King
SONIA WAS STANDING in the kitchen boiling the kettle for a cup of her favorite herbal tea, telling herself she wasn’t grateful to Callum for making certain it was stocked. But she was grateful. She drank that tea all the time. She didn’t know what she’d do without it.
This was after an afternoon spent gazing in the fire and plotting her escape.
She did this while listening to him talk on the phone seventeen times. She’d counted. There was nothing better to do, except plot her escape, of course.
Either he was a really good actor, this was a more elaborate pretense than she imagined, or he did, indeed, have “men.” At least three of them that she could count. One named Ryon, one named Caleb, and one named Calder, and all of them reported in frequently on a variety of what sounded like war-like subjects that included Callum giving a variety of leader-of-the-gang-like orders.
He also spent a good deal of time on his computer.
Luckily, the rest of the time he left her alone so she could plot her escape.
And plot she did.
She didn’t have any shoes but she did have a bunch of socks and he had several pairs of boots.
Okay, so his feet were large like his hands.
But if she put enough socks on, maybe she could keep his boots on her feet long enough for her to get away.
And get away she was going to do. It had been thirty-one years since she wandered this forest with her father, but when she was a kid she wandered with him all the time and she had a good memory. Her father loved being out of doors, especially at night, and he took Sonia with him.
The animals weren’t only unafraid of her, her father, too, had that particular gift. They saw wildlife in the moonlight with their night vision (her father had that too) and she remembered quite keenly that those times were magical.
She also remembered a cave not too far away that her father had shown her.
Not only shelter but she would imagine that Callum would guess she’d seek assistance, not shelter herself in a cave until the coast was clear.
She could take a blanket, wrap up some food, and she would go, hang out there until the weather cleared and then move out, find someone and report her kidnapping.
If it kept snowing, her footprints would be covered in minutes.
Further, she had better hearing, eyesight, and smell than Callum. She’d be able to sense him if he came after her.
He was, it came to her too late after all that had happened that morning, that presence she’d sensed last night, the alluring one as, obviously, the cosmos could play a pretty mean joke. She’d noticed it (and it broke her heart) the instant he walked in from finishing with the logs and it had invaded the house when she opened his bag and put away his clothes.
If he came after her, got anywhere near her, she’d know it.
Once she got her medication, she hoped it didn’t quit snowing. Then she could get away from that scary, bossy (but handsome) jerk.
They’d had dinner and she’d made a big one. Steak, baked potatoes (with butter and sour cream, her hips were never going to forgive her), veggies, and rolls. She didn’t want to give him reason to pin her against the counter or do anything else that set her teeth on edge and made her want to scratch his eyes out. And she told herself the meal wasn’t absolutely delicious (when it was).
Now she was going to have tea, examine the cupboards to plan what to take with her, pray that his “man” could get through the thick blanket of snow that was still falling, and then she was going to call it a night.
Through the whistle of the kettle, she sensed it.
Someone was coming.
She didn’t make a move or give any indication that she felt anything.
But she knew they were coming.
Oh my God! I hope it’s park rangers, she thought.
“Wait here,” Callum ordered and her head snapped up.
He slid off the stool and went swiftly to the walk-in closet. He exited carrying some of his clothes and a pair of his boots.
He walked directly to the door, turned to her, and stated, “I’ll be back in five minutes. Make coffee.”
Then he was gone.
She stared at the door.
What was he doing now?
Then she thought, Five minutes.
Did she have enough time to gather what she needed, bulk up on clothes, and get out of there? Maybe even waylay who was out there and ask for their assistance?
No.
It was too much of a risk.
She’d have to do it when he was sleeping. Five minutes wouldn’t give her a good enough head start and if she didn’t manage to find whoever was out there, even with her keen senses in this storm she might get lost.
She didn’t need to go from the frying pan (kidnapped by a madman) to the fire (lost in a snowstorm).
She needed to stick to her plan.
She moved to the coffeepot and it was dripping away when the door opened.
Sonia turned to the door and stared.
