He put a knee to the bed and settled carefully on his side, up on a forearm, close to her immobile body and cautiously he reached out and laid a hand flat against the small of her back above her cords.
She turned her face away.
“Baby doll, look at me,” he ordered gently.
Sonia didn’t move.
Callum decided not to push it even though he disliked her resting her head on its injured side.
He slid down the bed so his head was in his hand, his elbow in the pillow, his body nearly brushing hers as he leaned forward and way too late whispered his secret in her ear.
“I’m a werewolf. My people are werewolves. As you know, I’m their king, as my father was before me, his father before him.”
Her body tensed tighter and tighter with each word he spoke but other than that she didn’t move.
His hand slid along her skin to curl his fingers around the side of her waist and he continued, “I’m immortal. I’m three hundred and eighty-three years old. I was there that night thirty-one years ago when your parents died. I was there on instinct, to protect you because you were alone. I’d got shot because I’d gotten cocky and you ended up protecting me.”
No movement, no sound.
Callum pulled in breath.
Then he kept going, “Werewolves are not what you think we are, not what you’ve seen in movies. We don’t change only during a full moon, we can change whenever we want and change back just the same. You can shoot us with silver bullets and our flesh will just eject it and heal. We live our lives in wolf settlements, like the town, or amongst humans. Like humans, we try to do no harm and we mean no ill-will to anyone. As you’ve seen, my people are kind and friendly, different than yours in many ways, but none of them bad.”
No response.
Callum kept going, belatedly sharing with his queen information he should have told her weeks before. “We’re born wolves. We have no capacity to make humans into wolves with a bite. No one understands truly how we came about, though there’s a great deal of research that’s been done. We do know we’ve evolved from wolves, unlike vampires, which you’ve learned also exist, who evolved from humans. There’s no magic, nothing supernatural, nothing sinister, we’re of nature, just like you. A she-wolf gives birth and a pup grows, slower than a human child, five years for wolf to every one for a human. Then we lock in our development somewhere in our late thirties and we never show any signs of further aging.”
Still, no reaction.
“Honey, please look at me.”
Her head turned on the pillow again and when her eyes caught his, hers were blazing with hatred.
His gut wrenched and his face dipped to hers.
“This, what you’re feeling, how you’re looking at me, is exactly what I wanted to avoid by not telling you,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion.
Finally, she spoke.
Her voice trembling with loathing, she whispered, “Obviously, you failed.”
“Little one –”
“Go away, Callum.”
“No,” he replied and she closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she asked, “Why would I ever think you’d give a gosh darn about what I wanted?”
Then without hesitation she again turned her face away.
Briefly Callum weighed the virtues of giving her what she wanted and asking Leah to stay the night with her. Then he decided she’d not benefit from his absence because she could think she could get used to it.
Which she could not.
Carefully, he moved from the bed. He felt his jaw harden when she didn’t fight nor did she move at all when he pulled off her boots, lifted her ass gently at the hips to unbutton and unzip her pants and he pulled them down her legs, leaving her panties. Then he disrobed, turned out the lights and joined her in bed, sliding again along her side, pulling up the hides and, slowly and cautiously, forcing her body to her side, facing him.
She had to turn her head again when he did this and she glared at his throat.
“Does it hurt to lie on your side?” he asked softly.
She gritted her teeth then bit out, “I don’t feel anything.”
“Good,” he murmured. “I don’t want you lying on that wound at your temple.”
She made no response, simply continued to glare at his throat.
He pulled in a deep breath and let it out just as deeply.
Finally, he admitted on a whisper, “I fucked up, baby doll. I wanted to tell you time and again but I just couldn’t find the right moment.” She remained silent so he continued, “I didn’t expect that to happen. I didn’t expect that to be how you’d find out. I wanted to control it, protect you, manage your reaction. I knew it would be a shock and I wanted to cushion the blow.” She didn’t speak so Callum lost patience and demanded, “Baby doll, fuck, give me something.”
Her eyes lifted to his and she asked with acid curiosity, “How can I give you something, Callum, when you’ve already taken everything I have to give?”
Callum froze at her words.
With a hand in the wall of his frozen chest, she pushed away and resumed her place on her belly with her head turned from him.
Callum came unstuck, his temper flared and his arm snaked out, hooking her at the waist and, with a carefully controlled movement, he slid her toward his body so that her side was tucked in his front.
Then he leaned down to her ear. “I understand you being pissed, little one, you’ve a right. Especially considering you were injured in the fray but, I’ll point out only this once because we’re never fucking speaking of it again, that was your own damned fault.” Her body got tight in his arm but he ignored it and carried on, “I’ll give you time. But you’ve never experienced anything from a single one of my people to continue having this reaction to them after the shock wears off. As for me, I’m willing to pay my penance but I’ve explained I was coming at this from a good place with your best interests at heart. If you don’t come to terms with that, and soon, I’ll not be pleased.” She didn’t speak so his fingers gripped her waist, still gentle but in a way she couldn’t miss. “Now tell me I’m understood.”
