With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(25)
Author: Kristen Ashley

He’d told her some of it but she couldn’t possibly understand his mind was on a plot hatched to abduct her, debase her and maybe even murder her. A plot which meant his people were at war, people he was responsible for and a war he had to win.

He’d had her a day.

Only a day.

For over well over three hundred years, he knew he’d find his mate and be bound to her. He’d always hoped she wouldn’t be his queen which would mean his father’s death but, like every wolf, he anticipated with great relish finding his mate.

Now he had her not even twenty-four hours and he’d f**ked it up with her.

Ryon had warned him, even so far as pleaded with him, that he needed to be gentle and tolerant with Sonia.

It wasn’t simply that Callum didn’t have time for this ridiculousness (which he didn’t). Callum didn’t date. He didn’t court. He seized. Even if his mate wasn’t under threat and his people weren’t at war, he had little patience for courting and furthermore didn’t like it.

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 f**king 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 h*ps 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 f**ked 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.”