Death
CALLUM STARED IN Sonia’s shining green eyes as he listened to her sweet, throaty words, up close and broadcast through the space via microphones, as she said, “I do.”
He smiled.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Right, uh . . . now, wolf,” the wolf official at their sides muttered and Callum tore his gaze from his queen and looked at the male. “Callum,” he prompted with a nod of his head Callum’s way.
Callum nodded back and looked back down at his bride.
“Are you mine?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes,” she whispered immediately, her voice still husky and her eyes got brighter.
A deafening cheer tore through the crowd.
The official leaned toward Sonia. Callum, holding her hands in his, felt her start and her head turned slightly as the male whispered something in her ear. Callum’s smile grew wider as she blinked in shock, her head jerked to look back at him, her lips parted, her eyes warmed, and she spoke.
“Are you mine?” she asked, this new nuance of The Mating something he came up with just that morning.
He was king.
He could do anything he wanted.
And he wanted to give to her what she gave to him.
“Yes,” he replied in a strong carrying voice and another deafening cheer filled the space.
Sonia smiled, her hands tightening in his. Her smile was shaky, but even so, it was beautiful.
Callum let her hands go but only to push his into his trouser pocket and pull out what rested there.
A gold charm for her claiming chain, this one another wolf but with tiger’s eye for eyes to match the band he’d added to the ones he’d already given to her. He opened the link with his thumbnail and closed it on her claiming chain.
When his eyes captured his bride’s and his hands again caught hers, he could see, even though her head was tipped down to stare at her new charm, she was biting her lip.
She lifted her gaze to his and it was still beaming, but brighter, luminescent.
Happy.
He grinned.
“It’s my pleasure to pronounce you, King Callum, and you, Queen Sonia, husband and wife and, er, wolf and lifemate!” the official declared and both Callum and Sonia looked his way to see him smiling broadly. “I’ve always wanted to say this,” he went on then finished, “You may kiss the bride!”
Finally, Callum thought, the good part of this human ceremony.
He turned back to his bride and grinned what he didn’t know was a wolfish grin, her wet eyes dropped to his mouth and he heard her fluttering sigh.
Then he bent his head, tightening his grip on hers, and he kissed his bride.
Another roar tore through the space.
Even as he heard it, tasted Sonia on his tongue, smelled her scent in his nostrils, he felt her hand rip from his and move to clutch his lapel.
He broke the kiss to look down at her and saw she was suddenly flushed, her eyes vague.
“Baby doll?” he muttered low so the microphones wouldn’t catch it.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just fine,” she stated quietly but she tore her other hand from his and pressed it to her forehead even as her fingers at his lapel gripped tighter and she leaned her body to his.
“Sonia,” Callum called when her eyes drifted to his chest.
He lifted a hand to her jaw and his gut twisted when he felt how hot her skin was. He gently pressed up, forcing her eyes to his and they were beyond vague.
They were pained.
“Little one,” he murmured, dipping his head close.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I think maybe I’m not fine.”
The instant she finished her statement, her legs went out from under her, and this was such a surprise, she nearly dropped to the dais before Callum caught her in his arms.
The roaring crowd stopped roaring as a hush filled the space.
Callum didn’t notice it because, even through the lace and silk of her gown he could feel his wife’s body was afire.
As he lifted her to cradled in his arms, his eyes sliced to his pale-faced mother sitting in the front row, and he shouted, “Regan!” right before, with long strides, he moved to the side of the dais, down the steps and around the back, under the stands and into a short hall where there were training rooms, dressing rooms, and locker rooms.
He took her to a dressing room, laid her on a couch, sat at its edge, and took her hand.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Cal, get the gown off me,” she begged in a pained voice.
“Hang on, baby doll. Regan has an injection,” he cooed, holding her hand tight as she started shifting on the couch.
“I need this gown off me,” she repeated, clutching his hand and beginning to move with agitation.
