Callan
For you.
He felt the words ring true right down to his core. There was no avoiding it, no classifying it as a case of mistaken understanding. His dragon called triumphantly, urging him to mate with her, to form the bond it desired so badly and was obsessed with having. That it craved desperately, a bond he’d suffered without for too long it felt. She was here, now, right in front of him.
His mate.
“I don’t understand.”
Callan almost slipped up. He almost explained to her the truth of everything. That he was a dragon who thought that she was his mate. It would have been so easy to tell her right then and there. To reveal his real nature to her.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not until he was positive about what was going on between them. Until then, he would need to keep it and his heritage a secret from her. Callan hated not telling the complete truth, but he didn’t want to scare her away in case his dragon was right.
“Because I need to right a wrong,” he said instead, focusing on getting all the glass off the floor.
“You do?”
He tossed the remnants into the bag and started drying the floor, getting the bits and pieces of glass caught up in the paper towel and dropping them into the bag as he went.
“Yes. Why else would you have called and told them to make sure I don’t come around anymore? I clearly wronged you somehow, and I’m here to make up for it.”
Kathryn snorted. “You aren’t much for following rules then, are you?”
“Not when they don’t make sense, no.”
“You don’t think this makes sense?”
He turned until he was looking at her directly, crouched down on his haunches, his massive size making them almost eye level with one another. “No, it doesn’t. Last night we had a good time. And if this is your knee-jerk reaction to your mother walking in, then you must have had very uneventful teenage years to do something like this.”
Kathryn looked away first, her brown eyes unwilling to meet his gaze, knowing the truth it contained.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled gently, taking a chance and resting one hand on her knee. She hadn’t told him what it was that had made her push him away, but she seemed to be relenting, and that was worth something. Callan latched on to that and let the conversation take its own direction now, instead of forcing it.
“You could start with telling me if you ever got the water you intended to drink.”
Almost immediately her face tensed up, and he felt like she was about to react negatively. Without warning and without any change on his side it slipped away, her forehead smoothing out and the tendons in her neck relaxing.
“No,” she said heavily. “I didn’t. But I can get it now.”
“I want to ask if you’re sure here, but I get the idea that would be the wrong thing to say.”
Kathryn nodded. “Yeah. I have some energy now though, which I’ve been lacking all day. So I’m going to get my own glass of water. I can damn well do that,” she snarled, though it was clear that was directed at herself, and not at him.
He watched as she lifted herself from the chair, keeping his eyes on her the entire time though he maintained his distance. The superior reflexes of his blood would easily allow him to get close enough to catch her if her legs failed her, but he doubted they would.
Callan frowned as she turned the tap on, the leaky, shaking thing not responding like it should. Eventually Kathryn got it turned on, though her lack of swearing told him this was a long-standing problem. Water filled, she sat back down, not attempting to make a statement by standing while she drank. Kathryn knew her limits, and he was proud of her for not being too stubborn to push them here, like she had at the pool.
Satisfied she wasn’t going to do anything else silly, he finished cleaning up the floor. His mind kept going back to the tap, however, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the thick portly man in the pictures in the house. He was positive Kathryn would have done her best to help out, but she was in rough shape as well.
“Do you have a tool set?” he asked suddenly, his voice startling Kathryn.
“Uh, what do you mean?”
“Tools. For fixing things. Screwdrivers, wrenches, stuff like that.”
Although he had exactly zero experience with them, Callan had found he quite enjoyed watching videos on the internet about fixing things, making things and the like. Here was a chance to do some good with that.
“Uh, my dad kept his in the basement.” Kathryn pointed tentatively at a door he’d not yet seen open. “But I’m not sure anyone has really been down there since he passed away.”
“I’m sorry about that, by the way. He’s the man in the pictures?” Callan pointed back down the hallway and to the common room.
“Yes.”
“He looked like a good man.”
Kathryn smiled, memories of her father clearly filling her spirit. “He was. He really was. An amazing father. I miss him a lot.”
Callan walked over to her and gave her a hug, arms sliding around her back before he even really understood what he was doing. There was no going back by that point however, and so instead of stiffening or abruptly pulling away he simply gave her a tender hug, letting her know that he felt bad about that.
