Refusing to consider what she might think in the morning, I reveled in the sensation of us. That night she was mine to cherish, while the rest of my life I’d always be hers. I could’ve still resisted. Slowly doled out the depth of my love to her afterward. Giving myself to her in pieces while she decided if she wanted the rest.
Then she touched my soul with the essence of her own, leaving part of herself within me. It felt like vows without words. I knew how deeply she cared for me. Valued me. That her capacity to love was limitless. When she called me her wolf, she truly claimed me, unafraid of all that meant. At that moment, the small pieces of her weren’t enough. Afraid that I would somehow lose them, I asked her to bite me, to taste my blood and finish the bond, so that she would forever be tied to me as I was to her.
The next morning, how truly selfish I was became painfully apparent. There’s a reason that a mating bond is a choice. The person and wolf must be of one mind, but it’s still a ritual that requires you to both offer yourself and accept your mate. By taking your mate into yourself, not only does it magically bind you, it speaks to the secrets you can no longer hide. Your mate is one with you as you are with them.
That morning I felt her panic. Her unease in my presence and her conflicting emotions every time she looked at me. Her heart pounded so loudly I could hear it, and she jumped every time I touched her. She cared about me, but that didn’t mean she loved me the way I loved her. As mates do. Ever since, I’ve gone back to my plan of going slow, returning to what she found comfortable, and seeing where that might eventually lead.
What I hadn’t anticipated was the depths of which she felt everything. With her joyous laugh and teasing sighs, I don’t think any of us fully appreciated how intensely she experiences the world around her. The moments she goes quiet are her attempts to place those emotions behind armored doors so she can keep moving forward. Many of them are dark and painful, but not all. Profound attraction is something else she’s been struggling with…and not just for me.
Ay,dios mio. Careful what you ask for, pendejo. Your dumb ass might just get it.
I jolt when Nolan touches my shoulder, only highlighting what a fucking mess I am. No one sneaks up on me, and he did it on accident. I’m glad I didn’t deck him on reflex.
He frowns at me, murmuring, “You sure you’re okay? No one would blame you if you wanted to go back to your wolf. I know shit is hard being gone for the first time. Even furry, you’d still be there for Callie.”
“Chemical smell,” I counter with a headshake, choosing an easier explanation than what’s really going on. Despite no one having entered the house for at least a couple months, everything is immaculate.
“The bleach smell is pretty fucking strong,” Nolan mutters, adjusting the stack of flat boxes in his arms to be closer to his nose. “You’d think the Bastard owned stock in Clorox.”
I grunt a half-hearted agreement and move to the side to let everyone else through.
Though my feelings are far more complicated than simply being away, he’s not wrong that part of me viscerally fears not being able to return to pack lands within the twenty-four hours since I left it. I’m not worried about Sam or the pack. My anxiety comes from the special rules the previous Alpha created just for me. Now that I’m the Alpha, they no longer apply, but I can still feel time the same way normal people can feel the sun. The minutes spreading along my skin with the haunting reminder that being late meant I lost everything. Turning into a lone wolf that the pack would hunt down like their next meal.
“Fuck this place,” Donovan growls with his hands full of boxes, purposely walking over the white carpet with dirt-ridden black boots. “Come on, Angel. Show us where the shit we need to pack is so we can get the hell out of this place.”
Kaleb gives Donovan a hard look. The one he throws around when D’s bluntness is considered inappropriate. In other words, the one he wears most of the time when he isn’t staring at the ceiling. It beats the intense one he’s been aiming at Callie since we got on the plane. The one waiting for her to fall apart. As much as I wish he was worrying over nothing, he’s not wrong to watch for the signs.
The fact that instead of griping at Donovan over the not so endearing nickname, she mutely nods her head and leads the way down the hall to our left, only hints at what bubbles beneath the surface. I fight back a sneeze, holding the disassembled boxes under one arm so I can rub my nose with my free hand. The others can already sense that Callie has a tenuous hold on her emotions, they don’t need to know that with Callie’s tumultuous feelings her magic comes to protect her. There’s no howling winds to warn us, just the buzzing along her skin that seems to snake into the pendant around her neck.
We go down a short hall with a circular staircase at the end and locked doors line the walls.
Mildred shifts the bag filled with packing supplies to one arm so that she can dig through her purse. “He had a different set of keys made for his office. I know I have them here somewhere.”
With a blank expression, Callie approaches the door left of the staircase. She hovers her free hand over the doorknob, her other hand holding a tape for the boxes, then promptly blows the whole mechanism into the next room.
The others jump, but I’m not surprised. I can smell her magic swirling around her and feel the intense emotions she’s trying to hold back. Myreinais a warrior. Her current battleground is inside herself, while outside she goes through the motions to complete our task.
“Nice,” Donovan hums, approving of the destruction. Kaleb’s worry intensifies, and Nolan is so pale he’s starting to match the walls.
Mildred moves to stand beside Callie, running a soothing hand down her hair. Gently pushing the door open, she walks into the room first, murmuring, “Certainly efficient.”
Unlike the others who watch Callie like a ticking bomb as they slip past her into the room, Felix gives her a teasing smile and whispers in her ear, “You’re getting better. The door is still standing.”
She looks up at him with a small smirk pulling at her lips. A hint of humor that’s like a golden thread through the raging, dark storms. I try not to be jealous as her eyes speak in a hidden language with Felix, communicating memories that only he has seen. I may know what she’s feeling, but only he fully understands why.
The room is lined with books and occult looking artifacts centered around a thick, dark wood desk that looks at least a few centuries old. There are open archways that lead into more rooms with even more books. I don’t know how much is about real supernatural magic and what is human dabbling, but either way, it’s going to be a bitch to find what we’re really looking for.
Mildred looks around the room with pinched lips and a hard expression. “Right,” she states into the open room. “I don’t want to bother sorting for today. Just get it all boxed up and into the moving truck.” She flashes a worried look in Callie’s direction, who’s staring at a framed photo on the desk. “We can decide what is useful and what is rubbish when we’re home.”
“Works for me,” Donovan agrees, dropping his load of boxes in the middle of the room. “Let’s get this shit and get out of here.”
“Yes, well, go start in the other room, if you please,” Mildred directs with a gesture toward the library, then rubs the bridge of her nose.
“I’ll go with him,” Nolan volunteers, retrieving a tape dispenser from Mildred, and awkwardly holding it along with a stack of boxes. He then eyeballs Kaleb, motioning with his head for him to come too. Probably because between the three of them, they can read and understand nine different languages. Useful in searching for the books we need to save Felix.
Kaleb glances at Callie, clearly wanting to stay with her. He sighs, then turns to follow them into the library, glaring at Donovan’s back. It seems their time away from us hasn’t improved their relationship.
Felix stays close to Callie’s side, not really having much else to do. There’s a disquieted look on his face as he takes in the room.