“One second, honey,” he told her and smelled Regan before he saw her rush in, Gregor on her heels, Yuri not far behind, and after him, Caleb, Ryon, Calder, Sonia’s bridesmaids, and Lucien.
“A guard on the door, Ry,” he ordered, his eyes then moving to his mother, “Injection.”
She was already digging in her purse as she rushed toward them.
“Cal.” Sonia’s hand gripped his in a death hold. “Please, honey, please, get this gown off me. I’m burning up.”
“The injection’s coming,” Callum assured her.
“Sonny, my dear, did you forget your injection last night?” Gregor asked.
Having moved close, he squatted down beside the couch.
“No,” she shook her head, her eyes heated and dazed, “Cal gave it to me as usual.”
Gregor looked to Callum. “Stress?” he murmured.
“Maybe,” Callum murmured back as Regan handed him the loaded syringe.
“Get a cool cloth, hurry.” He heard Yuri order someone as Callum looked down at his mate.
“Roll to your side, little one, I’m injecting through your dress,” Callum told her and she stopped shifting with agitation and rolled to her side as ordered.
Callum made swift work of injecting the medicine.
He then carefully pulled her up and into his arms. “Two minutes,” he whispered in her ear. “Two minutes, baby doll, hold on.”
She writhed in his arms, fighting him as he counted it down in her ear.
At one minute five seconds, her back arched so violently she nearly tore herself out of his arms, her head flew back and she screamed a scream filled with agony.
Callum’s blood ran cold.
“Fucking hell, what the fuck?” Yuri growled from close.
“Here’s a cold cloth,” Leah said, handing it to Gregor, who immediately moved in to press it to Sonia’s forehead.
He had it there for not a second before she bucked again, letting out a primal scream that tore through the space and straight through Callum’s heart.
Sonia shot double, her hands forming claws, tearing at the bodice of her gown as she cried, “It’s not working. It’s not working. I need this gown off. I need this gown off!”
Callum’s head shot around and his eyes pinned Calder. “Find the wolf who’s been trained to see to this. Get me another injection,” Callum ordered.
Calder, also pale, nodded and sprinted from the room.
Sonia’s hands moved from her gown to claw at Callum. “Cal! Get this gown off!”
“We’re getting another injection,” Callum told her, trying to sound soothing, but even he could hear the worry in his voice.
“I’m calling her doctor,” Gregor snapped, straightening to standing, reaching into his jacket to pull out his phone.
“Do something, for fuck’s sake. More cool cloths. Ice. Fucking something!” Yuri shouted.
Callum tried to control Sonia’s thrashing. “Hang on, Sonia. Hang on, baby doll. It’s been too much for you. We should have planned. The trial, The Mating. We should have planned.”
She stopped thrashing, her hazy eyes finding his. “This isn’t right,” she whispered, her voice panicked, anguished, terrified.
Callum felt a presence, he knew who it was before he looked up, and saw Lucien standing close.
“Let me feed,” he requested gently as Leah moved in with the cool cloth to press it to Sonia’s forehead.
Distractedly, Callum noted Leah’s head jerk before it snapped up to look at her mate, her face shocked as well as pained.
“Vampire saliva has healing properties, Callum, powerful ones. You know this. Perhaps, until her medicine arrives, it will give her some relief,” Lucien suggested.
“Do it, anything,” Sonia begged. “Anything.”
Callum looked to Leah to see her face had blanked and she was pressing the cloth to Sonia’s forehead.
He knew in that instant, if Lucien fed from Sonia, it would be a betrayal to his mate and it might not be worth that large of a sacrifice because it might not work.
“You can’t,” he muttered, looking back to Lucien, and he finished, “Your mate.”
“I can,” Gregor stated, stepping forward.
“She’s your daughter,” Yuri hissed, his voice repulsed.
“Yes, and I want her to survive,” Gregor fired back.
“Then I’ll do it,” Yuri announced moving toward them.
