Chapter Seven
It took half an hour for Cynthia to get Joey back to sleep. By the time she wandered downstairs, Hailey had gone home, but a dark, brooding form sat on the porch steps, looking at the sky exactly the way the lonely wolf had not too long ago on that rock ledge.
Cynthia leaned on the doorframe, tightening her grip on the robe she’d thrown on. How did she feel about having Cal there? Happy? Sad? Intruded upon — or comforted? She gave up trying to decide. She was too exhausted to feel anything, which was probably a good thing.
Cal had only shifted out of wolf form a few minutes earlier — she could tell from the intense, woodsy scent. As always, silence was his companion. He just nodded and rested his head against the porch banister, watching her.
“You okay?” he murmured so quietly, the words were a whisper on the wind.
She hugged her robe closer. Dear, sweet Cal. Saying something for her sake, not his. She nodded dumbly.
“What about Joey?”
She nodded again. “He’s asleep.”
Cal’s chin bobbed, making her ache. It was an echo of conversations she’d once had with Barnaby. She would come downstairs after tucking in their son and take a seat across from Barnaby, doing her best to resign herself to her fate.
But now Barnaby was gone, and as for fate…
Cynthia gazed at Cal, trying not to think of what might have been.
“Does he get nightmares often?” Cal asked quietly.
Cynthia balled her fists, wishing she could let them fly at the bastards who’d traumatized her son. She nearly said yes, too, but when she thought it over, she changed her mind.
“Not so much since we came here,” she said, making a mental note to thank Dell and the other men. They’d made Joey feel comfortable and secure from day one. “He’s so resilient, it amazes me. This is the first time in a while.”
She frowned, thinking it over. Had that been just another dream or some kind of premonition?
Don’t be silly, she ordered herself. Still, she might ask Anjali her thoughts on that soon.
Cal stretched as if to stand, and her heart thudded. “Are you leaving?”
He shrugged. “You don’t need me, right?”
There was nothing rebellious in his tone, just resignation, and all the ghosts in their past seemed to rattle their chains at the same time.
“You can stay. For a second. I mean, if you want,” she said, stopping and starting, not managing to get anything out right.
“What do you want?” Cal’s voice was low and perfectly even, giving no hint as to which option he preferred.
She took a deep breath. “Stay. Please stay.”
The weight of her words surprised her, but Cal simply nodded, giving nothing away.
Cynthia bit her lip as another quiet moment ticked by. Why ask him to stay if she didn’t have anything to say?
Because he doesn’t need to hear anything, her dragon murmured. Because it feels good just to have him here.
It did, and she was too tired to be alarmed by the idea. Too tired, in fact, to think about why she went to the kitchen and returned a moment later with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Then she paused, looking between a nearby chair and the top stair where Cal sat.
Don’t be such a prude, her dragon muttered.
She sank down on the top stair, not too close, but not too far from Cal, and held out one of the wineglasses.
“I’m guessing you can use some of this too.”
The corner of his mouth curled up. “Does it show?”
She tilted her head. “Does what show?”
His smile stretched as he took the glass, muttering a single word. “Good.”
She filled the glass slowly. Was Cal as emotionally drained by the evening — and the past few days — as she was? Or was he just plain old tired after years of wandering the world?
“A nice Spanish burgundy,” she noted as if Cal cared.
He accepted the glass with a noncommittal nod. Cynthia sipped her wine, trying to settle down, but her mind was spinning in circles.
“Stop overthinking,” Cal murmured, right on cue.
She sighed. “If only I could.”
He let a few seconds tick by before gesturing toward the glittering ocean. “Just look.”
She tried. She really did. But she couldn’t.
“Look at what?”
“At how the light ripples over the water. How it sparkles — like there are stars mixed in with the waves.”
The man was a poet, and he didn’t even know it. She sighed and watched the light skip over miles of inky water.
“Now close your eyes and listen to the leaves in the trees.”
That didn’t sound promising, but strangely enough, it worked, and she found herself tuning in to the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, each one setting another off. And slowly — ever so slowly — a sliver of peace wiggled into her soul, pushing away some of the turmoil.
She swirled the wine in her glass and took another sip, then another. The glass was empty before she knew it, and she reached for the bottle. She offered it to Cal first, but he shook his head. His wine consumption correlated to the words he uttered — only a few and far between. She, on the other hand, refilled her glass and drank. It gave her just enough of a buzz to soften the hard edges of exhaustion. When she put the bottle down, her arm brushed Cal’s leg, and little tingles ran through her nerves.
