia’s pants on hangers. She threw another smile at Sonia as if she hadn’t just been crowing at the deaths of multitudes of men. “Everyone’s really excited.”

“I’m glad,” Sonia replied, but her voice sounded choked so she sipped her coffee.

It was delicious. But it didn’t help.

“You know,” Sonia started, wishing (desperately) to change the subject in an effort not to go stark raving mad. “I can do that.”

Maraleena froze while shoving the hangers with her pants on them in the wardrobe.

Slowly, she turned and bowed her head low.

Then, deferentially, she murmured, “Yes, my queen.”

But before her head bowed, Sonia saw a look on her face that was near to tragic.

“What?” Sonia asked before she remembered Callum telling her that Julianna would be offended if Sonia tried to help. So, quickly, she said, “Maraleena, I’m so sorry. I’m human and new to this royal business.” Maraleena’s head came up but her face had lost its cheerfulness as Sonia carried on, “I’m used to doing things for myself.”

“I suspected, as King Callum’s mate, you’d want to take care of him,” Maraleena replied in a dead voice.

Hardly, Sonia thought but did not say out loud.

“It’s not that, it’s just—” Sonia stopped speaking when the hint of a light of hope lit in Maraleena’s eyes.

Sonia made a decision, put the tray aside, and got out of bed. She walked to Maraleena, grabbed the surprised woman’s hand, and led her to the couch. Seating them both side by side, she faced the tall woman.

Then she explained, “Callum has been kind of busy. He hasn’t had time to tell me about the ways of your people and my people are very different. So, if you would, could you tell me what’s happening here because I need to understand it so I can…” Sonia trailed off, not knowing what to say then found her words. “Be a good queen.”

It sounded lame, but the hope built in Maraleena’s eyes, and obviously not a woman who needed a lot of coaxing to talk, she did so.

“Well, you see, as King Callum’s mate you can decide to take the running of the castle, you know, the cooking and cleaning and stuff. Queen Regan did it for King Mac.” When she stopped, Sonia smiled and nodded encouragingly for her to go on and the hope dimmed as she began to get nervous, but she sallied forth. “But, you see, this is my duty to my king but it’s also…” She hesitated. “My job. King Callum pays me to do it and Drogan and I just bought a bigger cottage because our pups are growing and we need the money, so if you—”

“You can keep your job,” Sonia cut in swiftly and the light flared bright in Maraleena’s eyes before she pulled a surprised Sonia in her arms and hugged her.

“Really?” she cried then went on before Sonia could reply. “Oh, I’m so happy! I’d been so worried since I heard he claimed you.” She pulled back and looked at Sonia. “Drogan said we shouldn’t get that cottage because we never knew when the king would find his mate and if she’d want the running of the castle.” She beamed. “But I told him not to worry. I had a feeling all would be well, and now you’re here and you’re so tiny and pretty and nice. And, I know it may sound crazy, but I love my job, I love this castle, and it’s an honor for anyone to be of service to our king.” She pulled Sonia in her arms and gave her another fierce hug with a whispered, “Thank you.”

Sonia hugged her back thinking she would like Maraleena, which was something good in a world that looked pretty dreary, and replied, “You’re welcome.”

Maraleena let her go and jumped up, quickly resuming work. “You better finish your breakfast. It’ll get cold and King Callum said you had to finish every bite.”

There it was. A reminder of her dreary world.

Sonia resumed her place in bed with her tray and she stared at the black patties.

“What’s this?” she asked, forking one up and showing it to Maraleena.

“Black sausage,” Maraleena answered after glancing at it and before zipping up another bag and setting it aside.

Something about her answer, though it probably wasn’t her answer, it was probably hysteria, caused Sonia to start giggling but she spoke through her laughter, “I can see that, Maraleena. It’s definitely black and it looks like a kind of sausage, but what is it?”

Maraleena grinned at her again and said, “Black sausage, blood sausage, you know, sausage made out of blood.”

Sonia paled.

Maraleena laughed.

“It’s really good. Try it,” Maraleena coaxed.

Sonia gulped.

“Honestly, try it,” Maraleena prompted. “I only get the best in. You’ll love it. King Callum does.”

Of course Callum would love sausage made out of blood. He’d probably drink blood if he could.

Wanting to be a good queen and nice to Maraleena, wincing the whole time, Sonia nibbled at the patty.

It was delicious.

So she decided she hated it.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Maraleena asked with a smile in her voice, watching Sonia closely.

“Yes. Lovely,” Sonia agreed, made a comical face, Maraleena burst out laughing again and got back to work.