“Fuck, fuck,” Callum clipped, looked down at his agonized bride, took in her torment, and made a decision. “Yuri is going to feed from you, honey. Try to stay calm. It won’t hurt.”
She nodded, clearly in agony, clearly willing to try anything.
Callum moved away and Yuri moved in, gently pulling Sonia up, twisting her in his lap as he sat in the couch, and Callum felt his entire body turn to stone.
“Please, darling, try to stay still so I don’t do you more harm,” Yuri murmured in a soft voice, his arms tenderly gathering Callum’s mate to him, one hand cupping the back of her head, moving it to the side, exposing her neck, and Callum tasted bile in his throat.
Her eyes came to him and he forced his lips to curl up. “It’s going to be all right, baby doll,” he assured.
She nodded.
Yuri ran his tongue along her neck and it took everything Callum had to fight back the instinct roiling in him to tear his mate from the vampire’s arms and rip him apart.
Powerless and hating fucking everything about that feeling, Callum watched as Yuri tore his bride’s flesh open and he fed.
This lasted too long, way too long as Yuri gathered her closer, closer, fucking closer and took more.
Again, suddenly, Sonia’s body arched violently, ripping her throat from the vampire’s teeth, blood poured down her chest and she screamed that hideous scream.
Yuri moved in quickly to lash her neck with his tongue, the healing began slowly, but Callum was there, tearing his wife from the vampire and pulling her into his arms.
She again thrashed, struggled, clawed at him, now keening animal noises that seemed physical, shredding him.
He could take no more.
“Where’s that goddamn injection!” he roared, moving to sit on the couch that Yuri vacated, holding his mate as close as he could get her, feeling her flesh burn to the touch.
“This isn’t good, Cal. This isn’t good, my wolf,” Sonia said, her voice weak, the fear in it palpable, her body’s struggles unceasing.
The door swung open and Orphenon followed by Calder ran into the room and straight to Sonia.
“The injection?” Callum bit out and Calder handed it to him as Orphenon got close, grabbed Sonia’s flailing wrist, and then dropped it immediately.
“Jesus,” Orphenon whispered, glancing quickly at Callum before he went for Sonia’s wrist again and demanded to the room at large, “A tub, ice, immediately! Get someone to my car to get my bag!”
Callum turned his mate and moved to inject her.
“How many is that?” Orphenon asked, his tone dire and urgent and Callum stopped.
“Dose two,” Callum told him.
“Your grace, I don’t think—” Orphenon started.
“It’s the only thing that works,” Callum clipped.
“It’s poison, your grace,” Orphenon whispered, Sonia gasped then bucked then arched and shrieked so loud, so long, and so horrifying, it was a wonder everyone’s ears didn’t immediately start bleeding.
Callum held her close but leaned into Orphenon. “It’s worked for decades.”
“I’m not sure it’s wise,” Orphenon replied but Sonia jerked mightily and shrieked yet again.
“If you don’t think it’s wise then what do we fucking do?” Callum snarled, setting the injection aside and again fighting her struggles in order to pull his mate close.
“We need to get her temperature down immediately,” Orphenon answered.
“Do you think?” Callum’s tone was snide.
“I can see you’re upset and I understand that, I do, but I know what’s in that injection, Callum, and two doses is absolutely not advisable.”
“She’s burning alive.”
“That’s why we need to get her temperature down.”
“Then how about we cease discussing it and do that?” Callum gritted.
“Cal, Cal, Cal, my wolf,” Sonia called suddenly, her voice strange, hideously weak at the same time desperate, and Callum jerked his gaze to his wife, his blood now ice in his veins at the sound. “Cal, Cal, Cal,” she chanted feebly.
“Baby doll, I’m right here.”
“Cal, it’s happening,” she whispered, her hand moving to clutch his lapel again.
“We’re going to get your temperature down, honey,” he assured her.
“It’s happening,” she repeated, her hand in his lapel tightening, drawing him to her, pulling him close, but she didn’t have to. He bent into her as frantic activity bustled in the room.