Through its frame came Callum followed by another man, dark-haired too, also tall (not as tall as Callum, two, three inches shorter), muscular but without the same bulk. He looked younger as well.
But she stared because he was wearing Callum’s clothes.
What on earth?
They entered, Callum closed the door, the man’s eyes came to her face, and then he dropped immediately to a knee.
Sonia braced for action (though she had no idea what she would do) as she thought for a second he might be overcome by hypothermia or something. But she watched as his hand came out to the floor beside his knee and his head dropped down.
Then, in a strong deep voice that carried across the room, but no matter, she’d have heard it if he said it one hundred feet away and outside in this raging blizzard, he muttered reverentially, “My queen.”
Sonia gawped.
He stayed bowed with head low.
“Rise,” Callum murmured quietly but unmistakably regally.
What on earth?
The man stood and grinned at her before he turned to Callum and remarked, “She’s pretty.”
Sonia’s startled eyes went from the man to Callum who was watching her.
“That she is,” he mumbled and lifted his chin to Sonia. “Waring needs a cup of coffee, little one, something to eat. See to it.”
Sonia blinked as Callum slapped the man on the back and escorted him into the room.
What was going on?
She hadn’t heard a vehicle. She’d heard and smelled a person approaching the cabin.
Apparently, Callum had sensed him too!
And why was he in Callum’s clothes? How did he get there on foot through a blowing blizzard in no clothes? And what did he mean, “My queen?” And what did Callum mean, “See to it?”
And, what, she felt it pertinent to repeat, was going on?
“Sonia.” Callum’s firm voice came at her and her body jolted her out of her reverie. “Coffee. Waring’s been running the last ten miles.”
Running?
“Yes, of course,” she murmured, attempting to mask her alarm, and she had to admit, curiosity, and called to the other man, “How do you take it?”
“With two fingers of whisky,” he replied, still grinning at her. He waited for Callum to set down a small satchel on the coffee table and sit before he took his seat, looked at Callum, and repeated, “Really, your grace, she’s seriously pretty.”
Your grace?
“I’ve noticed,” Callum replied, humor in his tone.
In spite of herself, hearing Callum agree she was “seriously pretty” with that warm humor in his voice made a shiver dance across Sonia’s skin.
She pretended that didn’t happen, found the whisky, poured in two fingers, added the coffee, took it to the living room, and handed it to the man.
“Thank you for bringing my—” she started, but before she could finish Callum’s hands shot out, curved around her hips, and she was flying through thin air for a moment before she landed in his lap.
This made Waring grin again.
It made Sonia twist around and glare before snapping, “Callum!”
Callum completely ignored her, his arms closing tight as he asked Waring, “You want a sandwich or do you want Sonia to grill you a steak?”
Waring patted his flat belly and said, “Had some fast food before I transformed. I’m good. The coffee and whisky will set me up. The weather’s not half bad a bit down the mountain. It’s just up here you’re really getting it.” His grin widened and he said, “And it’s all downhill on the way back.”
Both Callum and Waring laughed at this like it was the height of hilarity.
Sonia didn’t get it.
Then again, Sonia wasn’t getting anything. Except the fact that Callum, Sonia noted with extreme annoyance, had a great laugh.
Which was also part of the cosmos’s joke, no doubt.
“So, we go on campaign, is Queen Sonia coming with us?” Waring asked, grinning at her again. “She’d be useful. Makes good coffee,” he finished before he took another sip.
Queen Sonia?
Campaign?
“Likely not,” Callum answered. “She’s human. Only way to assure her safety.”
Human?
Safety?
“Figured,” Waring muttered.
Slowly, Sonia turned her head to look at Callum.
When her eyes met his, he dipped his head, rubbed his temple against hers, her body went rock solid, and he whispered in her ear, “I’ll explain later.”
He pulled his head back.
She glared at him and turned to Waring. “I don’t think we’ll be going on campaign since there are so many things Callum’s going to be,” she lifted her hands and made quotation marks, “explaining later that it might take until the new millennium for him to do it.”