“How have you been?” she ventured. Then she tensed. What if he told her how many relationships he’d tried his luck at since they’d broken up?
But Cal didn’t share much. Just a single “Okay” that could have meant anything.
“Where have you been?” she tried after another minute ticked past.
He motioned vaguely. “Here and there.”
Cynthia studied her hands. Had he remained in the Northeast, or had he toured the entire continent on his bike? Had he been through a string of rocky relationships, or had he stuck with Sheila?
Wherever he’d been and whatever he’d done, it had left his mark on him. His face was a little more weathered, his arms a lot more scarred, his eyes warier than ever.
“What are you really here for, Cal?” she finally asked, waving her glass at the view as if the ocean had swept him in.
Cal seemed mesmerized by the burgundy shadow the moonlight cast through her glass, but she wasn’t fooled. The man was thinking. Considering. Deciding how close to keep his cards to his vest.
Close, it seemed, because his face didn’t change, and his voice remained perfectly even.
“I’m here to protect you.”
She frowned. “From what?”
He shrugged. “Not sure yet. Nothing good, I know that much.”
His words weren’t the least bit comforting, but the warmth of his leg against hers was. He was still leaning against the banister, which meant she must have encroached on his space. She cast her wineglass a suspicious glance, then shrugged. Back in the day, the two of them had gotten a lot closer than that, right?
Her dragon heaved a dreamy sigh as memories flashed through her mind. Much closer.
She could practically see her hands clutch at his bare back and sense the heat of their bodies rise. She could feel the snug fit of her legs around his waist, and best of all, the hard, hot slide of him inside.
Cal downed a mouthful of wine with an audible gulp, setting off another memory. One of his motorcycle swerving and him muttering, Jesus, lady. Don’t do that to me.
Cynthia coughed, doing her best to push the sensual images away. “I have all the protection I need.”
Cal pursed his lips. “Do you?”
She snorted. “You’ve met Silas, Connor, and the others…”
Cal nodded curtly. “I have, and they’re good. Very good.”
“But?”
He didn’t say a word, so she answered for him. “But no one is as good as you. Is that what you’re saying?”
For a split second, his eyes danced, and she could imagine his young, cocky self drawling something like, You’re the one saying it, sweetheart.
Her blood raced, and she caught herself wishing he would say exactly that. Wishing they could turn back the clock and be the carefree lovers they’d once been.
But Cal’s face grew inscrutable again. “I’m just saying, the more, the better. For Joey’s sake.”
Her brow furrowed. “You’re just saying that because you know I’m a sucker for Joey.”
“He is your son.”
The thought made her tense all over and blurt, “Do you have kids?”
He laughed, though there wasn’t a note of humor in the sound. “No.”
She felt guilty for feeling relieved — and guilty to realize how Cal must feel that she had a son with someone else. If he loved her as much as she loved him, that had to cut deep.
He loves us. Believe me, he does, her dragon swore.
The grim resolution in Cal’s eyes confirmed it, making her feel worse. Without thinking, she cupped Cal’s cheek.
“I’m sorry. So sorry.” Her throat was so dry, her voice cracked when she spoke.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
When he gazed into her eyes, her breath went all shaky, because it was happening again. That warm, fuzzy feeling that possessed her whenever they got close.
Mate, her dragon murmured.
Cal’s eyes glowed, and she swore his wolf side was whispering the same thing. Mate.
She found herself stroking his rough, stubbly chin like she used to. Leaning closer. Studying the line where the pink of his lips met the weathered bronze of his cheeks.
Cal put his glass behind her and looped an arm over her shoulder. His hand rested gently on her neck as if to guide her closer for a kiss.
“Ask me again,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
She barely breathed. “Ask what?”
He shifted slightly, bringing his knee between hers as they sat facing each other on the top step.
“Ask what I’ve been up to.”
Cynthia braced her free hand on the porch, because she was getting all shaky, and that wouldn’t do. When she spoke, her words were hushed, almost afraid.
“What have you been up to?”
Cal’s eyes glowed the way they did when he was at his most intense. “Missing you. Dreaming of you. Wishing I could go back in time and live it all over again.”
She could have hunched over and cried the way she had so many times over the past years. Having two glasses of wine in her system would have helped the tears flow, but she fought the feeling away.
“Ask me what I’ve been doing all these past years,” she whispered.
Cal flashed that sad little half smile. “What have you been doing?”
“Missing you. Dreaming of you. No — dreaming of us. Wishing I could go back in time and live it all over again.”