“We’re getting a tub of ice. It’s going to be all right,” he promised.
“You know I love you?” she whispered and Callum felt his heart squeeze because her tone was frail, but it was also final.
“Yes, I do and I love you too, baby doll. Now, hang on.”
“With everything I am,” she stated, so softly, her voice fading with each word and Callum felt her body burn into his as her fingers started to loosen on his lapel.
No, this was not happening.
He pulled her closer, tighter. “Stay with me, Sonia. Stay with me, little one.”
Her eyes filled with tears and held his as she whispered, “With everything I was meant to be.”
This was not happening. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t happen. She had to survive, at least until it began.
This was not fucking happening.
Then it happened.
His mate, his bride, his wife, his queen went limp in his arms. Her green eyes open and still on him, there was nothing behind them. No focus. No light.
They were vacant.
Dead.
Dead.
Just.
Like.
That.
He stared into her pretty face and whispered, “This is not happening.”
Sonia didn’t move, her hand had fallen away from his jacket, he felt no breath from her lips touch his face, the room around him was still, a dread feeling creeping through the space, slithering, cold, ugly, heinous.
“This is not fucking happening,” he whispered, cradling Sonia close, smelling her smell, feeling the burn of her body cooling.
He didn’t twitch as Orphenon moved in, placing his fingers to Sonia’s neck as Callum stared into her face.
Vacant.
Dead.
“Please, God,” he begged, “make this not be happening.”
Orphenon’s fingers moved away and he said quietly, his voice grave, “Your grace, I’m so sorry.”
It was happening.
Rage tearing through him, Callum surged up, holding his mate’s lifeless body tight to his massive chest, he threw his head back and thundered useless words, “This is not fucking happening!”
He felt a hand light on his arm and his mother’s soothing voice, “She’s gone, Callum, sweetheart. We knew this day would come. Please—”
Callum twisted, leaned in, and barked in his mother’s face. “This can’t happen!”
She didn’t flinch.
She lifted a hand to the side of his face, hers was tortured, understanding of his pain etched in her features, and she whispered, “I’m so sorry, my beloved boy.”
It was then, he felt it. His skin prickling. The change was coming and he knew he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t.
He didn’t even fucking want to.
He turned, bent, and placed his bride’s body on the couch like she was a piece of priceless crystal, which she goddamned was, and he stared into her eyes one last time.
Then he lifted a hand and closed them, his throat tightening, his skin beginning to burn. He bent deeper, taking in her scent, his eyes moving over her still flushed skin, registering she looked peaceful and hating it. Wanting her to sit up and argue with him. Tease him. Smile at him. Fuck, he’d take her writhing and shrieks if it meant she was still breathing.
But she wasn’t breathing.
He closed his eyes, pulled in her scent one last time, then bent close and touched his mouth to hers.
“My bride,” he whispered against her motionless lips. He opened his eyes and they met hers that were closed and would be for eternity. “With everything I am, everything I’m meant to be, baby doll. Always.”
He heard quiet, muffled female whimpers but he ignored them. He took off his wedding ring, lifted her hand and placed the band in her palm. Closing her inert fingers around it, he pressed it to her belly.
His pup.
He closed his eyes.
He lost his wife and his pup.
On his fucking wedding day.
Yes, he could take no more.
He turned, crouched and gave in. Leaping to wolf in mid-air, he landed on his paws and bolted through the bodies. Out of the room, past the guards, through the onlookers held back at the mouth of the hall who stared and gasped as they saw their king race through them, stepping back to give him room. One opened the door to the building and he shot through.
And he ran.
He ran for miles, for hours through the wood, his heart pumping, his paws moving, the needles on the trees brushing his fur.
He felt nothing.
Nothing.
In a way he knew he’d never feel anything again.
Except the pain.
Callum sat as wolf, howling his agony through the trees to the full moon.
It didn’t help.
It couldn’t help.
Nothing would help.
This was his eternity.
An eternity of agony.
