by M. L. Briers
“I’ll get the tissues while he cries it out,” Morgan sneered.
“At least you’ve stopped sneezing, brother,” Rowan chuckled, and Callum frowned, he hadn’t actually noticed. “Now try some wooing.”
Rowan turned towards the bar and Justice followed. Janette waved a hand towards Morgan, with a smirk.
“I’ll see you after my shift. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.” Janette grinned.
“Payback’s a bitch,” Morgan warned her.
“It’ll match your winning personality then,” Janette chuckled as she followed the others inside, leaving Morgan eyeing Callum like he was about to let his wolf burst out from inside of him.
“Let’s get your stuff in my truck and get you home,” Callum’s eyes were lit with victory, but there was still a darkness there.
“It’s not home - its Janette’s cabin-”
“You’re not staying with Janette,” Callum cut that idea right off there and then. She was his mate and she needed to be at their cabin… that idea bounced around in his head for a long moment. Their – from that moment on everything was now theirs.
“I’m not staying with you,” she snorted a laugh of disbelief.
“You’re right,” Callum nodded thoughtfully. “You’re not staying with me – you’re moving in to our home.”
Morgan tried to find a snappy comeback line for that one, but he’d floored her. Her mouth dropped open just a little as she stared up at him. Much like her old car at times; her brain couldn’t quite find a gear.
“Good. That’s sorted then.” Callum grinned.
Whoever said silence is golden must have been talking about their mate.
~
~
~
Callum reached into the boot of the car for her backpack and found her hand already on the strap. Neither one of them moved a muscle as they eyed each other.
“I’ve got it,” Callum informed her.
“And I’ve got a burping spell with your name on it; wanna sound like a bullfrog or a toad?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and her smile tempted him to believe that she was a she-demon sent from the bowels of hell.
He snatched his hand back and eyed her some more.
“Wise choice, proving you do have more than two brain cells to rub together.” Morgan hefted the backpack out of the boot and over her shoulder. Callum made no effort to control the growl that rumbled in his throat.
“This is going to get old fast,” Callum slammed down the boot.
“As most relationships do,” Morgan grinned.
“Not mates,” Callum shot back.
“I’m sure I can find a spell or two that gets you to the point where you want to kill me.” Morgan was almost sure of it.
He hadn’t been too happy with the sneezing spell and that was just a little one. She could imagine that if she really put her mind to it there would be something that he detested so much that she could push all of his buttons at once and send him running in the opposite direction on fast paws.
“Having spent a little time with you I can well believe that,” Callum shot back and Morgan’s eyebrows dipped towards her nose as she scowled at him. “But the difference is; my beast would never let me kill you, so you’re stuck with me until nature takes it course and one of us dies of a very, very, old age.” He grinned then – showing her two rows of perfect white teeth and just the hint of his fangs.
Morgan snatched her head back on her neck as if he’d reached out and slapped her. Then her top lip curled in disdain.
“What a horrible thought.” She sneered.
“Guess you’re going to have to live with it.” Callum chuckled at the priceless look upon her face – it was as if she’d been caught in an elevator when someone had farted. “For a long, long, l-o-n-g time.” He rubbed it in a little more, payback for all of those damned sneezes that she’d put him through.
Morgan felt the urge to hit out at him with a zap or two. Especially when he sniggered to himself as he strolled right past her towards the kitchen counter. She wasn’t sure how she managed to keep that urge under control when her fingers were itching like that and her magic was buzzing deep within her.
“Maybe I’ll just do us both a favour and kill you long before that.” Morgan muttered, but he’d caught it.
“Tell me, what else compares to finding your true soul mate?” He tossed over his shoulder.
“Freedom to choose,” Morgan sneered back.
“Freedom is an illusion, none of us are truly free.” Callum reached for a couple of glasses and a bottle of Scotch, shaking it towards her, questioning if she cared to partake. She raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“Now that’s the first sensible thing that you’ve done since we met.” She strolled over to him and perched on top of one of the stools at the counter.
Callum poured out the spicy liquid and slowly slid her glass towards her. She reached for it a little too quickly and brushed her fingers against his. Feeling that rush of tingles that ran up her arm and over her body, she snatched her hand away on a scowl of annoyance and waited for him to release the glass.
“Tell me why witches are so against finding their mate.” Callum was interested.
Both of his brother’s mates had fought and lost against the mating pull and wooing, but as mates were practically a foregone conclusion, he had to wonder why they bothered fighting at all.
“If you really need an answer to that then it shows just how pack you really are,” Morgan snatched up the glass the moment that he let go. Taking it to her lips; she tipped her head and swallowed it down in one, big, fiery gulp, after another until she’d drained the glass dry.
“What does that mean?” Callum refilled her glass.
“Pack – wiling to follow the leader – conformist – lives by the rules – predictable…” she shrugged her shoulders. How many ways did she need to saw the same thing? “Sheep – l-e-m-m-i-n-g-s…” she arched just one eyebrow in his direction and challenged him to deny it.