The words tumbled out in a rush, and she found herself frozen in place. Whoa. Had she just said that?
She had, and she meant it. Which she proved by sliding closer and whispering, “Cal…”
If a smile were a cocktail, his would have been two-parts sorrow and one-part regret, poured over enough ice to dull the pain.
“Cynthia…”
His human side formed the word, but she could sense his wolf howling beneath.
She closed her eyes and leaned closer, letting instinct guide her lips. Just when she feared she’d misjudged Cal, their lips met. His were soft in the middle and dry on the edges, like they’d always been. A little chapped from all that time on the bike. He smelled of leather, sandalwood, and just enough wolf to make her heart skip.
More, her dragon begged. Please, more.
His lips played over hers, soft and dreamy.
More, she nearly moaned, opening her mouth under his.
And zoom! It was like all those times riding Cal’s Triumph, when he’d kicked the engine into a higher gear and rocketed around the curve of a country road. Her ears roared, and if she hadn’t been hanging on to him, she might have toppled off the porch the way she’d nearly fallen off the back of his bike a few times. She made little whimpering noises as she tasted him for the first time in over a decade, wondering if it was all just a dream. But Cal had never held her that tightly in any dream, and he’d never kissed her with so much need.
“Cal,” she groaned, smoothing her hands over his chest and shoulders, reminding herself just how good she’d had it, once upon a time.
We can have it that good again, her dragon insisted.
Could she? She was painfully aware of the alcohol pumping through her veins, not to mention the wave of emotion that had brought this all on. Still, she held Cal, kissing him hard enough to fight those thoughts away. His knee wandered closer, making hers part to let him in. She found herself groping up the inside of his shirt while shaking her head at herself. But it was hard to care with all that pent-up shifter passion blazing inside, and she started guiding Cal’s hand to her heart.
A bat skimmed over the rooftop, casting a shadow over the two of them, and Cal looked up. His chest rose and fell, and his eyes glowed.
“Cynthia…”
He pulled away, and the out-of-control bike they’d been riding coasted to a halt. Cynthia wanted to lean over and give the throttle one last desperate twist.
Wait, she wanted to cry. Please, let me escape reality for a little longer.
Cal covered her hands with his, then gently guided them from his cheeks to her thighs, anchoring them there.
“Maybe you should check on Joey,” he murmured, looking up as if he’d heard something.
That was the jacaranda tree scratching the porch roof, and Cal knew it. Still, Cynthia forced herself to nod and pull herself together. She was alpha of this pack, dammit, and that meant she had to be self-disciplined at all times. She had no business kissing Cal, especially in her current frame of mind. It was totally irresponsible. Irrational. Childish, even.
But it feels so good, her dragon cried.
It did feel good, but she wasn’t the young, single woman she used to be. She was a mother and a leader now, and she’d better remember that.
Cal stood slowly, joints creaking as if his wolf was resisting. He pulled her to her feet then reluctantly released her. A moment later, his hands reached for her again, but then he stuck them deep into his pockets and kept them there.
“I’d better go.”
“Me too,” she admitted, though it took everything she had.
He backed down the porch steps and paused where the shadows hid his expression.
“Good night, Cynthia.”
His voice was a low rumble — a sound she would replay in her dreams, if she ever got to sleep.
She plucked the wineglasses and bottle off the porch and straightened, trying to remember what her mother had taught her about pride and manners. An impossible task, given the animal passion raging inside her.
Finally, she forced out two of the most painful words she’d ever uttered. “Good night.”
Slowly, Cal turned to go, and she watched, certain she’d spend most of the night touching herself. But Joey mumbled anxiously in his sleep, and she ended up snuggled up beside him.
“Dragons… Bad dragons…” Joey whimpered.
Cynthia held him closer and eyed the sky outside the window. Were his dreams echoes of the past or visions of the future? A gull’s shadow glided over the window, and Cal’s words echoed in her mind.
I’m here to protect you.
From what?
Not sure yet. Nothing good, I know that much.
She lay stiffly for most of the night, sure she’d never get to sleep. But she must have, because she found herself awakening with the rising sun. After a few minutes, she padded quietly to the balcony, getting there just in time to see Cal cruising out the driveway on his Triumph.
Where was he going? What was he up to?
When he disappeared over the rise, her eyes wandered over the inland slopes, and her ears strained for the smooth sound of the Thruxton long after it faded into the distance. She hugged herself, pretending her arms were his while she whispered into the wind.
“Thank you, my mate.”