He thought he was prepared for it.
He fucking wasn’t.
Suddenly, he smelled it. He stopped howling, his head jerked down and around as he came up off his haunches.
There was a she-wolf out there.
He stared through the dark trees, his body tensed as the scent came closer. It was familiar but it was not his mother, who he would imagine would come looking for him. It was also not any she-wolf he knew.
But, fuck, it was familiar.
Then she appeared, stumbling through the trees, clumsy, as if she’d transformed while inebriated, but as he watched he noted she moved not drunken but disoriented.
She crashed toward him, seeming, strangely, not at one with her wolf. In fact, her movements actually appeared frightened. Then her body suddenly jerked sideways and she stopped.
Her muzzle turned his way and the she-wolf went completely still.
Christ, even through his grief he registered she was a beautiful wolf. He’d never seen a she-wolf as beautiful.
Just as suddenly as she stopped, she charged straight at him, so fast, he barely had time to shift to the side to miss her. As she drove past, he bared his teeth and nipped her warningly but gently on a flank.
She whirled, moving toward him, whining.
He barked at her.
She came closer as he shifted away but she kept coming, trying to butt him with her head, her movements awkward, unpracticed, her wolf whine constant.
Fuck, she was a young wolf. So young, maybe it was one of her first transformations outside of pup. Young pups transformed constantly and with no control. Parents worked with them when they grew older to teach them how to manage the transformations to do it at will. It was likely she’d gotten away from her parents, but what was clear was that she was terrified.
He barked at her again and reached out with his teeth to nip her flank. She pulled her hind end away after she received his careful bite, so awkward, she fell to her haunch in the needles.
Callum barked again but she seemed unable to understand the wolf communication. She righted herself and kept trying to nuzzle him with her snout, constantly whining.
The noise, seemingly desperate and trying to communicate something she hadn’t yet learned to convey as wolf, tore at his shredded heart.
He wanted peace to attempt what he knew would be futile, soothing his ravaged mind.
As a wolf, and king of the wolves, he had to get this terrified she-pup to safety.
He rounded her and began herding her, something she clearly didn’t understand and fought, keeping on her course of attempting to butt him with her nose, her head, as if she was trying to mark him with her temple.
Definitely a pup. Instinctively, pups marked sires, mothers, siblings, and, sometimes, elders. She-wolves, as wolves and in human form, marked their mates and offspring. He sensed this pup attempting to mark him was an attempt to mark an elder.
He moved around her, continuing to steer her toward Canis, and it took some time but she finally seemed to understand what he was trying to do and began to run with him, falling to his flank and staying there as he led her to Canis.
Once they arrived, he’d turn her over to Regan to find her parents then he would lock himself in his study with a bottle of whisky (or five).
Or he’d transform again and spend the next year in the woods as wolf.
He was coming to the decision of doing the latter when he led them to the back door of the castle. Instead of transforming to man and in doing so maybe making himself incapable of controlling her, he pushed in through the tall, wide lower door set into it that was there to allow entry as wolf.
She followed.
He then crouched to make the transformation in order to latch the lower door so she couldn’t escape, but her deep brown eyes held his and suddenly she jerked around and started running through the castle.
Fuck, Callum thought before he darted after her.
Like she knew exactly where she was going, she raced to the steps and up them.
Fuck, Callum thought again as he raced after her.
Up she went, up, up, and she dashed straight into his and Sonia’s goddamned room.
He skidded to a halt outside the door.
He didn’t want to be there. He could smell her scent from outside and that scent, her scent, all that was left of his Sonia, he couldn’t bear it.
He didn’t want to be there. He never wanted to enter that room again.
He heard the she-wolf howl.
Fuck, he thought yet again as he snarled and shot into the room then he skidded to another halt and stared.
She was jumping around, leaping, her body twisting this way and that. She abruptly stopped, whined, got down on her forepaws then leaped again, twisting her body in mid-air.
She was trying to transform.
