Wild and Free(187)

He knew what she saw and he knew it was bleak.

“Please, Regan, leave,” he asked quietly.

His mother’s face softened, she nodded and silently she and Gregor left, closing the door behind them.

Callum turned his chair and aimed his unseeing gaze out the windows.

He needed to run, needed it.

But he’d do it later when she was sleeping. He wasn’t missing another fucking second of her life.

He stood and rounded his desk, his thoughts not on the variety of things he had to do that day. They were on finding his queen.

But he stopped suddenly and stared at a heavy glass paperweight Sonia had purchased in town and brought in his study to use to hold papers down on his desk.

He picked it up and studied it, never really having seen it before.

The glass was clear with tawny swirls in its depths, the feel of it was cool and heavy in his hand.

It was actually quite extraordinary.

In a flash, he turned and hurled it across the room and, with the force of his wolf’s throw, it turned to dust the minute it struck the stone wall.

He stared at the debris thinking that didn’t make his chest any less tight either.

Then he went in search of his wife.

* * * * *

That night it was Sonia’s idea to go out with him while he ran.

And, to be with her, Callum agreed.

As a human, she couldn’t run but even though it was night, as she always did when they were in the wood, she seemed at peace with her surroundings and the creatures in it were at peace with her there.

She wandered contentedly while he ran, coming back to circle her. To catch her eyes on him in tender awe. To move by her side for long minutes while she walked through the snow, her hand often coming to the fur on his head or his body and sliding through it lovingly.

Then he’d roam again and come back to her. And while roaming, he decided they’d do this every time he needed to run.

Eventually, he guided her home and, once she opened the backdoor and stepped inside, he crouched low and leaped, changed to man by the time his feet hit the floor.

When he straightened and turned to her, she was gazing up at him with shining eyes. She’d seen him change to wolf now three times. The first being when she was injured, the second before they’d gone out and the last just now.

Still gazing up at him, she breathed in wonder, “That is so cool.”

Callum smiled at the same time he pulled her in his arms.

Then he kissed her.

Then he lifted her and walked naked through the house, carrying her to their room, where he placed her in bed and he took her.

He wanted to go slow, take some of the little time he had with her to memorize her skin, her smell, her touch, the taste of her, the sounds she made. But Sonia was in the mood to play rough. The more Callum tried to be tender, the more demanding and hungry Sonia became.

So he gave her what she wanted.

After, Sonia lay with her head on his shoulder, her fingers sifting lazily through the hair on his chest.

He loved it when she did that.

“You okay, little one?” he asked.

He’d taken her hard and he wanted to make certain he hadn’t hurt her. His voice was still gruff from his orgasm but also the memory of their time outside and the agonizing memories of his morning that were somehow, with Sonia close, less agonizing.

“Mm,” she murmured contentedly, her fingers tensing to drag her nails along his chest and her legs shifted against his, tangling with them, her body pressing closer, entwining with his.

Callum smiled.

She was okay.

She did this now, entwining her body with his, getting closer. She did it all the time and Callum loved it when she did even though it was exquisite torture for, underlying it, he always knew he’d not share nearly enough of these moments with her.

“Cal,” she called, her voice sounding like she sensed the turn of his thoughts.

“Yes, baby doll?”

Her hand flattened against his chest as if his skin could absorb it.

Or she could absorb something integral from his skin, something she needed, something she couldn’t exist without.

And something hit him about this gesture, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but Sonia spoke before he could call it to mind.

Then she whispered, “You know I love you, right?”

He closed his eyes at her words, remembering the dream.

They were living part of his dream.

He and Sonia said that now, “You know I love you?” It had become their way.

He hadn’t recognized it as being from the dream before.

Now he did.





His arm about her tightened and his other hand came across his chest to slide into the soft, golden hair at the side of her head. It was thick and gleamed in the firelight and, studying it, he knew his next thoughts but he had them anyway.

How could he ever not have fancied blondes?