“You want me blonde,” she pointed out.
He did. He missed her golden hair. The mahogany was beautiful but he fell in love with a blonde.
“With time, I’ll get used to it,” he muttered.
“How much time, a century? Three?” she asked, still disgruntled.
“Maybe four,” he answered while fighting his grin.
She glared at him then her glare melted as her body melted into his and she whispered like she still couldn’t wrap her mind around it but it made her blissfully happy all the same, “Maybe four. I have four centuries with you and more.”
His arms circled her. “Yes, my little one, four centuries and more,” his arms gave her a squeeze, “and about the time we hit four, we’ll be ready to start a family.”
Her eyes flashed, the brown spiking out to obliterate the green.
Perfect. She was getting angry.
That meant a tussle.
Which meant that tussle would end phenomenally.
His arms got tighter.
Suddenly, the brown receded and her hand slid up to curl around the side of his neck.
“You brought me home for our honeymoon,” she said quietly and Callum felt his brows draw together.
“Sorry, baby doll?”
She vaguely threw out a hand. “This has always been home to me,” she explained. “My parent’s cabin, our cabin. Where I brought you when I first met you even though I didn’t know it was you. The only home, until you gave me the castle, that I ever knew. And you brought me here for our honeymoon.” She bent even closer, brushed her mouth to his and whispered against his lips. “Perfect.”
It was.
She was.
Everything was.
Apparently, they weren’t going to tussle, they were going to do something else and Callum found he was fine with that.
He was again wrong.
“Can we run?” she asked, her thumb sweeping the thick stubble on his jaw.
He stared into her eyes. She was a fast learner, becoming quite adept at controlling her transformations. She loved the wood, nature, she loved running with him and they did it every night and some days besides, three weeks of it at their cabin.
An idea struck him.
No, a memory.
No, a dream.
And this made his look turn wolfish as his lips whispered, “Absolutely, little one. We can absolutely run.”
* * * * *
He was lone wolf no more.
They were running, roaming, as wolves, he and Sonia.
She was fast and kept up with him, close to his right flank, where she always ran.
Callum took them deeper into the trees. They’d been running for hours. He could hear her pants. He knew he was pushing her. He knew what she wanted.
He kept pushing her, knowing the anticipation would be worth it.
Finally, he turned, headed for home and he sensed her instant excitement.
He felt it too.
* * * * *
Sonia was beneath him, on her belly, her long, thick, mahogany hair spread across her back, obscuring her face, tangled with pine needles. Her sweet, musky wolf scent assaulted him, coming from her hair, her skin, between her legs.
There was something familiar about it. Something beautiful. Something nostalgic. Something he fucking adored.
His human Sonia.
He was up on his hands, giving his hips leverage to thrust into her wetness with savage brutality.
Her moans weren’t filled with pain but each one a temptation to take her harder.
So he did.
“Spread your legs wider,” he ordered.
She did as she was told.
“Tilt your ass, take all of me,” he commanded.
Again, she did as she was told and he drove inside her then ground his hips between her spread-eagled legs and her moan was so deep, he could feel it vibrating against the tip of his cock.
That felt so fucking good, Callum ground into her deeper and he knew he couldn’t take much more.
“Let go,” he demanded but she defied him, clenching her sex around his shaft in an effort to hold off her climax. He shifted his weight to one arm and twisted her dark hair around his fist, yanking it back, arching her neck and driving her further down on his cock. “Let go, wolf.”
He got off on calling her “wolf” as Sonia did with him, especially when he was fucking her.
He fucking loved it.
She did too.
Her legs spread even wider. Her ass tilted further. He dropped his head and saw its perfection. Not an ass marred with pinpricks and he felt a feeling of triumph so complete, the sight set him thrusting into her again.
Which was what she wanted.
“Harder, Cal,” she breathed her demand, her voice barely a whisper, even he could hardly make out the words. “Fuck me harder.”
He was losing control, his orgasm was coming and he knew it would be staggering.
With her, it always was.
The best he’d ever had.
“Goddamn it, let go!” he roared the instant her sex convulsed around his cock.