Both Callum and Waring laughed at that too.
Sonia decided not to inform them she wasn’t being funny.
Then she decided, since this was way too weird for words, not to object that Callum seemed perfectly happy chatting away with Waring while she sat in his lap. Something which she was not perfectly happy about.
When Waring finished his coffee, Callum stood, taking Sonia with him and placing her on her feet. Waring stood after him and Callum left them to go to the laptop.
“Take this data stick to Caleb, will you?” he asked, handing the stick to Waring who took it.
“You got a backup?” he inquired and then looked at Sonia and said preposterously, “Saliva. Probably not good for data sticks.”
“What?” Sonia breathed but Callum was pulling her medication from the satchel and she saw it was wrapped in brown paper and taped to oblivion.
When the satchel was empty, he tossed it to Waring.
“Good thinking,” Waring said to Callum and again turned to Sonia. “That’s why he’s king.”
“King?” Sonia whispered but Callum was beside her. His hand sliding along her shoulders, he tugged her against his side and together they walked Waring to the door just like they were an old married couple moving to wave away a party guest.
At the door, Waring turned and bowed his head to Sonia. “It was an honor to meet you, your grace.” Then he lifted his head and grinned yet again.
Before Sonia could say a word, Callum squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
He and Waring walked out the door.
Sonia stared at the door and she did this for a while before she asked it, “What just happened?”
The door didn’t feel like sharing its secrets.
She and a sharp knife were in the kitchen wrestling with the tape on her medication when Callum came back, again carrying the clothes.
Sonia stopped dead, package in hand, knife point inserted in a miniscule area not taped where she hoped it might find purchase, and watched as Callum walked to the closet, threw in the boots, then walked to the bathroom and came out without the clothes.
He moved into the kitchen, stopped close to her, leaned a hip against the counter, reached out, and pulled the knife from her frozen hand and set it aside. Then he took the package out of her hands.
Coming out of her stupor, Sonia asked, “Is it later?”
His eyes never leaving her, he brought the package up to his mouth, and with his even white teeth, he tore open a section of the tape. He ripped off the rest of the packaging, held both boxes in his hands, and gazed at them.
Finally, his head came up. “You need to take this now?”
“I asked if it’s later,” she repeated.
“And I asked if my mate needs the medication that will stop her from dying an agonizing death,” Callum returned calmly. “As you can see, my question has priority.”
It was time for her to take her medication, though she could wait. Any time in the late evening was okay.
She’d rather have a few answers.
She looked at him, saw the set of his face, and gave in.
“I could take it.”
“Let’s go,” he said and started to the bathroom.
Did he say “let’s go?”
Let’s go?
Sonia stood stock still.
Callum turned back. “Sonia.”
“Give me the meds. I’ll—”
He cut her off by saying, “You’re going to teach me how to give it to you.”
She stayed stock still but her mouth dropped open.
Then she said, “No, I’m not.”
To which he replied, “Yes, you are.”
“No, I—”
“Sonia, come here.”
“But, you—”
“Come here or I’ll come get you.”
Her voice grew shrill. “I can’t believe you think—”
He started toward her. She started retreating.
In seconds, she was flung over his shoulder and in a few more seconds she was set on her feet in the bathroom.
She barely got her body under her control before his torso twisted and he closed and locked the door while she stared at him in irritated horror.
He twisted back and demanded, “Now, show me what to do.”
She made a snatch for the boxes but he yanked them away and he was far taller and had the arm span of a giant, drat the man!
“I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself,” she snapped.
“What if you’re not?” he asked.
“What do you mean, what if I’m not? I’ve been doing it every day since I was eleven. I am capable of doing it,” she retorted.
He bent at the waist to get closer and it took everything she had not to lean back.
“What if you’re not?” he repeated. “What if there comes a time where you can’t give it to yourself? You have flu and you’re delirious. As your mate, I need to know how to take care of you.”
Really?
Did he seriously think she was his mate?
She’d known him a day!
