The pool bottomed out at waist-deep, so she dipped her knees to bring the water up to her shoulders and ducked her head backward to wet her hair. Sam watched her from the bank, giving her space. Callie moved carefully to the far edge of the pool, where it was ringed by a group of large rocks jutting up and out of the river. Perfect platforms for lying out in the sun. She’d have to wade through the freezing pool to get back to shore, but she climbed up anyway. The sun-warmed stone felt glorious after the cold water.
Her body relaxed while her mind churned over the conversation she’d overheard earlier, the argument last night that had led to the sex, the way he was clearly hiding something from her now. And in spite of it, she still wanted him. Arousal thrummed through her veins, and the voice in her head was still crowing with delight that she belonged with him. How could she belong with someone who was lying to her?
She’d kept her distance back at the cabin as some sort of last-ditch attempt at self-preservation. She shouldn’t get attached. Yet she knew if he climbed up on the rock next to her, she’d be hard-pressed to keep her hands off him. She squeezed her thighs together, thinking of the sight of his cock rising in front of her. Only a few days ago, she’d never allowed herself to think of how glorious Sam’s naked body might be; now she knew intimately how good it felt to have him between her thighs. Her clit throbbed in time with her heartbeat, a quickening, and she raised herself up on an elbow and glanced around before she slid her fingers between her labia and closed her eyes.
She stroked her fingers down her slit to dip into her pussy, trying not to think about how full, how possessed, he made her feel when he was inside her. When she’d gotten dressed after he left her that morning, she’d discovered little bite marks all over her body, and she’d liked them. She’d felt the faint bruise he’d left on her shoulder the first time and she loved it. She was his. He was hers.
“Callie.” Wet hands stroked her, cool droplets from his hair and beard dotted her skin as he pressed kisses to her neck. She should push him away, but it felt too good. She kept her eyes screwed shut and let him kiss her, touch her, while she kept pumping her own fingers in and out of herself.
Sam trailed his mouth down to her breasts, took a nipple into his mouth and sucked. His mouth was scorching hot after the cold water, his tongue moving in lazy circles that went straight to her clit. He switched to the other breast and gently closed his teeth around her flesh. Callie whimpered and worked her fingers faster, ground her clit into her palm as she did.
He pressed his body closer to her, his skin still cool against hers, his cock hard at her hip. Skimming his hand down her belly, he gently but insistently pushed her hand away, nudged her legs apart, and got to his knees between them. He kissed her stomach, her hips, pushed her knees up and dipped his head to her pussy and inhaled deeply.
He growled low in his throat and swept the flat of his tongue through her folds, ending with a short, sharp suck of her clit. She gasped and he rumbled and used the tip of his tongue to make tight, hard circles and pushed two fingers into her. She jerked her hips as he thrust his fingers, the dual sensations of his hand and his mouth almost enough to send her over the edge. She wanted to feel him, all of him. Naked on a rock in the middle of the river, she wanted him to take her like the animals they were.
She clutched at his shoulders and pulled him up to her face. She kissed him and tasted herself on his lips, smelled herself in his beard. She lifted her hips in invitation.
“We shouldn’t.”
“I don’t care. Pull out. I need to feel you.” She whined in the back of her throat, a sound as much wolf as woman.
He thrust home and the falls below them caught her scream. The rock dug into her back and her hips but she didn’t care. She had to feel this. One more time. Because she couldn’t let it happen again.
“Fuck, Callie, you feel good,” Sam groaned as he started to move. “I’m not gonna last. What do you need?”
The slide and drag of his cock inside her, the way he filled her and thrust deep into her, made her toes curl and her voice catch in her throat. “Fingers. Clit.” He shifted his weight to snake a hand between them and press his thumb to her clit. His fingers fanned out over her hip and squeezed as he started to circle the nerve endings. Callie clenched around him and moaned, “Yeah, like that. Harder.”
He fucked her harder, each thrust adding a jolt of pressure where his thumb pressed down on her clit. Her thighs tensed and her toes pointed and pleasure coiled in her belly, until she couldn’t hold the tension and let go with a wailing moan as she came. Sam pulled out and stroked his slick cock, the lines of his neck rigid above her. He came with a shout, splashing her belly with hot semen while he wrung himself dry.
Without the distraction of arousal, and with streaks of come drying on her belly, all the hard and sharp places of the rock dug into her flesh, and the sun burned hot on her skin. She sat up gingerly.
“I’m going to rinse off.”
She slid down into the pool and underwater before Sam could say anything.
Chapter Seven
Callie was quiet for the rest of the day. There was something final about her silence, like up at the falls was a last hurrah before she pulled away for good. Sam let her be. He didn’t sense panic or restlessness in her, only a resigned stillness. She’d said they should make the best of it while it lasted, but he’d thought it would last for more than a day. Being near her was making him itch with the need to touch her, hold her, fix the fucked-up situation he’d gotten her into.