Callum used his haunch to slam the door closed in order to contain her, crouched, and leaped to man.
Quickly, he prowled to a wardrobe, yanked it open, and pulled out a pair of jeans.
Tugging them on, he ordered, “Calm, wolf, focus and crouch. Do nothing more. Hold there and then listen to me.”
She didn’t listen. She got down to her forepaws again, jerking her mahogany-furred head this way and that, then her wolf body stilled. Unexpectedly, she started digging under the couch, whining desperately, so frantic, she pushed the couch back with her body, her entire head shoved under the couch.
Then she backed out, lifted up, and twirled to him, Sonia’s stuffed wolf in her jaw.
Callum’s heart lurched and it was pure unadulterated agony.
That stuffed wolf, the symbol of him her parents gave her that she held close before she met him and continued to hold close even after she had him had disappeared around the time he found her rings in the fire. He had not questioned Sonia about it. Knowing she’d acted in anger with his rings, he suspected she’d done the same with her wolf.
Apparently, like the rings, her wolf had survived.
Now, with her scent that lingered in the room and his wedding band held in her lifeless hand, it was the only thing he had of her that held any importance.
“Drop that!” he snarled but she didn’t.
She rushed him, racing around him, circling, butting his thighs with her head, all the while whining.
“Drop the goddamned wolf!” he barked, leaning into her only for her to jump up to her hind paws and claw his chest with her front ones.
He pushed her off, made for Sonia’s wolf, but she jerked her head away and pranced out of reach.
“Goddamn you, drop my wife’s fucking wolf!” he roared.
She dropped the wolf, backed up until her tail hit the wall, then she burst forward. Suddenly stopping on a skid and crouching through it, she leaped, transformed in mid-air and dropped to the floor on her belly as human, her body naked and flushed, a mass of shining, extraordinary mahogany hair falling down her back and over her shoulders.
She was facing the floor, her hands to her sides, palms flat to the rug, and she was panting.
But Callum was frozen.
Completely.
He knew her scent because he knew her.
He’d dreamed her.
She was the she-wolf in his dreams.
“This isn’t happening,” he whispered.
“It seems,” she spoke and it was so quiet, even with heightened hearing he could barely hear her, “that I am like your people.” She lifted her head, arching her neck way back and Callum stared in shock, his body still frozen, as beloved, familiar green eyes caught his and she finished, “Wolf.”
Callum blinked as something inside him shifted, fluttered, lightened.
Hope.
But, even staring at her, he couldn’t believe it.
She pushed up to her knees, sat back on her calves, wrapped her arm around her breasts, the other around her belly, her eyes never leaving his, her glossy, magnificent dark hair framing her cherished face, and she noted, “Uh . . . the naked thing, not so fun. And, for a while there, I thought I’d be wolf forever. It was pretty cool until it was terrifying.”
“Sonia?” Callum called, his voice low, quiet, disbelieving.
She stared up at him.
Then she smiled.
Then she whispered, “Get this, wolf. I’m a wolf.”
She was wolf.
She was alive and she was wolf.
Callum came unfrozen and he was on her in less than a second. Hands under her arms, he hauled her up then tossed her across the room. She landed on her ass in the bed and he moved, landing on her.
Covering her body with his, his hands framed her face, his eyes caught hers, he watched the warm dark brown filter out the green and there she was.
His wife, his mate, his bride, his queen.
His wolf.
He dropped his head and kissed her.
Sonia curved her arms tight around him, spread her legs and then wound them around him, protectively, lovingly, and kissed him back.
It was just the same. Absolutely the same. Her taste, her kiss, his Sonia.
Just wolf.
Her human life will be fleeting.
But her wolf life could last an eternity
On that thought, Callum kissed her harder, and Sonia, as ever, returned the gesture. Her hands moving to the waistband of his jeans, she rounded it to the inside and he lifted his hips so she could get to his fly.
She made short work of it, pressing into him to pull his jeans down his hips.