Instantly, still facing away, she replied bitterly, “Oh, you’re understood, your grace.”
Callum growled low.
Sonia didn’t make another noise.
Callum scowled at her hair.
Then his hand moved and his thumb encountered bandage. His anger evaporated, his eyes closed and visions of her little, prone, bleeding body lying on the steps to their home filled his brain. To dispel the images, his eyes shot open.
That night was not the night for her to die.
But, for one unbearable second, when his eyes took in her wounds, he felt that sinister sliver of fear score through him.
Callum leaned into her cautiously and shoved his face in her hair.
“No one can piss me off like you do, honey,” he whispered there. “But I’m sure as fuck relieved you’re all right.”
Her body tensed at his first words and stayed tight for long moments after he finished speaking.
Then, slowly, it relaxed.
And, with it, so did Callum’s.
* * * * *
Callum woke several times in the night to check his mate and stoke the fire.
It wasn’t until a muted, gray dawn started slowly to sweep the sky that he woke her one last time.
Sonia mumbled sleepily that she was all right as she’d been doing all night.
But this time, she turned into him. Still on her belly, she pressed her soft body into the side of his hard one, rested her cheek on his pectoral and her arm stole across his stomach.
Her weight settled heavily into his and he knew she was asleep.
Callum also knew it would be all right.
For actions, especially when they were instinctive, for both humans and wolves, said a great deal more than words.
His hand gathered her hair in one fist, he twisted it until it was a long rope
and then he coiled it around his palm and, he too, finally fell asleep.
For all of ten minutes because, soon, he’d learn, they were coming.
* * * * *
“Regan, the plan was agreed.”
Regan stared out the window at the dawn’s very early light, in fact, there was almost none and snapped into her mobile, “Well, I didn’t agree.”
“Yes,” Gregor returned calmly. “But Mac, Lassiter and I did.” He saved his winning point for last. “And so did Cherise.”
Regan knew that.
She knew it.
She shut her eyes tight.
“Gregor, they’re suffering,” she whispered. “Especially Sonny.”
She heard Gregor’s pained sigh before he replied softly, “They’re meant to, Regan. You know this has to be the way.”
“Why does it have to be them?” Regan cried.
“I don’t know, it just does,” Gregor answered in a way that stated eloquently he liked it about as much as Regan did then he finished, “Regan, you know, this isn’t just the way it has to be, it’s the only way.”
Regan was silent.
This silence, they both knew, was her agreement.
“Describe her wounds again,” Gregor demanded and Regan did as she was asked even though it was the third time she did then Gregor went on. “Tell me what Callum’s done to Titium.”
“Ordered Ryon and Caleb to incarcerate him and his men. They’ll all stand trial.”
“He has too much of Mac in him,” Gregor grunted and, despite her escalating sense of despair, Regan smiled.
Only Gregor, a vampire, would think Callum had too much Mac in him. By the wolf’s standard, Regan’s son was ruthless.
Though, not as ruthless as a vampire.
“As I told you,” Regan reminded Gregor, “Titium howled surrender before Callum could attack.”
“Too much Mac,” Gregor repeated.
Regan changed the subject. “You’ll need to come to her.”
“Yes,” Gregor agreed. “Earlier than expected.”
Regan held her breath a moment before saying, “You’re going to –”
Gregor interrupted her, “There’s no reason to delay.”
Regan sagged against the windowsill in relief.
Soon it would be over, for her son and for Sonia.
Thank God.
Then she blinked into the slowly rising dawn.
Not because it was bright.
But because the cars had started coming.
She stared.
“Regan?”
“I’ve got to go,” Regan said distractedly.
“What is it?” Gregor asked as Regan saw the shadows forming on the hills, coming from tents, moving slowly, making their way to the castle.
She felt a thrill slide up her spine as tears filled her eyes.
And softly, but with immense pride, she whispered, “My people are attending their queen.”
Chapter Nineteen
Werewolves
Sonia felt like she’d just fallen asleep when Callum moved, sliding gently away from her but holding her body still. Only when he’d disengaged did he settle her carefully on the mattress, a pillow under her cheek where his chest had been.
She felt his heat leave the bed but the hides came up to her neck and then they were tucked softly around her.
She drifted but on the edge of her consciousness she heard a door open and close.
Then she drifted again until she heard hazily from somewhere far away Callum muttering, “Bloody hell.”
She smiled into the pillow and then let out a soft, fluttering sigh. She loved it when he got annoyed, she thought it was cute.
Though she’d never tell him that.
On that fuzzy thought, she fell asleep.
For about thirty seconds.
“Baby doll,” his big hand was curled around the side of her head, “you need to wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she tilted her head to look up at him.
Then a nagging ache struck her temple and a dull pain which hinted at something more piercing dragged her back and she remembered.
