by Unknown
“Oh.” He was so close to her she could feel his breath on her fingers.
“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, Aspyn. You’re a fighter, someone who knows how to take care of herself, and others. You’re a warrior with a heart of gold. It’s rare combination. Even among shifters.”
He brought her hand to his lips, glancing at her briefly as if judging her response, then closed his eyes before he brushed his lips across her knuckles. His lips were warm, softer than she’d have thought. The he raised his eyes to hers. They were dark, heavy-lidded. Something primal lurked there, something palpable. She wanted to touch him, touch the wild center of him, to feel that heat. Be consumed by it.
Aspyn was suddenly hot, too hot for the confines of the airplane seat. Her breath came short and fast, heart racing along. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the cabin.
What the hell was this?
Abruptly she pulled her hand away.
“You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you? That ‘seeing is believing’ mind game you pulled on me in my apartment? Nice ploy. Is this the distraction you were looking for? Playing with me to take your mind off flying?” Her voice grew more ragged with each word, something tearing at her that she didn’t really understand.
He glanced past her out the window. “Do you really think I’d that to you, here, at however many thousand feet we are about the Atlantic?”
“Stop being flip. You did that…thing…to me before, to get me to see who, what, whatever you are.”
“But I’m not doing that now. I needed to do that then. Whatever you feel, it’s you. Not me.”
Aspyn folded her hands in her lap. The subtle undercurrent of heat eddied around her, between them. She was pretty sure Callum felt it, that he’d started it. That he fed it.
“I don’t like being manipulated.” She turned toward the window, not wanting to look at those eyes. Not wanting to let him control her.
“Aspyn. I’m not…I didn’t.” He reached for one of her hands and she tensed for a second. But then she relaxed, let him take her hand in his. It was different this time, not the death grip he’d inflicted on her before.
“I’m sorry that ye think I tried to influence you, to make ye feel something ye don’t really feel. I can do that.” He squeezed her hand and she finally looked at him. “But with this, with your feelings… my feelings…never.” He shook his head. “I go on instinct. Trust your instincts, Aspyn.”
“Can I get you another ginger ale?”
Aspyn jerked her head up. The flight attendant was smiling down at Callum. Aspyn caught his look, the briefly cocked eyebrow.
“Would you like something, Aspyn?” He spoke to the attendant without looking away from Aspyn. She glanced back at the attendant. Her smile had gone a little cold around the edges, but her eyes were still locked on Callum.
“A Coke would be nice.”
Callum finally turned to the attendant. “A Coke and another ginger ale. Thanks.”
The attendant nodded and went off down the aisle. There was no lingering touch on the shoulder this time.
“You’ve broken her heart.”
“She’s not my type.” Callum was still watching the attendant walk away.
“Do you have a type?”
Callum turned to look at her, the cocky smile back on his face. “It’s my turn for the next question, not yours.”
She sighed. “Fine. Your turn. Ask away.”
“Whose clothes am I wearing?”
Aspyn went cold all over, her hand clenching involuntarily in Callum’s. But his grip was steady, his hand warm and solid. She wanted to pull away but there was nowhere to go. She was stuck.
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“I think it’s something ye want to talk about, to someone. I think it’s a secret you’ve held far too long. One you need to tell.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is time…time to just let this out.
“What the hell. Fine. I’ll tell. You told me your big, bad secret. I’ll tell you mine.” She shifted uneasily in her seat.
“His name is Charlie, Charlie Nichols. We lived in Atlanta then.” Aspyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d said Charlie’s name out loud. It hung in the air, like a bad omen. Or a bad smell.
“He was my fiancé.”
“But is no more?”
“Is no more.” She fidgeted again. “He was abusive.”
“He hit ye?”
“Sometimes. Mostly it was…emotional stuff. He liked to control things…and me.”
Callum was silent. She stole a glance at his face, expecting a look of pity, the same look she’d gotten from the police, from her mother. They’d looked at her like she was a victim. Treated her like she was a victim.
But the look on Callum’s face was as far from piteous. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed. He turned to her and she blinked. The fire in his eyes reflected the anger in her heart.
“I hope ye kicked his arse.”
Aspyn had no choice but to laugh. “Sort of. I mean, I kicked him out, once I got my head on straight.”
“And the clothes? Why keep them?”
“I had a restraining order against him. I locked him out. And I changed the locks. And then I moved. I just packed all his stuff and took it with me.”
It was Callum’s turn to laugh. “So he had to go buy everything new?”
“He did.” Her laughter trailed off. “But it didn’t end there. He violated the restraining order, started stalking me, calling my work, general harassment.” She remembered back to the times she’d found him waiting by her car at the hospital. More than once she’d asked the security guard to escort her to her car. And more than once Charlie had followed her home.
“The police knew us by name. I’d call them on my way home, Charlie would see them parked outside my apartment, and he’d drive on by. The police would tell me that driving by wasn’t a violation and to call them if he came to the apartment.” The bitterness was still there in her voice, in her heart.
“But you had this…what was it?”