She broke her mouth from his. “Now,” she ordered.
Callum didn’t make her ask twice. He buried his cock inside her heated wetness, straight to the hilt.
Her neck arched, her moan filled the room, her legs around him convulsed as her sex around his cock tightened.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“No,” he growled.
Her neck righted and she looked at him, perplexed, her brown eyes hungry.
“No?”
“Assume the position,” he ordered, felt his lips curve even as they muttered, “Wolf.”
Her eyes went hooded and he knew she understood. He pulled out, moved minutely to give her the ability to shift and she crawled out from under him. She got to her hands and knees in front of him then looked down the length of her body at him as he turned to a hip, yanked off his jeans then lifted up to position between her spread, quivering thighs.
He guided his cock to her opening, sinking just the tip inside.
“Cal,” she breathed, pushing back, but he withheld as he reached forward and wrapped a fist in her thick, lush, dark hair even as he kept his eyes to hers.
“Are you mine?” he asked and he watched her face go soft even as it grew hungrier.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “Are you mine?”
“Fuck yes,” he growled and drove into her, yanking her head back by her hair, but she’d already arched it, crying out her pleasure.
She reared into him as he drove into her, hard, deep, fast, rough, hot, fucking, fucking beautiful until he felt her sex spasming around him, her pants turned desperate, and her rearing turned to bucking.
“Cal,” she breathed.
Callum pounded hard and deep, the momentum growing, his consuming orgasm nearly over him. “Give it to me, baby doll.”
She gave it to him, arching her neck again, the sounds of her climax piercing the air, drowned only by his roars.
As it left him and Sonia’s left her, he gentled his strokes, his hands at her hips drifting over her skin, the pinpricks of her injection, he noted with some surprise, were completely gone.
Then again, wolves healed swiftly. Gaping wounds might take hours but needle pricks would take only moments.
It occurred to him then that there were a variety of people who had some explaining to do.
But he’d demand that later.
Now it would be about him and his bride.
He shoved his hips into hers, she knew what he wanted and came off her knees, spreading her legs wide and clutching his cock with her sex to keep their connection. He settled his body on hers, but even if she was wolf, she was still tiny and therefore he did what he always did, resting some of his weight into his forearms on either side of her.
With his chin, he nuzzled the hair at her neck.
“Good news for you. Apparently, I’m not a blonde,” Sonia muttered, he lifted his head and saw her eyes slide to the side to look at him.
They were still brown.
They were also smiling.
She was sated.
Happy.
Happy to be wolf. Happy to be his.
Callum moved his eyes to her hair and muttered back, “I’m going to miss it.”
“Liar,” she whispered and he looked back at her.
“No,” he stated firmly, lifting one hand to pull the thick softness away from her neck, running his fingers through it as he rested it against her other shoulder. “It’s true, baby doll. It was you.”
“I could dye it,” she suggested, her lips twitching.
He stared at her, feeling her under him, her sex surrounding him, wet and silky, her scent, part Sonia, part wolf, filling his nostrils, her eyes, now green with spikes of brown in them, warm and tender, and it hit him.
“We have eternity for you to try whatever color you want.”
Her mouth went soft as tears filled her eyes. Callum pulled out, rolled to his back, and pulled her on top of him. She shoved her face in his neck and his arms closed tight around her.
He held her as she struggled to hold back the tears and this lasted a good while before he felt her calm.
He took one arm from around her so he could pull her hair from her face as he asked, “Do you know what happened?”
She shook her head against his neck but answered, “One second, I was sleeping really deeply, the next, I was on fire again and suddenly up and . . .” She paused, lifted her head, looked down at him in wonder and cried, “Boom! I was a wolf. It was crazy. I didn’t know what to do, but my wolf body did and it took off. I know I caught your scent, even if it was only lingering. I followed it and I ran and ran and then I heard you howling and I ran right to you.”
He stared up at her trying to glory in the fact that first, and most importantly, his mate was not dead, and second, and nearly as important, she was not ever going to die, instead of giving in to the searing anger he felt permeating his joy.