As she did so, Sonia forced down too much food that she didn’t want even though she hadn’t eaten in ages. Alternately, when she could get a word in edgewise, she chatted with Maraleena as the woman finished with two more suitcases.

It was while Sonia was gulping down the last bit of toast with a sip of coffee that Callum arrived.

Sonia looked at him and her heart leaped into her throat.

He was wearing the chocolate brown corduroy shirt she bought him for Christmas over jeans that fit him well, and a pair of brown boots.

Since yesterday he’d had his hair trimmed but he’d also shaved off the beard.

Completely.

No stubble, nothing.

He was exactly the vision of her dream Callum. The vision she’d never seen in real life (except he was clothed).

She was so struck by the picture of him he was sitting on the bed grinning at her before she realized it.

Then he was leaning in, evading her coffee mug which she was holding aloft and her tray, to brush her lips with his.

He pulled only an inch away before he murmured, “Morning, my little one.”

“Morning,” she replied, but her voice sounded husky and low.

She cleared her throat.

His grin turned into a smile.

She wanted to conk him in the head with her coffee mug.

“Brilliant.” They both heard muttered from Maraleena and they both turned their heads to look at her.

She was clutching one of Sonia’s sweaters and watching them openly.

“You’re so cute and sweet together,” Maraleena noted, a big happy grin on her face. “Brilliant. I love it.” Her eyes moved to focus on Callum. “Hi there, your grace, welcome home.”

“Hello, Mara,” Callum returned, shifting so he was sitting in bed beside Sonia. Close beside her, his legs straight out in front of him, his back to the headboard, and he seized her mug of coffee from her fingers and took a sip.

Sonia clenched her teeth together at the unwanted (she was telling herself) intimacy.

Maraleena continued folding sweaters like she was in a couple’s bedroom every day seeing to her chores while they lounged in bed.

“Well done with routing the rebels,” Maraleena threw out casually on another sunny smile in their direction.

“Thanks,” Callum replied on a half laugh.

“It’s celebration time,” Maraleena noted gleefully.

“It is that,” Callum murmured on another sip of coffee, but his arm was pushing through the pillows at Sonia’s waist where it settled. His hand at her hip, finding the wolf charm through her nightgown, and as ever, he started fiddling with it.

Sonia tried not to look like she was seething while allowing herself, if only in her mind, to seethe.

“Can’t wait,” Maraleena muttered as she placed Sonia’s sweaters on a shelf in the wardrobe.

“Mara?” Callum called as he set the mug on the tray and then divested Sonia of it.

Maraleena turned to the bed with her brows raised.

“You want to do me a favor?” Callum asked, holding the tray out to her.

Maraleena’s eyes grew so bright they practically singed the room with their glow.

Then, for some reason, she burst out laughing, though Sonia was thinking that Maraleena did that on a regular basis. She rushed forward, nabbed the tray, and was out of the room before Sonia could make a peep.

The minute the door closed, Callum turned his body into hers, pulling her down into the bed so her head was on the pillows.

Then he kissed her, soft and sweet but also wet and lingeringly.

It was a great kiss.

Sonia’s body responded, but luckily her brain did not.

Nevertheless, she was breathing heavier when he lifted his lips from hers.

“Callum,” she whispered.

“You’re here,” he whispered back, his eyes full-on tawny, roaming her face, his fingers sifting through the hair at the side of her head. “In my arms, in my bed, in my home.”

She had to stop him. She couldn’t listen to this, couldn’t witness it again and want it just as much as she knew he’d never give it to her.

“Callum, I feel strange.” His head cocked to the side at her words and the warm look on his face vanished as his brows shot together. “Not that,” she said swiftly, she couldn’t bear his false loving concern, not again. “Just, I think jetlag or something. All that food. Everything went so fast yesterday. I feel weird. I think I need a shower and more coffee—”

She stopped speaking because his face relaxed and he touched his mouth to hers.

“Take a shower, baby doll,” he allowed (would she ever get used to him telling her what she could and couldn’t do and when she could and couldn’t do it?). “I’ve got a few things to do but I’ll come back and take you on a tour of your new home.” His head bent and he nuzzled her neck a moment before he marked her hair with his temple and lifted his head again. “You’ll take it easy a few days, get acclimatized. Is that good?”

Was he asking like he cared about her answer or was it a rhetorical question?

She answered the only way she could. “That’s good.”

He grinned at her.

She loved his grin just as much as she told herself she hated it.

He pushed away from her and exited the bed.

She looked at the big room and called out to him, “Callum?”

He glanced down at her, brows raised.