She was tucked into a corner of the bed with a warped and battered paperback that had been in the cabin for God only knew how long when his father appeared out of the forest again. Sam had heard him coming, his senses on high alert for any intrusions into their space, but Callie startled bolt-upright when his boots hit the porch. Sam fought the urge to rub her back until her heart settled.
His father opened the door. “Sam, outside please.”
Callie wrapped her arms around her knees and curled into a ball on the creaky bed. Sam couldn’t leave her. He wanted to be out of earshot, but the thought of leaving her with no protection made panic spiral in his gut. He looked at her, and she eyed him suspiciously, no doubt hearing his racing heart.
His father sighed. “Fine, you can both hear this. Dunphy’s calling an emergency session. You’re to report for a hearing on Sunday.”
“What? How did he get enough members on that kind of notice?”
“We’ll worry about Dunphy’s friends in high places when this is over. Right now, he’s gotten half the council to believe you attacked Callie without provocation.”
Sam’s blood froze. This was so much worse than intervening in a human emergency. They’d put him on a steady diet of tranquilizers and constant supervision for the rest of his life for an unprovoked attack. His father would lose his place on the council, his brother or one of his cousins would have to take leadership of their clan. “No. No. Dad, I didn’t. She was dying.”
His father’s temper cracked. “Christ, Sam. You’re my son. This is a power play. Callie was nothing but a pawn.”
Callie whined from her place in the corner. Without thinking, Sam went to her and pulled her into his shoulder. “What do we do? Bren was there, he saw the shape she was in, even if he didn’t see her get hit.”
“I know. Did anyone aside from you and Brennan see her in the street, or see you bring her back to the house?”
“I only know Bren was there in the road. I—I did it under the trees at the school. There were only a couple of people left when we brought her back. I took her through the front door so no one would see her. Bren told people she tripped and passed out.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone else what happened?”
“There were other people there, humans.”
“Why didn’t you bring her to me?”
“You think you won’t be interrogated by the council?” his father asked sharply. “They’re looking for any reason they can to turn this on you, and me, and all of us. Dunphy wants control; we can’t let that happen.”
“I know.”
“Callie?”
She pulled out of Sam’s arms and cleared her throat. “Mr. MacTire?”
“I need you tell me exactly what you remember.”
“I don’t remember anything. I was doing shots with Ryan at the campfire, then I woke up in Sam’s bed feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. That’s it.”
“We need you to do better than that,” he said pointedly.
“You want me to lie.” Her voice was wooden. “You want me to lie so Sam stays out of trouble and you keep your council seat.”
“This is more than trouble. How long have you been friends with my son?”
“Since I was five.”
“Do you love him?”
Sam glared at his father and held his breath.
“He’s my best friend.”
A piece of Sam’s heart broke and it was his own fault. He was only a temporary solution to the problem of her changing body. He knew that. Hearing her dodge the question still hurt.
“Fine. Do you know what will happen to your best friend if the council finds him guilty of attacking you?”
She raised an eyebrow, ire taking over fear in her too. “We haven’t exactly had time to get into the details of the wolf legal system. Or anything, really.” She directed the words at him and Sam winced. “In fact, this is the first I’ve heard about a hearing or a plot or anyone named Dunphy.”
“Callie—” Sam reached for her hand.
“Enough.” His father glared at them both. “You can fight about it later. Callie, they will drug and isolate him for the rest of his life. I understand that you’re angry about what’s happened, but if my son is your best friend, don’t let them do this to him.”
Callie gripped the thin mattress and closed her eyes. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” The chair scraped the floor as he got to his feet. “Both of you, stay put and get your stories straight. I have to go track down your cousin.”
“What? Where’s Bren?”
“I told him to lay low for a few days. He’s probably in a hikers’ hut somewhere.”
The screen door slammed behind him and Sam listened to the crunch of the dirt under his boots going back down the trail. He braced for Callie to turn on him. He could feel the anger radiating off her, but she got up and went outside without a word.
He’d been sure he was doing the right thing, not giving her sketchy details about what might be happening out there. And now this, worse than he’d ever imagined. They didn’t think he crossed a line trying to save his friend, they thought he had done it on purpose. That he was so obsessed with Callie he would lose all control.
He would give anything to change that night, to have realized she was too drunk to even walk home. He should have put her over his shoulder and dumped her on the couch when he found her slumped over at the picnic table.
He had to make her believe it.
* * *
It had all been a ploy to get her to lie for him. He’d used her. Lied to her about his feelings to keep her pliant and calm. Maybe it was some essential thing about being a wolf she didn’t understand, everyone seemed so comfortable with lies and half-truths and omissions. With the need for secrecy gone, all she’d asked for was honesty, and he hadn’t even given her that.