“Restraining order. It’s about as valuable as the paper it’s printed on. Anyway, I moved, and then moved again. And he kept finding me. I finally moved to Chicago.”
“And he found you there?”
“Yeah.” She shook her head. “I only know how to be a nurse. It’s not that hard to track down a nurse, I guess.”
“But the clothes? Why do you still have them?”
“The first time I moved, he was in jail…a three-day domestic violence hold. I was in such a panic, in such a hurry to just leave, I threw everything in boxes, including his stuff. They came with me and I didn’t realize they were there until months later. Then later, I just kept taking them with me when I moved. They’re in the same boxes they were in, back in Atlanta.”
“Did you think I was him last night? Is that why you were waiting with the baseball bat?”
She nodded. His voice was calm, steady…still. Like after a thunderstorm at night, when the clouds are gone and the moon comes out. Stillness and calm.
Something inside of her started to crumble, a wall she’d built up all this time. Maybe it’s time to tell the truth. He’s a stranger…who’s he going to tell?
She slumped in her seat, eyes closed. “I’m so tired. Tired of running, tired of him finding me. Tired of the police not doing anything. I thought…maybe this time I could take care of it myself.”
“Ye wanted to fight back.” His voice was soft, the accent deepening. “The warrior in ye came out.”
“I guess you’re right.”
He raised her hand, opening his, until he was holding her hand, palm up. He held it gently, tracing his finger over her palm. Little shivers radiated out, sending a flush of goose bumps up her arm.
Overhead the fasten seatbelt light dinged and the captain’s voice began droning information about landing. But Aspyn barely heard any of it. Her whole being seemed focused on Callum.
“You’re a fighter, Aspyn. Never forget that.” He folded her hand into a fist before he brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. His eyes met hers.
“Never forget that.”
* * *
The layover in Newark was a five hour eternity. It was humid and dank, and to Aspyn the air smelled like a wet dog that had rolled in diesel fuel.
She was beyond exhausted. Callum had taken her to one of the lounges, bringing her a sandwich and soda.
“Sorry it’s sandwiches again. I promise I’ll buy you the most expensive dinner in the best restaurant in Inverness, once all this is over. Anything you want.”
“I’m too tired to care, really.” She took the sandwich, peeling away the plastic. “I just want to sleep. Don’t you ever sleep?” The sandwich was soggy, but she bit into it anyway.
“I’ll sleep later. Once we’re on the plane to Scotland, and I’m certain we’re not being followed.” He turned to her, half a smile on his face. “I’ll let you keep watch.”
Callum was watching the crowd, just like he’d done in Chicago. Chewing in silence, she wondered what he saw, how those people looked to him. Was everyone suspicious looking? Did he catch something in their scent?
She sniffed the air but all she smelled was the tuna in her sandwich, and the musty smell of the airport. She looked down at the remains of the sandwich in her hand. Then she slowly wrapped it back up. Her appetite was gone, her mind and body numb. Even working double shifts at the hospital she’d never been this exhausted. Then again, there had never been werewolves attacking her in her apartment. And she’d never killed a man before.
She closed her eyes. There was a dead man in her apartment. How the hell was she going to explain that? The police must have been there by now. Her landlord would evict her, she’d lose her job. She’d go to jail.
“Callum…” The sandwich fell from her hands, landing on the floor.
“Are you alright?”
She stared dully at the sandwich. A tear slid unnoticed down her cheek.
“I’m sorry.” She reached for the sandwich but Callum pulled her back and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Come here.” He pulled her down until her head rested in his lap. “Try to sleep. I’ll be here.”
It was harder to relax than she thought it would be, even lying with her eyes closed. It seemed to take hours before she felt herself drifting off. After a while she was aware of Callum’s fingers in her hair, brushing it away from her forehead. She smiled, reached up and took his hand.
“That tickles.” She didn’t bother opening her eyes. She heard Callum’s soft laugh and then his fingers were winding through hers. He settled their intertwined hands on her chest.
“It’s fine. I’m here.”
“I know.”
* * *
Aspyn was curled beside him on the bench in the lounge. She’d finally fallen into a deep enough sleep that he could slip her head off his lap and onto the bench. Exhaustion was finally catching up with him and he needed to move, to stretch.
He circled the bench where Aspyn slept, working the kinds out of his neck and shoulders. Being in a flying tin can was bad enough, but being stuck in an airport was worse. He felt open and exposed. Anyone walking by could be one of Malcolm’s hit men. Or women. Knowing the man, it wouldn’t surprise him if he’d sent a woman.
“Callum?”
Aspyn was sitting up, scanning the crowd, her voice tinged with fear.
“I’m here.”
She spun around, eyes wide “Jeez, you scared me. I thought…”
“Just needed to stretch. Sorry if I scared ye.” He came around the bench and sat down beside her. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“How much longer until our flight?” She stretched her arms over her head, tipping her head back, eyes closed. Callum looked at her. Her t-shirt stretched tight against her. Even though she was voluptuous, she was strong, he could clearly see it in the lines of her body. And that strength was alluring, attractive, sexy as hell.