“Um, where’s the bathroom?”

She really hoped it wasn’t on another floor or something. That would be awful, climbing down those winding stone steps should she need the facilities in the middle of the night.

He smiled, planted a fist in the bed on either side of her, touched his lips (again!) to hers, pushed away, and then walked across the room and opened a door that was in a tapestry. The tapestry was affixed to the door in a way that it looked a seamless part of the bigger tapestry all around it. The doorknob, too, was hidden in the tapestry’s design.

It was very neat and super clever.

She didn’t share this with Callum.

She just threw back the hides (really? who slept under hides?), got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom.

Callum stalled her progress by hooking an arm around her stomach and she twisted her neck and looked up at him.

“I’m anxious to show you your new home, honey,” he murmured, before kissing her forehead and finishing by ordering gently, but definitely kingly, “You have an hour.”

Then he was gone.

She was glad for the reminder that he was king.

And the reminder that, even if she was queen and not of his people, she was still nothing but a subject.

 

* * * * *

 

The bathroom was (almost) as nice as the bedroom. The walls and floors were still that stone but there was a big brass towel warmer, a huge circular tub in a very pretty shade of rust, and a shower cubical tiled in rich-colored tiles. The ceramic basin was rust-colored and set in more of that mellow golden-red-brown stone. There was a set of shelves inset in a wall with stacks of fluffy neatly folded towels. The shelves also bore pretty stoneware boxes and trays that Sonia would love to fill with her girlie bits and bobs. There was a huge round mirror over the basin surrounded on the top half with brass lights. And last, twin, narrow, thin handsome cabinets on the walls on either side of the recessed basin.

Seriously, so far, Sonia could see why everyone was so happy in this castle.

She tried to hate it, she just couldn’t.

She lugged her cosmetics case into the bathroom, found her stuff, took a quick shower, and did the best she could do with her hair and makeup when she didn’t know where anything was.

Luckily, there was a blow dryer (as hers didn’t have the right plug) and fortunately, when she was ready, she didn’t look a fright as one wouldn’t want to look when one was possibly meeting their new subjects as their new queen.

She decided not to wait for Callum (he hadn’t ordered her to stay in the room) and she started wandering on her own.

The bedroom was the best of all but it was also the best room Sonia had ever seen in her life. But the rest was still really, really good.

It was all decorated in warm, rich, manly shades. The furniture was handsome and comfortable looking. There were lots of pillows and snug throws and hides tossed everywhere, all of it inviting as well as beautiful. There were tons of circular fireplaces in other rooms, not to mention wavy walls, and diamond-paned windows.

It was magical.

Sonia wanted to hate that too but she couldn’t.

In her new life she’d have Regan and probably Maraleena and of course Ryon and Caleb and maybe Calder, though he hadn’t been around as much and sometimes he could be surly so she didn’t know what to make of him yet.

And she’d have the castle.

That just wasn’t enough.

But, she decided, it was all there was going to be.

For, she decided, she’d tell Callum she’d do her duties as his queen but she wouldn’t be his mate.

Last night was the last night they’d have.

Forever.

She was standing in what she guessed was a living room, though all of them kind of looked like that. Or at least as far as she got, except she found a library and what appeared to be a knitting room as there were huge skeins of wool in big wide-woven baskets by the comfy chairs. She was staring out the window at the landscape (mostly tall, rolling, snow covered woods, as far as she could see) when Callum found her.

She tensed, expecting him to be angry that she’d started the tour on her own. But he just strode right up to her, shifting to stand at her back. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to his front, and dipped his head to kiss her neck.

She told herself she shivered because she was cold (though that wasn’t the reason).

And she decided now was as good a time as any.

Sonia opened her mouth to speak, but Callum beat her to it.

“Have you liked what you’ve seen, little one?”

“Yes, you have a lovely home,” she told him and then went on, “Callum—”

He interrupted by correcting her, “We have a lovely home.”

“Yes. Right. Cal—”

He cut her off yet again, informing her, “We’re planning a victory celebration first. I owe it to my men. All the warriors who fought will be arriving over the next few weeks and my guard returning home.” He gave her a squeeze and his voice dipped low. “Then, two weeks later, we’ll have The Royal Mating.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and asked, “Are you okay with that?”

As she didn’t know what a Mating was, even though she heard a lot of talk about it, she couldn’t exactly say.

As she didn’t feel like there was anything to celebrate, though, the answer was “no.”

“Callum—” she began again.

“There you are.” She heard a man say and both she and Callum (though Callum didn’t let her go) turned to the door to see Drogan entering while smiling.