Callie paced around the fire pit, the restlessness not giving way to the urge to shift, only a slow burn of anger and frustration and the sick sense that she’d been betrayed by the one person she thought she could always count on. She stiffened at the sound of footsteps.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Callie, please.”
She turned on her heel to face him. “I asked you to tell me what was going on and you lied to me.”
“I didn’t want to scare you when none of us were sure of anything.”
“Yeah, I know. I heard your father this morning. ‘Keep her here and keep her calm.’ Now I know why.” He blanched slightly. Good.
“You didn’t tell me you heard that.”
“And you swore you weren’t keeping anything from me. Let’s do this one more time. What the fuck is going on?”
Sam sat on a log with his head in his hands. “Okay. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Who the hell is Dunphy and why does your dad think he ran me over with a truck?”
“Patrick Dunphy is an asshole from up north who’s wanted my dad’s seat on the council for years. If he can prove my father is unfit to hold it, like, say, by showing that his son is out of control and a danger to the community, then he can take the seat and gain control of the whole region.”
“And that’s a bad thing, because...? Do wolves not believe in democracy?”
“No, they don’t. And Dunphy is the kind of guy who has his goons hit innocent bystanders with trucks. Not someone you want in charge of the safety and security of our families.”
“Why me?”
“Because if you were hurt it was guaranteed I would react.”
“Because I’m your best friend.”
“Because I’ve been in love with you my whole life.”
No. He couldn’t be. He needed something from her, and she wouldn’t let him waste away for the rest of his life pumped full of tranquilizers, but he wasn’t in love with her. He’d used her. “I’ll lie to the council for you, you don’t need to pretend. The past couple of days were whatever they were, but you’re not in love with me.”
Sam took her hands and met her eyes, his eyebrows knotted with earnestness. “I meant it when I said I’d always wanted you.”
She wrenched her hands free and kept pacing. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening? Why didn’t you tell me about Dunphy or the council or the fact that you were in trouble? Why did you let me think everything was going to be okay?”
“You needed to stay calm so your body can finish healing, so you’re in control when you shift. It wouldn’t have done you any good to know.”
“You don’t get to decide that anymore. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle. Stop treating me like a goddamn child. I’m part of this. And I’m not going to sit around up here with you hiding and pretending everything is going to be fine when it sure as fuck isn’t fine.”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. I got hit by a truck and your dad just told me I was nothing but a pawn in some fucked-up political bullshit, and you’re telling me to calm down? I think I’m flipping out exactly the right amount.” The skin on her neck prickled. The wolf wanted out, wanted to forget all of this and run.
“Cal, please. You’re losing control.”
She growled in frustration and backed toward the edge of the clearing, where the trail led down the mountain and back to the highway. “I can’t look at you right now. I’ll vouch for you, but I can’t be in the same room with you. I have to go.”
“You can’t.”
“What are they going to do? Kidnap me in broad daylight?” She stalked off before he could answer. As soon as the trees and brush closed her out of his view, she started to run.
Running on two feet, she didn’t last long, but she couldn’t show up naked on the side of the road. She’d hitch back into town, say she got lost and dropped her stuff on the trail because she got too tired to carry it. It happened.
Eventually, she made it back down and skirted through the brush
on the side of the road until she got to the parking area at one of the trail heads. A nice middle-aged couple collecting four-thousand-foot peaks dropped her off right across the street from her apartment. Her keys were in Sam’s truck, but her neighbor had her spare set. She showered off the dirt and sweat from her impromptu hike and hit a second wind.
It was impossible to get a drink in Pullman without running into half a dozen people she knew, most of whom would immediately call the MacTires, so Callie drove to Chiswick and plunked herself at an unfamiliar bar. She’d scrounged up enough spare tips from around her apartment to buy a burger and a beer, and thanked heaven when the bartender didn’t card her. Her wallet was in Sam’s truck, too. She could get it back from him at the hearing.
Her anger was starting to burn out by the time her dinner was in front of her. Her thoughts skipped around, replaying scenes from the moment she woke up in Sam’s bed to now, sitting in a strange bar, ruminating into her fries. She wanted to hold on to her frustration, but she kept seeing the way he’d looked at her, the complete seriousness in his face when he’d said he’d always wanted her, that he’d been in love with her his whole life. She remembered the way he’d held her in the middle of the night as she struggled out from under her nightmare. The tears he’d shed when he’d told her she almost died. That he’d risked his life to save hers. He was her best friend.
But he’d kept things from her.
Because he had to.
She wanted to talk to him. She’d pay her tab and go to the house. She needed to see him.
A wiry older man sat down next to her. “You look like you’ve had a rough day, sweetheart. Let me buy you a drink.” He gestured to the bartender for another round.
Callie bristled at being called “sweetheart,” but she wasn’t about to turn down the kindness of strangers when it bought her a drink. “Thank you.” She raised her fresh pint and took a sip.
Mated: A Paranormal Romance Shifter Anthology Page 15