It awakened something deep in him, beyond just admiration for her strength and her warrior heart. It was a great deal more primal, and a great deal more exciting.
But acting on those feelings was a different matter. As strong as she was, she was also wounded, fragile in a way she’d never admit. Push her and she’d pull away. And he’d lose her.
This wasn’t the right time anyway. They were being hunted in a strange place, certainly no place he was familiar with, no place to turn for help. No one to help them. They were in limbo.
“You slept for a long time. They should starting boarding soon. How do you feel?”
“Groggy. But better. I just want to be out of Newark.”
“Aye, I have to admit I’m anxious to be on my way.”
“You’re looking forward to flying?” She smiled at him. “I can’t believe that.”
“No, not the flying. But the getting there.”
The overhead speaker squawked to life, filling the lounge with boarding instructions.
“Well, it looks like you’re getting closer.” Aspyn stood up, holding out her hand. He looked up at her a moment, saw the smile on her face. He took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. “Come on. We should get in line.”
They crossed to the boarding area. “Do we have seats together? Or are you going to bully someone into giving up theirs? What if it’s a little old lady this time?” She was still holding his hand, smiling up at him. It was nice to see her smile. He’d accept her teasing him, too.
For a moment life seemed almost normal. As normal as he’d ever had. It felt good, right.
He grinned. “Well, for that little old lady, I’ll just be my charming self. You said I’m charming, even when I’m turning green. She’ll be putty in my hands.”
“Cocky bastard.” She was still smiling as they boarded the plane.
* * *
He did manage to end up in the seat next to Aspyn. The flight wasn’t crowded and empty seats were plentiful. A simple conversation with the flight attendant had him sitting next to Aspyn.
“No one to stuff into a bin this time.” He slipped into the seat, fastening his seatbelt.
She turned and grinned. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of chances to stuff people in bins later.”
“Aye. There’ll be plenty of chances.” All too soon.
The familiar shuddering of the plane brought Callum upright in his seat, rigid with panic, heart suddenly thudding wildly in his chest. Aspyn took his hand, winding her fingers through his.
“You’ll be fine. Just breathe, Callum. Breathe. It’s fine. I’m here.”
“Aye, I know.” He gripped her hand, closing his eyes as the plane took off. “And I appreciate it, more than ye know.”
* * *
They were their way home, to his home. Scotland and McCourt Castle. Callum opened his eyes.
“You handled that better than the other flight. I’m impressed.”
He turned to Aspyn. “You’re a good nurse, Aspyn.”
She squeezed his hand. “Are you afraid of what you’re heading toward?” Her voice had lost the commanding tone he’d gotten used to, the voice that told him to breathe, to focus on her. As much as he appreciated that voice, the one that kept him from losing it, this was the one he wanted to listen to.
He looked down at their joined hands. Her fingers looked delicate but there was a strength in them he found very appealing. They were hands that could be gentle, strong, caring…and could kill. It was a heady combination in a woman. Callum found he wanted to test her strength, and not just the strength of her hands. He closed his eyes, a sudden image rising up of her beneath him, on a bed of twisted sheets, each testing the other…
“Callum? I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
He turned to her, blinking as he focused on her face. Reluctantly he pushed the images from his mind. “You didn’t. No, I’m not afraid. Never afraid. But the man who I believe killed my fa
ther is waiting for me. The man who tried to have me killed…”
“Tried to have me killed, too. You called him Malcolm…something?”
“Aye. Malcolm Cameron.”
“He’s a member of your pack? Sorry…Clan?”
“He is, part of my pack, of my Clan.”
“And what do we do when we get to Scotland?”
“We don’t do anything. I find a safe place for you and I confront Malcolm.”
“Not so fast.” Her voice had a sudden edge of anger, anger he’d heard in her apartment, arguing with him over being forced to come with him to Scotland.
“I’m part of this. I’m not sitting in some hotel room, waiting…wondering…if you’re coming back or not. I’m in this now. You dragged me along on this and wherever you go, I go.”
Her eyes flashed and for the first time he noticed how deep blue they were. The anger probably had something to do with that. But this was the first time he’d really paid attention.
“Aspyn…”
She pulled her hand from his. Instantly she was pointing her finger at his chest. “You can’t tell me what to do. You can’t control me. I make my own decisions.”
“Aspyn, I’m not trying to tell you what to do…”
“Yes! You are!” Her voice had risen and a few other passengers turned to look at them.
She sat back in her seat, hands clenched on her thighs, staring straight ahead a scowl on her face. He could feel her anger and frustration, and the helpless sensation of being trapped. It gathered around her like a dark cloud.
“Listen to me, please.”
She turned her head a fraction of an inch, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
“I don’t want to control ye. I know ye can make your own decisions. I’m not Charlie. You’re in danger and I’m looking out for ye.”
She looked down, then gradually her hands relaxed. He watched the turmoil on her face and wished there was a way he could lessen it. But this was something she had to deal with on her own. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t fix it for her.
“I know you’re not Charlie. And I know why you’re telling me I can’t go with you.” When she looked at him, some of the anger had left her face. “But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt to be told what to do.”