He started to drop to a knee but Sonia blurted out, “No!” and his head jerked up as Callum’s body went solid.

Oh good goodness.

She’d done something wrong.

Drogan looked questioningly at Callum.

“Keep your feet,” Callum told him, his voice purely kingly and sounding annoyed.

Sonia needed to cover.

“I did something wrong,” she stated, to which neither man replied so she ventured forth. “It’s just that, in your…I mean our home, it should be casual. People should feel comfortable and not…you know…” she trailed off and twisted her head to look at Callum before asking, “Shouldn’t it?”

Callum looked as annoyed as he’d sounded (and as kingly).

He didn’t speak.

Sonia’s heart started beating madly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just not used to people bowing to me and it makes me uncomfortable.”

There was a long moment of silence before Callum sighed.

He let her go and looked at Drogan. “Your queen doesn’t want you to take a knee in the castle, inform Mara and Callista.”

“Of course, your grace,” Drogan said, but his mouth was twitching and he thankfully changed the subject by informing Callum, “There’s an urgent call from Duke Ryon.”

Callum nodded, curled a hand around her neck, and brought her close for a kiss on the top of her head before he started to the door. “Sonia needs coffee. Can you show her to the kitchens so Mara can get her some? Have Mara bring her to me in my study when she’s done.”

He didn’t wait for a reply as he disappeared out the door.

Drogan came forward and held his crooked arm out, inviting, “Let’s get you some coffee.”

She took in a breath, let it out, and slid her arm through his.

He escorted her out the door as she announced, “So far, I’m not good at being queen.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied and she looked up at him to see he was grinning. “His grace seemed very pleased this morning with the reports we heard that, during the battles, you’d taken our women into your home, kept them company, and tried to keep their spirits up even as your own mate was fighting.”

Sonia told herself that the warm feeling that bloomed in her belly was not the feeling of pride at his words (when it was).

“Okay then, I think it’s all the royal stuff I’m not good at. The rules and the protocol,” she went on.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Mara to explain it to you. She’d love that,” Drogan told her.

If Maraleena was the talker she seemed at their first meeting then Sonia was pretty certain she’d love it too, so would Sonia.

“That’s a great idea.” She smiled up at Drogan.

They’d gone down two flights of stairs and were in a hallway when Drogan stopped her and stated, “You should know, Cal doesn’t like all that official stuff either. I only call him ‘your grace’ in company. I’ve been in his service and the service of his father for so long I never bow anything but my head to him and neither does Mara or Callista.”

She stared up at him in astonishment, not believing a word he said, and also shocked because he, too, looked old enough to be Callum’s brother, not to have served his father.

“But he was just so…so…annoyed in there,” she protested.

“You’re his mate and my queen. It’s my duty to kneel before you, and I’m sorry, Sonia, I know it’s different amongst your kind, but it’s Cal’s right to tell me that I don’t have to do so.”

Now how had she forgotten that?

“Of course,” she murmured.

“You’ll learn in time,” he said kindly, patting her hand, and then went on to say mysteriously, “Or he will.” When her brows shot up, he chuckled and finished, “Let’s get you coffee.”

He took her to the friendly warm (both in looks and in temperature) kitchens (three rooms!) where she met Callista, who was less chatty, not as tall, but definitely as friendly as Maraleena. Drogan left after depositing her with the women. They gave her a tour of the kitchens, Sonia had a cup of coffee, and then all too soon Maraleena led her back to Callum.

His study was also a beautiful room with inviting furniture but included a big heavily carved desk with two huge chairs facing it. There wasn’t a circular fireplace in the middle but a cavernous one behind his chair at the desk in front of which stood a tall, intricately wrought iron grate.

Callum was seated in that chair. He was on the phone, but the minute she walked into the room, his eyes came to her and his arm went out to the side.

He wanted her in his lap.

She had to admit she’d been getting used to the lap business and in the end, liking it.

She didn’t like it anymore.

“See you later,” Maraleena whispered and then walked out, leaving Sonia alone with her mate.

With nothing for it, she approached him and sat silently in his lap as he talked on the phone, obviously to Ryon. She knew this because he kept saying “Ry,” not because she was a sleuth that deciphered it from clues in his side of the conversation.

When he finally rang off, she instantly wished his attention was on the phone again for it came directly to her.

Both of his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her closer to him.

“Have you been taking your injections twice a day?” he asked, surprising her with his subject.

“Yes, Regan told me you told her that Dr. Mortenson said I should.”

“Did you take them only when she was there?”

She nodded and tried not to clench her teeth at his domineering. Seriously, he acted like she’d never taken an injection before he stormed into her life.

