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Calum’s hips picked up speed until he found a punishing rhythm. Fern lost herself in his movements, surrendering herself completely and delighting in the loss of control.
She whimpered and Calum continued to hold her down, fucking her mercilessly as his movements became more and more erratic. He overloaded her senses as he worked her body over until she was putty in his hands.
Fern’s whole body seized up, and Calum quickened his fingers against her. She let loose with a shuddering cry, her orgasm flooding her senses until she went limp in Calum’s arms. The feeling of her release gripped him like a vice, and Calum came with a shout, grabbing onto the pew for support.
He gently maneuvered them to the floor, their bodies damp with sweat and their heaving breaths echoing in the hallowed space. Neither of them moved for several minutes.
Fern pulled away from Calum, but he grunted in response, wrapping his arm tighter around her.
“No,” he muttered, “you’re not getting away from me now.” Calum could almost sense Fern’s thoughts. She sighed and laid her head on his chest.
“We need to talk about…”
“No, we don’t.”
“Calum,” Fern’s voice was sharper as she picked up her head, “we have to…”
“Stop.” It was not a request. Fern knew this was the prince speaking again. “I can see you overthinking this. Don’t talk.”
“But what about…”
“Did I not fuck you hard enough?”
“Calum!” Fern blushed.
“What?” He peeked an eye open and winked at her. “Are you going to get shy now? Clearly, I didn’t, if you want to talk at this very moment.” His tone was suddenly more playful, and it made something in Fern’s chest feel warm.
“I’m sorry,” she giggled, lying back down on top of him. “I believe you promised to carry me out to the car, though.”
“All in good time.”
Fern said nothing for a few minutes, tracing patterns on Calum’s chest until she realized how quiet it was. “The storm stopped.”
“Aye,” Calum noted without opening his eyes, “it has.”
She had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the weather.
Chapter Sixteen
Calum watched as Fern dozed, unable to keep himself from touching her. He ran his hands over her back, down her arms, through her hair. Anything to ground himself in the present moment.
That just happened.
It had been decades since Calum lost control like that. He knew that he’d react to being in Dunino’s Den, but he couldn’t expect what it would do to him seeing Fern there too.
Because she’s your mate, and you still need to have that conversation.
Calum grimaced, trying to push the nagging thought away. He watched as Fern slept across his chest. A deep-seated sense of satisfaction took up space in his chest at the sight of her sated and covered in his scent.
Fae mates weren’t a guarantee, but they weren’t exceedingly rare either. It either happened or it didn’t. Over the years, he’d been warned about the possessiveness that might consume him if he found a mate, but nothing had prepared him for the day Fern walked into his office.
It had nearly killed him when she rejected him. Calum didn’t blame her; he only blamed himself. Fern had been overwhelmed with too much information too quickly, and he’d asked for her help on top of it. He couldn’t find it in him to regret kissing her. She was his mate, but he knew the timing had been poor.
The past few weeks had been some of the most tumultuous in his long life, even considering the events after the Battle of Culloden. Calum already chastised himself for being a failed leader, and that loneliness had been building in his bones for centuries.
When Fern walked away from him and Scotland’s magic at the beginning of the semester, he nearly retreated into himself entirely. It was only his commitment to his people and supporting Fern that kept him going.
Emmett and Mara threatened to tell Fern more than once; it was the closest that Calum had ever come to fighting his closest companions.