And it was the weirdest scariest day of her life!
He was . . . crazy . . . as a . . . loon!
“You aren’t my mate,” she snapped.
“Sonia, I am.”
“You are not.”
He straightened and looked to the ceiling before muttering, “Bloody hell.”
“You can say that again,” she huffed, crossing her arms on her chest.
He dipped his chin down to look at her. “Just show me how to give you the fucking injection.”
“No!”
“Show me!” he barked right in her face.
This was one of those times that set her teeth on edge and made her want to scratch his eyes out.
Sonia did not do that.
Instead, she said, “Give me the boxes.”
“Goddamn it, Sonia—” he started, but she interrupted him.
“You want me to show you? Then give me the boxes so I can gosh darn show you!” she snapped.
He scowled at her a moment before he handed her the boxes.
With extreme ill-grace, Sonia showed him how to load the needle and with even more extreme embarrassment, she turned, undid her belt and cords, and pulled her pants down to expose her upper right buttock.
“Just jab it in and press,” she bit out angrily. “The faster the bet—”
She stopped talking when she felt the heat of his fingers grazing her bare skin. She jerked up and whirled.
“Callum, just jab—” she started but he set the injection aside, grasped her hips, and turned her. “Callum,” she said, twisting her head to look at him then snapped, “Callum!” when his thumb hooked in her pants and pulled them a few inches farther down her hip while his other hand held her firm.
“Baby doll,” he murmured as his thumb slid along her skin.
“What are you doing?” she tried to snap but it came out breathy.
His thumb stroked back, softly, even tenderly.
His eyes came to hers. “You look like a fucking pin cushion.”
Her body grew tight and she looked away.
“That happens when you have to take an injection every night,” she informed him. “Now if you’d just—”
His hands at her hips became arms around her belly and he pulled her into his big hard body.
“I don’t like this,” he said into the hair on top of her head.
He didn’t like it? He should try being her.
“I don’t like it either,” she replied. “It’s not fun. That’s why it’s better just to do it fast and get it over with.”
For a moment, he was silent. Then he sighed.
Then, without letting her go, he reached out with one hand to nab the injection.
“Pull down your cords for me,” he ordered gently.
She did as she was told, and without delay, she felt the jab.
And she felt the burn.
Her arm flew out and her fingers curled around the basin while she sucked in breath, closed her eyes, and fought the pain.
When it burned out, she found herself wrapped tight in his arms, tucked in his body with his face buried in her neck.
His warm embrace unsettled her.
Because it felt good.
She’d always battled the pain alone. It only lasted a minute or two, but it still hurt.
She’d never had anyone, not anyone, help her battle the pain. Not since her momma and papa, who held her close after giving her the injection. Gregor was not a holding close type of guy.
It also surprised her.
Callum was a pretty domineering man, though he’d also shown moments of tenderness.
But nothing like this.
Her fingers curled around his forearms, “Callum.”
“It hurts.” It was a statement.
“Yes.”
“It looked bad.”
“It’s excruciating.”
His arms tightened further.
“Callum, it’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“There’s no other way?”
She shook her head.
His face shoved deeper into her neck before he whispered, “Baby doll.”
Before she could say anything else, he’d done up her cords and belt then she was cradled in his arms and they were out of the bathroom, Callum striding to the living room.
He laid her on the couch and didn’t hesitate in joining her, stretching out and pinning her between his big body and the back of the couch.
She looked at him and announced, “I’d like some tea.”
“I’ll get you some in a minute. Tell me about your thing.”
“What thing?”
“Your blood thing.”
She pulled in breath.
He was being way too nice. And way too concerned. And way too sweet.
And it was messing with her head.
But she thought it best to give him what he wanted. It’d be over sooner that way.
“I don’t know much about it, no one does. It’s that rare. I’ve lived with it my whole life. There’s one treatment, the injection. I know that because I’ve talked to my doctor about alternatives, but there are none.”
“Are they researching it?” Callum asked.
“No, like I said, it’s rare. I’m lucky there’s even a treatment.”