She closed her eyes and twisted her neck on a half wince. She heard him curse and her eyes opened again.
His mouth was hard when she looked at him.
“Does it hurt?”
Did it hurt?
Her head and back, sure. She’d banged her head on a stone step and had a freaking werewolf claw through her jacket.
But she hurt other places worse and for reasons that she knew down to the depths of her mortal soul, those wounds would never heal.
She decided to answer his question. “Just a little bit.”
His handsome face softened and she wanted to scratch it with her nails. She wanted to lean into it and scream. And she wanted to tilt her head and kiss him. She couldn’t do any of those things and she hated him for it.
“I’m sorry but I need you to come with me, honey, just for a little bit. Then we’ll get you back into bed and you can sleep,” he told her and then before she could blink he was gone.
She stared at the place where he’d been, suddenly uncertain that he’d even been there.
Then he was back, the hides were pulled away and he put his large hands under her arms and tenderly lifted her from the bed.
When she was on her feet, she tipped her head back to look up at him and started, “Callum –”
“Lift your arms for me, little one,” he murmured, his hands up, holding a stretchy, pink cotton nightgown.
Since she was naked (mostly) and a nightgown would be good, she did as she was told.
She winced when, at her movement, the dull pain became piercing.
“Fuck,” he hissed low at her wince, making fast work of pulling the nightgown over her head and then he commanded, “Arms down.”
Gratefully she lowered her arms as he carefully pulled the nightgown down her body, rounding to her side to yank it out before he tugged it down her back and it fell over her hips to her knees. She registered this vaguely as a novel experience, considering Callum was putting a nightgown on her rather than taking it off as, he’d stated repeatedly, he preferred her naked in their bed and usually did something about it.
He sat her down the edge of the bed and she stared, this time in out and out shock, as he knelt in front of her and put thick, woolen gray socks on her feet.
King Callum kneeling at her feet.
He’d only knelt for her once but that was to put his mouth between her legs.
Now he was putting socks on her feet to ward away a chill.
Before she could cope with this, he took her hand and cautiously tugged her up from the bed and then leaned into her, reaching to the side as she reared back (trying not to look as if she did) and he brought up her cashmere robe.
“Now this,” he stated. “Turn around.”
She did as she was told, mainly so she wouldn’t glare at the robe which, if she had been thinking, should also have gone in the fire with her rings and her wolf. She was doubly glad she threw the wolf in the fire now that she knew he was her puppy and he hadn’t told her that, not for weeks. Not, apparently, for years (though, she wasn’t actually doubly glad, she’d miss her stuffed wolf like crazy).
He pulled her robe up her arms and, hands at her shoulders, turned her around and gently tied it closed.
When he was done, his hands came to her neck and with thumbs at the undersides of her jaw he tilted her head back to look at him.
“You can walk okay?” he asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he replied, his eyes soft. He took her hand in his and guided her out the door.
They were down two flights when she tugged on his hand. “Callum, really, where are we going?”
She didn’t want to see anyone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to eat, drink or, possibly, breathe.
Since not breathing would be bad,
she decided she’d breathe but she wanted to do it somewhere alone so she could get her thoughts in order and sort out her crazy, unbelievable life. A life which was already pretty unbelievable, say, because it included kings of secret sects of society and enchanted castles in tiny, unknown, independent countries in the depths of Scotland. But now she was forced to come to terms with the fact that she had to share that life with an arrogant, self-absorbed, philandering werewolf.
“It’ll only take a minute, baby doll, and then back to bed,” he told her, not pausing in leading her down the steps.
If whatever it was would only take a minute, which seeing someone, talking to them or eating and drinking the way Callum’s people did would take longer than that, she followed without protest.
At the front door, he stopped her and turned her to him.
“One last thing,” he muttered and his hand went into the pocket of his jeans.
She watched, her breath catching, as he pulled out her wedding rings.
How?
What?
Again, how?
What, did he have backups or something?
He lifted her limp hand and slid them on her finger.
Then he lifted her hand further and bent his head to it where his lips touched her rings and brushed her finger.
Her stomach clenched, her heart leaped and her sinuses tingled with unshed tears.
That was how you put wedding rings on a woman’s finger.
Then just his eyes came to her, his lips remained at her hand and he said quietly, but very, very firmly, “Never take these off again, little one. Hear me?”
She was too stunned. She could do nothing but silently nod.
He lifted his head, squeezed her hand and then pulled her a bit back from the door. He opened it and, hand still in hers, he guided her numb body outside.
She almost stumbled at what she saw.
Across the clearing at the foot of the steps, around the fountain, even up the hill, not to mention tall warriors flanking the sides of the steps, stood Callum’s people.
Even Regan, Ryon, Caleb, Lucien and Leah were standing along the top of the landing.
All of them silent, some of them carrying candles, others holding bunches of flowers or tins.
All of them looking at the castle, looking at her.
In her robe!