Kathryn sniffled, but no tears came. “Downstairs,” she said again. “On the right there’s a workbench. Anything he might have was there.”
The light didn’t work, which was no surprise if it hadn’t been turned on in years, but there was enough ambient light from the open door to let him easily locate the toolbox. A quick rifle through showed that it had a bunch of tools in it that would hopefully be enough.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he clomped back up the stairs, the boards bending somewhat uncomfortably under his weight.
“Fixing things,” he rumbled, getting to his knees and looking underneath the counter.
Kathryn started protesting as he forced his wide shoulders in at a cockeyed angle, taking in just how it was secured down.
“You don’t need to do this.”
“I’m aware.”
After the second or third time of that back and forth she fell silent.
“Try it now,” he said, giving the wrench one last twist.
It was a challenge to her as much as it was helpful to him. Callan was well aware that for her to turn it on she would need to stand up, and he wanted to see her push herself. He needed to confirm something.
“Oh wow!” she exclaimed a moment later as the pipes started to vibrate slightly. “It works great now. It doesn’t jangle everywhere and it turns on right away.”
“That’s good,” he said, his attention focused on the pipes. It took him several times to get the right screwdriver, but he was able to then tighten down the clamps that held the copper pipe to the frame of the cabinet, and the rattling decreased significantly.
Kathryn was beaming at him as he stood up. “My mom is going to be so pleased about that,” she said happily. “Thank you. I know it’s been bugging her for years now, but she’s too stubborn to pay someone to come fix it.”
Callan nodded. “Right. Well, what else is there to do?”
His mate brightened immediately as his intention clued in. “Oh, well there’s the door over here!” She pointed him to the washroom door.
Walking over there he felt the floor creak under him, wishing there was something he could do about that. It was a bit above his skill level however, and not something he was willing to attempt with a few screwdrivers and wrenches.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked, looking it over. “Looks like a door to me.”
Kathryn giggled and swatted at him playfully. “Well of course it’s a door. But try and shut it.”
He shrugged and grabbed the handle. It jiggled in his hand, but Kathryn told him to shut it. That wasn’t what she was talking about. So he pushed it closed. Sort of. It became crystal clear what the problem was when he saw half an inch worth of door overlapping at the top, with a space at the bottom.
Setting the toolbox down, he got to work while Kathryn watched.
“I didn’t know you were handy,” she remarked at one point.
“It’s a relatively new skill,” he mumbled, trying to focus on tightening the screws in the hinges as much as he could, without overdoing it. Delicate tasks like this could be tough at first, differentiating between just how much strength was necessary. The more he did it the easier it would get, but for now he had to make sure not to overdo it, lest he break something.
“Okay, let’s try that.” He stood back and gently pushed the door closed. It clicked shut without an issue at the push of a finger.
Kathryn’s face was almost aglow, and he hoped that this was a sign that perhaps she was going to overcome whatever it was that had caused her to push him away in the first place.
I still need to find out what that was.
Over the course of the next few hours he moved from place to place in their little house, fixing things as best he could with his limited skill. The internet was a wonderful tool for some of the trickier jobs, but in the end he even managed to fix the overhead fan in the kitchen as well, so it didn’t bounce and rattle in a terrifying manner when it was turned on.
“My mother can cook now!” Kathryn said, clapping her hands together happily. “She’ll be so happy. She’s not done much cooking or baking since it got too hot in here without the fan going. Thank you, Callan.”
He had just finished tiptoeing back up the stairs from the basement after putting the tools away, praying that the wood didn’t collapse under him.
“You’re welcome. It felt good to be needed. I’m supposed to be your assistant in all this, but really I’ve just been there as someone to talk to since you’re so independent.”
“I wish,” Kathryn muttered.
Callan winced to himself. This was the wrong topic. He needed to change it, and fast.
“Anyway, I should be going now, before your mother gets home.”
Good job, genius. Change it from one awkward subject to another. Way to go.
Kathryn fell silent as well, and he cursed his dumbness. Could he not just talk normally?
“I don’t think you need to worry about that happening for a bit,” she spat bitterly.
“What do you mean?”
But she shook her head, refusing to answer that as well. Yes, it was definitely time for him to go, that much was quickly becoming clear to him.
Kathryn wheeled behind him as he headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked without looking back.