His voice was soft when he said, “Honey, what I saw in there, that isn’t luck.”
There it was.
Too nice. Too concerned.
Way too sweet.
She tried to be nonchalant about it. “Trust me, Callum, if I don’t take the treatment, it’s that times about ten thousand,” she informed him. “I tried it once, went off the meds for two days, I thought I was boiling alive.”
“Jesus,” he muttered on a wince.
She stared.
He was feeling this.
Deeply.
Which made Sonia feel something deeply too.
Something insane.
A strong pull toward him to soothe and comfort.
Before she could stop herself, she pressed closer and assured, “Callum, it’s okay. I’m used to it.” She gave him a teasing grin. “I think it was probably good I had my teenage rebellion against the injection. I learned quickly it’s better than the alternative.”
His eyes bored into hers and he replied, “I’m not finding this amusing.”
Yes, he was feeling this.
And yes, it was deeply.
She didn’t know what to do with that. It made her forget he was a madman and think he might be her dream man.
Her handsome wolf.
Which had to be why she couldn’t fight that odd pull.
And this had to be why her grin faded, she pressed even closer, and her voice went soft when she said, “That’s because it’s not amusing. But it’s two minutes of pain every day. At least there’s something that helps, even if it’s an awful something. It could be far worse.”
His arms around her got tight and one hand drifted up her back into her hair to tuck her face in his neck.
Once he’d done this, he announced, “I’m giving you the injection every night.”
Sonia’s body jolted and her head jerked back. “What?”
He tipped his chin down to look at her. “You heard me.”
“Okay then, why?”
“You shouldn’t do that alone.”
“I’ve been doing it alone for twenty-six years,” she pointed out.
“Yes, and that stops now.”
“Why?” she cried.
“You didn’t see you.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means you’re not doing it alone,” he stated implacably.
“This is ridiculous!” she snapped, trying to push away only for him to pull her back, this time even closer.
“You could barely stay standing,” he told her, head still tipped down, but his eyes had gone tawny.
Well, she learned something. His eyes went gold for a lot of reasons, including anger.
Good to know.
In the face of his anger, she still retorted, “I’ll repeat, I’ve been doing this for twenty-six years.”
“And I’ll repeat, you’re not doing it alone any longer. I’m giving you the fucking injection.”
Sonia glared.
Callum scowled.
His scowl, she reckoned, was a lot better than her glare.
She reckoned this because he didn’t back down, she did.
“You know,” she started tartly, “for a brief second there I thought you were nice, even sweet. You’re not. You’re a big bossy jerk.”
His face began to soften and she saw the blue start to seep back into the gold of his irises before he started, “Sonia—”
She cut him off and shoved at his chest (to no avail) before demanding, “Can I have tea now?”
Callum sighed the sigh of a man beleaguered, which irritated her even more.
He hadn’t been kidnapped. He hadn’t been bossed around. He hadn’t been forced to receive an injection from some woman he barely knew.
Why he sounded beleaguered she’d never know!
He cut into her thoughts. “I’ll get you some tea then we’re talking about what happened earlier when Waring was here.”
She pushed up and managed to get on an elbow. “Don’t do me any favors, wolf, I’ll get my own tea, and I don’t want to talk about—”
She stopped speaking because all of a sudden she wasn’t on an elbow.
She was flat on her back and most of his weight was pinning her to the couch.
And, it should be noted, the tawny had beaten back the blue in his eyes and his face was so far away from soft it wasn’t funny.
“Callum—”
“You call me ‘wolf’ when you want me near you, when you want me to hold you and when you want me to fuck you. You don’t call me ‘wolf’ when you’re pissed at me, is that understood?”
Sonia didn’t know what came over her, she’d never felt anything like it before.
Further, it wasn’t smart. It wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t treading carefully with a kidnapping madman.
But she also didn’t care.
In the face of what appeared to be his rage, she didn’t back down. No matter that he was way bigger and way, way stronger than she. No matter that he told her he’d executed two men last night because they’d touched her.