“Have you taken one today?” he queried.

Her body jerked and she stared at him.

“No, I didn’t think. My clock is off. I don’t even know if it’s due,” she told him stupidly, for it had to be due. It had been hours since the last one.

“We’ll go up and do it in a minute,” he stated, luckily without anger, then went on to ask, “Did Dr. Mortenson get the test results back?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. He didn’t call. It can take a while sometimes.”

Callum looked away and muttered, “I’ll call him.”

Sonia took in a deep breath and then opened her mouth to speak.

He turned back to her and again beat her to it.

“Don’t do that again, Sonia.”

She snapped her mouth shut.

Then, even though she knew to what he was referring, she asked sharply, “What?”

“It was explained to you that my people defer to me when we’re together. They will defer to you when you aren’t with me, but I give the commands when we’re together,” he told her patiently. “You don’t need to keep silent anywhere but during official business, but you don’t make a command like you did today with Drogan when I’m at your side.”

Sonia forgot the subject she wanted to talk about and decided his subject was an excellent one to be on.

“And I explained to you that I thought that was medieval.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw, indicating, perhaps, he was no longer patient when he replied, “Yes, you did. And I believe I told you at that time that it was the way of my people.”

She straightened in his lap. “Yes, and I believe that it was also once the way of my people to treat diseases by using leeches, but they found another way that works a whole lot better so now they’re doing that.”

The gold started to penetrate the blue in his eyes when he stated in a low vibrating tone, “Baby doll, a warning, you want rough play, for once, I have the time to give it to you.”

She’d learned what that meant and there was not going to be any of that.

“I don’t want rough play. I don’t want any play,” she announced and the gold shot forth, obliterating the blue as his hand trailed up her spine.

“Now, that sounded like a challenge.”

Oh no! Now what had she done?

She had to think fast.

She managed it just as his fingers slid in her hair and put pressure there to bring her mouth to his. “It wasn’t a challenge, Callum,” she whispered. “Last night was…” She fought for a word and found it. “Vigorous.” His tawny eyes instantly lit with humor upon hearing her word (and they also lit with something else entirely) and he grinned before she finished, “I ache a little bit.”

At once, the humor swept from his features. His hand in her hair kept putting on the pressure but only to tuck her forehead into his neck.

“Poor baby,” he murmured. “Jetlagged and misused by her king.” His hand slid to her neck and started massaging and she told herself it didn’t feel good (when it did). “I’m sorry, honey,” he went on softly. “After a battle, one like that…” She tensed at his words and he sighed. “Being away from you was not good.”

She wished she could believe him.

She really, really did.

He bent his neck to kiss her forehead and then said, “We’ll give you your medicine, I’ll show you your new home, and then I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day. Yes?”

Again she wondered if it was a genuine question or a rhetorical one.

She learned it was rhetorical for he lifted her off his lap and took her to their bedroom. He located her medication and gave her the injection and she found, as much as she hated to admit it, that she’d missed emerging from the burn in the strong safety of his arms.

He spent some time showing her her new home and it was obvious as he did it, in the pride that was evident in his words and his features, that he loved this castle. Then again, there was a lot to love, not only in how it looked and how much there was of it, but how it felt.

They went to the library where he ordered her to find a book, which she did, then he took her back to his study.

He deposited her on the big fluffy couch which was under a diamond-paned window, just as the snow started to fall outside.

He threw a warm woolen throw over her body and tucked it tight around her hips and legs and arranged a pillow behind her head. After he settled her, he picked up the phone and ordered Maraleena to bring them lunch.

He went to his desk and made calls, went through mail, and eventually started writing notes. She set her book aside and stared out at the snow wondering how she managed to find herself trapped in a fairytale castle with a fairytale king when all of it was real but none of it was true (except, of course, the castle).

Callum ate lunch at his desk.

Sonia defied his unspoken command to clean her plate and picked at her food because she was nowhere near finished processing her enormous breakfast.

Callum didn’t have the chance to confront her for she curled up on the fluffy couch under her woolen throw with her hands under her cheek and fell asleep.

So she was asleep and missed it when her king glanced her way and his face grew soft.

And she missed it when he walked to her on the couch and sat in the crook of her lap.

And she missed it when he slid her hair off her neck but tucked the throw tight around her shoulder so she wouldn’t get a chill.

And she missed his soft kiss at her temple before he dropped his forehead there.

And she missed him whispering in her ear in a voice threaded with an emotion that even Sonia couldn’t have misunderstood, “Fuck, baby doll, I missed you so fucking much.”