“That would be nice.”
He nodded sharply and undid the bolt, grasping the handle.
“Callan, wait.”
Fingers froze around the knob. Part of him screamed out to twist it and haul the door open, to avoid whatever bombshell of bad news she was about to drop on him now. It would be better that way—just leave now, avoid it.
But the call of his dragon was too much. It wanted him to look at his mate, to see her again, to go to her. Callan wasn’t going to give in that much. He couldn’t, not until the rest of him was ready for it, not to mention Kathryn. Heaven knew if she would ever see him that way. What he could do though, was look at her. Mouth suddenly dry, hands trembling just slightly, he stood up and turned back.
Kathryn was standing, determination writ in her features and focused in her eyes, the brown turning so dark once more it was almost black. She put one foot in front of the other and moved a step closer to him. There was no wobble in it, no shake.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, not trusting his own voice. The intensity in her eyes spoke of a mission. She was going to do something, and there was nothing that he could do to stop her.
He just didn’t know what she was after. Nervous sweat threatened to break out across his forehead and under his arms as she neared him, not once speaking. Someone was beating a giant bass drum inside his head that oddly coincided with his heartbeat, and a nonexistent wind roared across his ears, filling the silent house with a sound only he could hear.
Callan was close to panicking as Kathryn took another step near. The little hairs across his body stood on their ends. He was a dragon shifter; this wasn’t supposed to be happening to him! He was far too powerful to feel such nerves. Such fear.
Was it fear?
He didn’t have time to figure it out, because all at once Kathryn was there, in his arms, and pulling his head down to her level. Instinct took over after that point, and he brushed aside several curly strands of rich brown hair to ensure he could kiss her properly.
Fireworks exploded behind his eyes and a ferocious need erupted to life between his legs, declaring its intent with the fury of a newborn volcano. Before he realized what he was doing Callan was lifting Kathryn from the floor with a gentleness that belied the desperate desire of their kiss, pinning her against the wall. Coats fell from the coatrack unnoticed as she scrambled to grab hold of his shirt, an answering noise welling up from within Kathryn to match his own.
Her lips parted and his tongue darted in, exploring her even as their bodies pressed together like animals in heat. She didn’t have much fine control over her hips yet, but he could feel her doing her best as he grew hard, rubbing herself up and down the bulge in his jeans.
The arousal and eroticism of the moment on display from both of them stunned Callan. He’d known that she was gorgeous, that he found her attractive. But this instinct was so base, so primal that it nearly overwhelmed him, rising up like a tidal wave and crashing over the pair.
It was only with a titanic mental effort that he ripped himself and his dragon free of the moment. Knowing full well he may come to regret not having pushed further, Callan carried Kathryn back to her chair and set her in it, knowing that if his legs were as wobbly as they felt, hers would be as well.
Brown eyes and brown hair seemed to sparkle as she looked up at him through short but curled lashes, Kathryn stopping just short of batting them at him. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice returned, deep and steady as it filled the little hallway.
Not wanting to make it any more awkward, or risk his sexuality overwhelming Kathryn and convincing her to do something she didn’t want, he slipped out the door, closing it behind him.
There was no car waiting at the road for him, but that didn’t matter. Callan needed time to think, and there was nothing like the clear air of a balmy summer day to help with that. After a quick look on his phone he headed for the nearest park.
The next day was filled with a task Colonel Mara had hired him for, so any heavy thinking he was to do would need to be done today, to keep his mind clear for that. And heavy thinking seemed to abound.
It was tough for Callan to continue to deny what he had for so long. Kathryn was his mate. The kiss they had just shared made that statement more emphatically than just about anything else could have. The fire and desire, the instant arousal and response from one to another and back again, it was all just too much to argue against.
But if Kathryn was his mate…then what was Beatrice? His mind was confused, filled with the endorphin rush from the moment he’d shared with Kathryn, and the guilt over the memory of Beatrice, of betraying the woman he’d thought for so long to be his mate.
He sank down onto the first park bench he could find, ignoring the looks from passersby as it groaned under his vast bulk. Callan was lost in thought, completely unsure of everything that lay before him, and now he was also starting to question what he’d thought he’d known.
Why did women have to be so confusing?!