She was just that tired of this whole situation.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she snapped back. “You’ve told me what to eat. You’ve made me be somewhere I don’t want to be. Now, you’re telling me what to say?”
“You got it right,” he ground out.
“Oh, you’re right I got it right,” she bit out then yelled. “You are a big bossy jerk!”
His eyes narrowed and he clipped, “I asked, is that understood?”
“I speak English, Callum, it’s understood,” she retorted. “I also heard you say I could use that word when I wanted you near me, when I wanted you to hold me, and when I wanted you to fuck me, so don’t hold your breath because you’ll never hear me call you ‘wolf’ again!”
She was panting when she was finished, her chest rising and falling with her breaths.
His voice dipped lower just as his face dipped to hers when he warned, “I’ve a mind to test that threat.”
Her breathing escalated, as did her pulse, but she still invited, “Have at it. Let’s see if you can make today a grand slam in demonstrating all the ways to make your supposed mate hate you!”
He scowled at her.
She glared at him.
And she felt no triumph whatsoever when he broke the staring contest, did a push up, knifed away from her getting to his feet, but leaned low over her. “I’m getting you tea. You move from that couch, Sonia, this farce ends now.”
Her breath stopped.
There it was.
“What farce?” she whispered.
He stayed leaned over her but threw out an arm and answered, “This one. Me giving you this ludicrous courtship. Waring called you queen and bowed to you out of deference to me and who you’ll become. You defy me again, I’ll take you to that bed and make you my queen right . . . fucking . . . now.”
“Wh-what?” Sonia stammered in confusion (and a great deal of fear) as she lifted up on an elbow.
“My people don’t need ceremonies and rituals, even though we have them. If I fuck you and claim you, the deed is done. You’re bound to me. That’s all there is for my culture that makes one bit of difference. I fuck you, you’re officially my queen.”
“You’re . . . you’re . . . courting me?” she whispered.
“Did you hear a word I said this morning?”
She thought she heard all of them.
With a swift movement, he straightened and tore his fingers through his hair, leaving his hand at his neck before looking up to the ceiling and asking, “Who would fucking believe I’d rather be on a battlefield?”
Sonia wouldn’t believe it.
At that moment, Sonia didn’t believe anything.
Except the heartbreaking fact that he was crazy as a loon.
His head tipped down and he scowled at her. “Now stay there, don’t move, and I’ll bring you your goddamned tea.”
He stalked away and she did what she was told.
She had no earthly idea what was going on and she was getting more confused by the minute.
What she did know, considering the consequences, was that she wasn’t going to move from the couch.
Also, she was never going to call him “wolf” ever again.
Lastly, because of that, she would always hate him, always.
And she would hate him because he forever took her beloved handsome wolf away.
Callum had fucked up.
He knew it and he could kick himself for it.
He’d lost his patience and his formidable temper, and further, and most regrettably, forgotten that Sonia had no idea what was going on.
He’d told her some of it but she couldn’t possibly understand his mind was on a plot hatched to abduct her, debase her, and maybe even murder her. A plot which meant his people were at war, people he was responsible for and a war he had to win.
He’d had her a day.
Only a day.
For well over three hundred years, he knew he’d find his mate and be bound to her. He’d always hoped she wouldn’t be his queen, which would mean his father’s death, but, like every wolf, he anticipated with great relish finding his mate.
Now he had her not even twenty-four hours and he’d fucked it up with her.
Ryon had warned him, even so far as pleaded with him, that he needed to be gentle and tolerant with Sonia.
It wasn’t simply that Callum didn’t have time for this ridiculousness (which he didn’t). Callum didn’t date. He didn’t court. He seized. Even if his mate wasn’t under threat and his people weren’t at war, he had little patience for courting and furthermore didn’t like it.
And, obviously, he wasn’t very good at it.
He was now king but he’d always been a prince. No one questioned him. Only a scarce few—all blood and all in his inner circle—talked back. People followed his orders and understood his position and he expected this, was entitled to it.