“Wow, don’t hold back,” Callum drained his glass dry.
“Don’t ask a question and expect me to deliver flowers and rainbows,” she shrugged.
“Perish the thought,” he growled into his empty glass.
“You’re repressed,” she informed him.
“Sweetheart, I think I’m depressed after that answer,” Callum shot back.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to just break free? Go your own way? Strike out on your own and do your own thing?” Morgan asked.
“Not really,” Callum turned his nose up at that idea. His brother, Dexter, had been the one to take off on his own, but that was because Justice had bettered him for alpha and he didn’t want to be his brother’s beta.
“I think rogue wolf would look good on you,” Morgan said. There was a flash of mischief within her eyes as he narrowed his on her.
“The fangs and claws look? Going around ripping humans throats open?” He shook his head. “Not exactly something to aim for in life.”
“Better get used to it, because I’m not staying.” Morgan leaned in and whispered as if it was a secret.
“Wow, nice punch line,” Callum growled.
Then he reached out and wrapped an arm around her, scooping her right off of the stool and yanking her against his hard body. His lips came down on hers with so much intensity that if he hadn’t of already swept her off of her feet that damn kiss would have done it for him.
Her stomach pitched and rolled. A lightning strike hit her womb hard and brought it to life, and every inch of her body felt that buzz from the mating pull.
Then he released her as quickly as he’d taken her, and she stumbled on her heels a little as she tried to get her brain to register what was happening to her.
“How was that for un-predictable?” He grinned. Not just any grin, but a hold onto your panties kind of a sexy grin that made her pull her head back on her neck and blink twice…
“I think I prefer predictability,” Morgan s
aid, tipping her head to one side and eyeing him with her best Medusa stare. “Let me show you how it’s done in my world.”
Morgan snapped her fingers and Callum knew a second before she zapped him that he was in for a whole world of hurt. It was written there across her face.
His knees buckled and there wasn’t a damn thing that he could do to save himself from going down. His kneecaps hit the floor hard, the thud jarred his body, but he didn’t notice that pain when what she was inflicting was so much worse.
“I – get – the – picture.” He ground out and she snapped her magic off, releasing him and making his body fall forwards onto his hands as they palmed the floor and managed to keep him upright while he tried to get his breath back into his lungs.
“Good.” Morgan reached for her glass and drained it dry again. Slapping it back down onto the counter; she stared down at him just as he snapped his head up and glared at her. “Because I hate to repeat myself. But, you do look kind of… cute on your hands and knees before me like that.”
Callum’s beast roared within him. The beast clawed and growled to be set free. His mate might just have taken a step too far this time.
~
CHAPTER FIVE
~
Callum reached up and wrapped a hand around her wrist. One moment she was giggling in quiet amusement, and the next she was flat on her back on the floor with his hard body over the top of hers, caging her in and making her the meat in the damn sandwich.
He’s hands snagged both of her wrists and pinned them to the floor high above her head, holding them there with just the one hand. She knew that she had been well and truly overpowered and overawed by the speed with which he had taken her down and disarmed her in more ways than one.
Excitement zapped through her body like a million arrows of pure unadulterated pleasure, and her mind was zipping with a fast moving slide show of just how this could go – most of those thoughts were X-rated. She gasped in a breath that got lodged within her throat as his nose almost touched hers…
Everything else was touching. His long legs were running up against hers. His hips rested gently against hers keeping her in place, holding her backside well and truly down against the floor. She had nowhere to go and no chance of doing it without her magic.
The hard muscles of his chest squished against her breasts and teased her taut nipples, and they prayed for mercy. She could feel the twitch of his hard length against her stomach, teasing, tantalising, and begging for her attention with that one simple act, and it got it.
“Has nobody ever told you what happens when you piss off a shifter’s wolf?” He growled long and hard.
“Has nobody ever shown you what happens when you piss off a witch?”
There was a slow to boil smile that took his lips. His inner predator was shining through in those moments as he tried to get to grips with the beast inside of him. The wolf wanted out.
He was in no danger of hurting her, not really. His wolf was well aware that she was their mate, and he would rather have cut off a paw than intentionally hurt her… but, if she decided to run – all bets were off.
“Big talk – little witch,” he teased her and saw her top lip twitch in annoyance.
“I had you on your knees, didn’t I?”
He gave her that. Her magic had crippled him.
“Yes you did. And I have no problem being on my knees in front of you…” he paused; his eyes narrowed a little more, and she knew there was more to come by the way that he looked at her, hungry. “But the next time I want you naked and open for my attentions.”
The rush of heat exploded inside of her, sweeping through her like wildfire, and nullifying her brain to a mushy pulp. The only damn thing that was pinging and ponging around in her mind was the vision that he had painted of them together, and it wasn’t as if she was repulsed at the idea.