“I think I destroyed my gown,” she muttered before biting her lip.
The searing anger dissipated because he burst out laughing. His arms closing around her, he rolled her to her back with him on top.
He lifted up and looked down at her face.
Her dark hair spread on their pillow framed it and he wondered if he’d get used to it. He had an eternity to do it so it was probable, but he was surprised that he liked the idea of her dying it. Just for a while. Just until he got used to this new Sonia.
He still needed the old.
He’d always need the old.
Then again, he had a feeling, as it all came clear, she was always this Sonia. She’d exhibited wolf traits and tendencies since the very beginning.
He should have caught it.
He didn’t.
Then again, this was unprecedented, human to wolf, so he’d never consider it. He also, in those precious moments, wasn’t going to allow himself to think of the indisputable conspiracy behind it.
He didn’t share any of that.
He muttered, “You’ll learn to leap out of your clothes.”
“Well, unfortunately, I wasn’t wearing an old pair of jeans but a fabulous wedding dress when it first happened,” she replied.
“If it’s torn, we’ll have it repaired,” he told her.
“That would be good,” she murmured, he grinned, dipped his head, and touched his mouth to hers.
His grin faded and he whispered, “You died in my arms.”
Her head jerked and her eyes grew wide. “I did?”
She didn’t remember.
“You don’t remember?” he asked to confirm.
“I remember collapsing in your arms.” Her nose scrunched in a way that said she found it distasteful which Callum found an enormous relief. “I remember Yuri feeding. I remember you arguing with Orphenon, but then it all gets hazy and then . . . nothing.”
He nodded but stated, “You did, my little one. You died in my arms.”
She stared up at him, stunned. “How can that be?”
“I don’t know,” he answered.
Her head tilted to the side as her brows knitted adorably. “So you don’t know what’s going on.”
“I have an idea,” Callum replied. “What I do know,” he stated ominously, “is that someone is going to fucking explain it to the both of us.”
“This also would be good,” she whispered, her hands moving on his skin soothingly then her arms wrapped around him, her gaze on him grew assessing, and she pulled him close. “I died in your arms?”
“You did, honey,” he affirmed quietly, his voice suddenly ragged at the memory.
Her hand shifted to the side of his head, her thumb coming out to smooth his brow, his cheekbone, and then sweeping his lips.
He closed his eyes, memorizing that yet again even though he no longer needed to.
Her words were ragged as well when she whispered, “I don’t know what’s happening but I’m so sorry, my handsome wolf.”
He opened his eyes. “Don’t be. You’re here. You’re wolf which means you’ll always be here.” He pressed his chest to hers on the “always.” “We’ll soon understand why it happened and I’ll make certain that nothing this fundamental is kept from us again.”
She studied him even as she nodded.
Then she smiled a tremulous smile. “Cal, I’m wolf.”
Callum smiled back and his was not tremulous. “You are, baby doll.”
“I’m wolf,” she breathed.
“As I always knew, perfect for me,” Callum told her and her eyes focused on him.
“Perfect for you,” she repeated, her smile strengthening.
“As I’m perfect for you,” he declared.
“Yes,” she whispered, her hand at his head became an arm wrapped around him again and both her arms went tight. “Can I ask one thing?”
“You can ask anything.”
Love and gratitude gleamed in her eyes before she lifted her head from the pillows to touch her mouth to his.
When she set it back, she requested, “When you unleash all holy hell on whoever did all this, uh . . . stuff, can you do it fast so we can still go on our honeymoon?”
Callum stared at his bride.
Then he burst out laughing again and he did this while rolling her and then he did it while knifing to sitting and kissing her.
With his mate straddling his lap, his hands in her mahogany hair pulling it away from her beautiful face, he answered, “Absolutely.”
Then King Callum brought his queen’s lips back to his and he kissed her again before he did other things to her.
And all of it was perfect.