But Sonia didn’t know that.
Any of it.
In her world, men asked women on dates. They went to dinners, movies, got to know each other through conversations.
With female humans, if he wanted them, Callum might buy them a drink then he’d find an opportunity to kiss them and that was all he had to do, always all he had to do. Then he’d take them to bed.
With female wolves, he never bothered with the drink.
And he’d been wrong about her.
She was fiery and spirited and whatever led her to her colorless life was lost here in this cabin.
Sonia, his mate, the woman fate had bound him to woke in his bed this morning.
Then she’d become naturally confused to be where she was, and with a stranger no less, after what had happened to her last night.
Then he’d freaked her out. She’d retreated into her shell. He’d foolishly lamented his fate but only to find she came out of that shell blazing and he had more fire and spirit than he knew what to do with.
His only excuse for tonight’s behavior was watching her endure the torture of her injection and he wasn’t even thinking about her need to take the injection in the first fucking place.
How she could do that every night of her life was a mystery.
How he’d endure giving her that pain, he had no clue.
All he knew was that he would find a way and she would never endure it alone again.
The thought that she had for decades tore at him.
He made her tea, poured himself a whisky, and determined that he was going to rectify the situation as he walked back to the couch. She was lying on her side, pillow under her cheek, eyes on the fire, noticeably back in her shell.
Fuck, Callum thought.
He placed the drinks on the coffee table and bent to pull her up. He maneuvered himself behind her, his back up against the corner of the couch, one leg cocked against the couch’s back. Sonia’s back was resting against his chest and stomach, her hips tucked in his crotch, her bottom in the seat, and he tangled his remaining leg with both of hers.
She held herself stiff. As she would.
“Grab the drinks, will you, honey?” he asked softly, and without hesitation she leaned forward, got their drinks and handed him his whisky over her shoulder without looking at him.
Yes, totally fucked it up.
He initiated damage control.
“I didn’t like watching you suffer that injection,” he admitted.
She hesitated only a moment before replying quietly, “Yes, I noticed that.”
Callum continued, “But, this morning, I did like it when you called me ‘wolf.’”
She remained silent but her body tensed further.
Callum carried on, “So much so, when you said it in anger, it pissed me off.”
She took a sip of her tea before saying, “I noticed that too.”
He slid his arm around her belly and gave her a squeeze.
He sipped his whisky.
Then he said, “You need to know what’s going on and you need to know who I am which will explain why I behave the way I do.”
More silence.
Callum sighed before he spoke. “I’ve mentioned ‘my people’ and ‘my culture.’ What I mean when I say that is, my people are different from your people. We’re a secret sect of society who has been living alongside humans since recorded history.”
As he spoke, her body grew even tenser and he sensed her accelerated breathing.
She thought he was a nut.
He leaned forward, taking her with him, and set his glass on the coffee table. He took away her tea and did the same. He brought them both back and wrapped both arms around her, one at her belly, one at her chest, fingers curled around her shoulder where he stroked her.
“Rest your head on my chest,” he commanded, and again without delay, she did as she was told.
She was giving in.
Immediately.
Callum felt his jaw get tight as his eyes rolled heavenward.
He decided to pull out the heavy artillery.
His arms grew tighter when he told her, “Your father was a friend to my people.”
Her body went rock solid before she turned in his arms and tipped her face up to look at him.
“What?” she whispered, but he saw her face was filled with wonder.
Callum could do nothing but stare.
Fuck, she was pretty but looking like that . . .
Unbelievable.
He lifted a hand to trail the backs of his fingers against the soft skin of her cheek, which she fortunately allowed while he answered, “Senator Arlington was a friend to our people. He was a liaison between the cultures. He was a good man. A respected man. And he was a friend of my father’s.”
“Really?” she breathed.
“Really, baby doll,” he replied gently.
Heavy artillery was a good call apparently as she didn’t pull away. Her body had relaxed into his and her face was still filled with wonder.