“That’s so…” she slowly shook her head from side to side, but her eyes never left his, snared by his gaze, locked in place.
The awareness of his hard body against hers was making her whole body throb with excitement and anticipation… That wasn’t good…
“Appealing,” he growled that word out as if he could read her dirty mind. Like his eyes were looking into the windows of her soul and watching the X-rated movie that was playing there…
“About as appealing as a dose of the craps.” She rushed out and saw his lips twitch upwards at the corners. The little lines at the corners of his eyes grew longer and spread out as the smile took his lips…
“Liar,” he offered that one simple word and her whole defence came crashing down around her ears.
She was lying. There seemed to be this damn switch deep inside her that he’d flicked on, tantalised and teased by his sheer masculine presence, and she didn’t know how to turn it off again.
“Prove it,” the words were whispered from her lips as if she knew before her brain had spat out the words, without her even vetting them, that they were the wrong thing to say.
“Well now, that’s the best challenge that anyone has ever offered me.”
Wait!
What?
What challenge?
I didn’t…
Too late – his lips came down on hers with another rush of heat that exploded from her womb and travelled through every inch of her body. Her womb danced and gratefully accepted the jolts of excitement mixed with appreciation that came from the way that he kissed her…
Damn, soft lips…
Demanding…
It wasn’t the kind of first date, getting to know you, wanting to see if you’re going to kick me in the balls, kind of a kiss. No. This was a man who knew what he wanted, who knew what she wanted, and was stamping his claim on her lips, on her body, like an out of control juggernaut that swept her up for the ride.
What am I doing?
What am I doing?
Resist him at least… She berated herself.
Resistance is futile…
Oh, Goddess, he’s the damn Borg from Star Trek! He’s going to assimilate me into his pack without me ever having fired a shot…
I wanna zap him… well, not so much zap him…
I want him to stop… maybe, not stop – exactly…
This feels too good.
A carnal sin.
Kind of lucky I’m not religious!
The low, deep rumbling growl that seemed to stay within his chest added to the delightful torture and made her toes curl, or maybe it was the way that he was kissing her – dominantly possessing, and screwing with her ability to think straight – overwhelming her senses like a drug that she had no defence against…
His tongue curled and swirled, searching, seeking answers, claiming, tempting her to want more, too need more, too need him, all of him, every last inch…
Too much and not enough…
Then he broke the kiss and she could breathe. Not a breath in any real sense of the word – she dragged air into her lungs but it was forced right back out again when his lips trailed down her neck.
Morgan sucked in another breath as his tongue swept up the vein in her neck and his breath was hot and heavy at her ear… She pushed that breath out of her lungs again when he growled possessively, and then, when his blunt teeth nipped against the fleshy earlobe, her body almost convulsed with the pleasure that nip shot through her…
Her back arched as best it could under his weight. Her nipples rubbed against the hard muscles of his chest and she almost moaned at the feeling, but managed to catch it within her throat and bite it off.
Callum’s soft lips were back on her neck, and her eyelids closed to the helplessness of trying to fight the deliciousness of that feeling a moment longer. Lower down her neck, he stopped to nip and shot a thunderbolt right to her womb. Then his tongue soothed the skin and he moved on towards her shoulder as her head rolled to one side, allowing him open access, and causing him to growl like a wild thing.
His free hand yanked the soft material of her top down
from her shoulder, exposing her skin, and he traced his tongue against the flesh where his beast demanded that he place his mark.
Callum was more than aware that he could lose himself in this moment, of what that would mean to her, to him, if he allowed his beast the room to push forward now.
With an inner growl of warning to his beast; he closed his jaws over the soft flesh of her shoulder and pressed his blunt teeth down against the tender skin. Her hips pushed up against his – her legs pulled upwards, and she hooked her feet just inside of his knees, bringing him closer in a subconscious effort to seek more from him…
Callum knew in that moment that he had her where he wanted her – where he needed her to be. He was so damned tempted to rip off her clothes, have her naked body against his, and push deep within her – sheath his hard cock inside of her silken walls and take her the way only a mate could…
But that was something that he was sure he would regret for the rest of his life.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. Every inch of his body ached with a need to have her. It was that he didn’t want her like this…
He’d caught her off guard. He’d managed to sweep her up and take her along for the ride as the mating pull did it’s very best on her subconscious. But she wasn’t his. Not really. Not yet.
She might have given her body to him willingly, caught up in the moment, blindsided by the way her body had been swept up by the tsunami that had rolled over her without warning… but she hadn’t given herself, mind, body, and soul.
That was how he wanted her to come to him.
That was how he needed her to come to him.
He wouldn’t have her any other way.
Callum released his blunt teeth from her flesh and soothed over the area with his tongue. Running slow, deliberate circles over her skin in an effort to calm them both down, and to try to get a grip on his emotions.
He’d wanted to mark her. Hell, he’d wanted to bite and bond with her there and then, and his damn pushy beast had all but roared against the decision he made to back off.