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 lead 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.
Then 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. Then 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.”
He 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 allowed, fortunately, 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 enquired.
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 into 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.
Chapter Seven
Family
“Um…” Sonia muttered.
“Quiet,” Callum clipped.
Sonia tensed in Callum’s arms.
It appeared her attempted escape had not been such a good idea.
She remained still, cradled in his arms as he marched angrily, no, furiously through the snow heading back toward the cabin.
She had made good her escape plan (kind of, before it was thwarted).
After their first very bad day which ended in a not-so-bad late evening, she decided to spend some time lulling him into a false sense of security before she got the hell out of there. She’d pretended, through his gentle explanations that he was king of a secret sect of society, to understand and acquiesce to his lunacy. And she found pretending wasn’t hard to do because of said gentleness, his talk of her father (insane and maybe even mean, even though what he said about her Papa was nice) and his father (who he obviously missed, or convinced himself he did).
Although it wasn’t hard to pretend during their chat, it was hard when she found out he expected her to sleep with him in the big bed.
Yes.
Sleep.
With.
Him.
She demurred (as anyone would!).
He insisted (but gently).
She demurred again.
He insisted (a bit more firmly).
She gave in.
Fortunately, this was relatively easy considering he was busy with the fires. This tugged at her heartstrings as she remembered her father doing the same thing. He was always at the fires in order to keep his family warm when they were at the cabin. In the bathroom, she had changed into one of her lacy, sexy, silky nightgowns and slid into bed before he’d gotten a glimpse of her.
Unfortunately, after he changed in the bathroom and walked out wearing nothing but a pair of navy flannel pajama bottoms, she got a full on view of his chest. His massive, defined, muscular chest, complete with a furring of hair that was spread in a tempting array across his chest and down his belly. Chest hair that only the hand of God could have created after which, God could only remark, “My work here is done.” Callum’s chest hair was just… that… perfect.
Really, the cosmos had it out for her.
He’d slid into bed beside her and she was certain his big body would take most of the space (it didn’t, she had a nice, comfy section all her own).
He called a soft goodnight to which she’d replied in turn.
Then she held herself tense waiting for him to try something.
He didn’t.
He lay on his back and she listened as his breathing grew steady.
It took a while but finally Sonia fell asleep.
Unfortunately when she woke up, she found he’d turned his back to her but she’d turned into him and was spooning him all down his length. Close to his length. Her knees cocked in his, her hips snuggled in his, her arm around his waist, her torso against his back but her forehead was pressed to his shoulder blade.
She started to pull away. Before she could succeed in this, however, his fingers curled around her wrist and kept her where she was.
“I, um… need to go to the bathroom,” she told the smoothly muscled skin of his back.
He released her wrist but rolled, she scooted back to avoid his big body but before she could scoot out of reach, his arm tagged her waist and he pulled her mostly underneath him.
Her eyes caught his and his were tawny.
Good goodness, but she liked it when his eyes went tawny (even though she told herself she didn’t).
“Look forward to waking up like that every day, baby doll,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with sleep.
Sonia gulped.
Callum smiled.
Her heart clutched at his smile.
His head dropped down and to the side, he rubbed his temple against hers and then he let her go.
That day couldn’t have been more different than the one before.
They did not fight.
They ate way too much and way too fatty foods.
They talked. About his father, her father and the fact they’d been long-time friends (supposedly). About his kingdom which, apparently, was world-wide and included armies and territories which were overseen by governors and all sorts of other stuff.
Seriously, he had a vivid imagination. It was fascinating but it was insane.
Though, deep down, the more he talked and the pride and fondness in his voice made her want to believe this world was real.
And he talked about her queendom. Essentially, she had nothing to do except the small duties of being at his side all the time and supporting him in everything he wished to do.
Even though she asked, he said they’d get into “the war” later.
Most of the talking happened while they were cuddling, either Sonia sitting in his lap or both of them stretched on the couch with Sonia in his arms.
Indeed, his informing her that his people were “affectionate” was an understatement. He was the touchiest person she’d ever met.
Gregor, nor Yuri, touched, hugged or cuddled. They were often coolly affectionate but not in any physical way.
But with Callum, even when they weren’t cuddling he found ways to touch her. Like while she was cooking, he’d get close, put a hand to her waist and look over her shoulder at the food she was preparing. Or when she was playing solitaire on his computer, he walked up behind her, wrapped his arm around her c
hest, pulled her back to his front and held her there for long moments before bending, rubbing his temple against hers and letting her go.
He never said anything. He just touched.
He was, all day, as he promised, entirely different – patient and tender, sometimes teasing and sweet.
Especially when he gave her the injection. His reaction was no less severe and her reaction to his soothing embrace was no less deep.
Obviously, since he did have men (he, again, talked to them on the phone often that day and she’d even met the cheeky but deferential Waring), she decided he was a leader of a cult or something. Somehow, he’d locked onto her as his “mate” and, being the leader, had convinced his people she was their queen.
They had resources. That was also obvious. Even small as it was, her family’s cabin was outfitted spectacularly. His and her clothes were outdoorsy but they were of an excellent brand and very high quality. His cell phone and computer were top of the line. The kitchen was not only stocked to the gills, everything in it was the finest you could buy – from the appliances, to the utensils, pots and pans even the food.
She didn’t believe a word he said about her father but she reckoned, in his loopy mind, he did.
It was sad that this glorious man was obviously not well.
But it was scary that, as the day progressed, something was telling her she didn’t care.
She understood how he recruited his followers. Because he was the kind of man you followed, even if he was insane.
There was something about him. It was more than the fact that he was incredibly good-looking (but that helped). More than the sharp intelligence in his blue eyes. More than the rich depth of his attractively accented voice. More than his manner filled with absolute confidence and exhibited through every movement of his powerful body and every word he spoke.
It was the quiet yet fierce force of his personality which was compelling and nearly impossible to resist.
As the day wore on Sonia found she wanted to believe in his world, to be a part of it, even (Lord forbid) the ridiculous but appealing idea of being his queen.
With Everything I Am Page 10