He shifted her thick hair away from her temple and tucked it behind her ear before he continued, “My father was king for many years. Five years ago, he was killed in battle.” His eyes caught hers as she gasped and he finished, “Now, I’m king.”
Her lips parted but she remained silent.
Callum went on, “The evening the future king is born, at midnight, the oracles speak. Just by speaking, they herald the future king, but mostly they talk of his bride.”
“Let’s go back to your father,” she said quietly.
“This is an important part, little one,” he told her.
She ignored him and asked, “Were you close?”
He nodded.
“Very?” she inquired.
Callum continued to nod.
The wonder slid from her features as they grew soft with unconcealed compassion.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know how that feels.”
All right.
To pretty, fiery and spirited, he could add sweet.
Sonia Arlington could be incredibly sweet.
In order not to give in to his sudden forceful urge to take her to his bed and discover just how sweet she could be, he shifted some of her hair over her shoulder. He ran his fingers through it, never taking his eyes from hers while he said, “I know you do. Senator Arlington was a fine man and my father told me he loved you very much.”
Pain sliced through her eyes briefly and his arms gave her a squeeze.
She took in a soft breath and stated, “So you think I’m your bride.”
He grinned and replied, “You are my bride. The oracles foretold you.”
She nodded and went on, “And your people think I’m your queen.”
He felt his grin widen to a smile as he declared, “You are my queen.”
“And this is why I’m important to you.”
“Yes. The mate of any male of my people is important, important enough to lay down his life for her. But you’re queen. Any one of my people would lay down their life for you.”
She stared at him a moment, her eyes unreadable, then she commented, “That’s an awesome responsibility.”
His hands moved under her arms to pull her up his chest so her face was closer to his and he teased, “And I know how that feels.” He watched one side of her lips quirk up before he went on, “It’s my duty to prepare you to take on that responsibility. Today has not been a good day, baby doll, but I promise you, from now on, I’ll be more patient.”
“This would be good,” she whispered.
He grinned at her, pleased with his endeavors and even more pleased with the results, all the while wondering if it would be a tactical error to kiss her.
Then he thought, fuck it.
His fingers sifted into her hair and brought her face closer to his, but before his mouth could capture her own, she spoke.
“Do all your people’s eyes do that?”
“The gold?” he asked in return and she nodded. “In a way,” he answered. “The eyes of those of us with royal blood go gold. Others, yellow or brown.”
“So only your family has that pretty color?”
Yes, Sonia Arlington was definitely sweet.
He nodded as he pulled her face closer at the same time tilting his to hers. “Yes.”
Her head resisted and there was resistance in her tone when she whispered, “Callum—”
He ignored both and finally captured her lips.
She continued to resist, pushing her head against his hand and her hand against his chest.
He slanted his head, his mouth opened over hers and his tongue touched her lips.
They tasted sweet too.
He felt her mumbled, “Oh,” against his tongue but used that opportunity to slide it between her lips.
His tongue touched hers, her head stopped pushing as did her hand, and she melted into him, tilting her head, her hand sliding up to curl around his neck.
The kiss was not fiery or spirited.
It was simply, brilliantly, unforgettably sweet.
And it stirred Callum in a way he’d never felt before.
Therefore, before he truly made a tactical error by exploring that feeling and pushing her too far after fucking up so royally that day, he broke his mouth from hers and tucked her cheek against his chest.
He slid his fingers through her hair and he could hear her breath was accelerated but she didn’t pull away. She just lay in his arms, her cheek against his chest.
And he prayed his damage control worked.
She took in a satisfyingly fluttering breath before she asked, “Do you want your whisky?”
“Yes, little one.”
She leaned forward, nabbed his whisky, and handed it to him. She leaned again and hooked her mug with her finger.
Then Sonia lay silently, cocooned by his body with her cheek against his chest, occasionally lifting her head to sip her tea while he sipped his whisky, the fire burned, and the snow fell outside.
Yes, he thought with relief, it appeared his damage control worked.
And, Callum thought, living a life like this with Sonia didn’t yawn before him.
Instead, it might just be sweet.