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“There is that. But he’s going to be extremely dangerous, with grief driving him. I know something about that, after Stefano. . . .” She trailed off in apology, but Nick shook his head.
“You can always talk about him. You can say anything to me, and I’ll always be behind you.”
“In some ways, I understand where Ivan is coming from. Carter was evil and he hurt many. He deserved what he got. But as a mate, I get Ivan’s grief. I didn’t go after Stefano’s killers—Tarron did—but sometimes I think if I had it to do over again, I would make a different choice.” She let out a sigh.
“What would you do, sweetheart?” he questioned softly, taking her hand.
After a pause, Calla took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and said, “I wouldn’t rest until I found the hunters who kidnapped and starved my mate to death. I would follow every lead to the ends of the earth until I skewered the bastards and roasted them on a spit.” She looked down at their joined hands.
“Why didn’t you?” Nick searched her face and hated the pain he saw reflected there.
“Because I was numb. I couldn’t even breathe, much less mount a manhunt. I relied on my brother to exact justice, and he did.”
“There’s no shame in that, baby.”
“I know. But you asked.” Her lips curved into a smile and the shadows left. “You know what I would never change? Meeting you.”
They finished their meal, chatting companionably. When they were done, he wiped his lips with a napkin and said, “We’ll leave the dishes. I’ve got someone coming to clean up and return the dishes to the restaurant tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she said. “This was wonderful.”
“Oh, the evening isn’t over yet.” Her smile was worth all the effort of preparation. “Want me to start a fire? It’ll get a bit cool tonight.”
“Sounds lovely.”
Pushing from the table, he took care of that without any trouble. In minutes, a fire was blazing cheerfully in the hearth. Calla had taken a place on the sofa, and kicked off her high-heeled shoes. Settling next to her, Nick took off his jacket and ditched his shoes as well. Then he tucked her into his side and they simply sat for a while, holding each other and enjoying the closeness.
Reaching up, he stroked her dark tresses, running his hand down the length of it. She felt so warm against him, so right. His blood quickened. She shifted a bit so she could look at him, and started to say something. He beat her to it.
“I need you so much,” he rasped.
“You have me.”
The desire on her beautiful face matched the fire inside him. He brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her slowly at first. Then more hungrily, sending the flames between them leaping. He kissed her deeply, savoring her, as she entwined her fingers in his hair.
Calla sucked in a sharp breath as his attentions traveled downward to the curve of her neck. He liked her reaction. All afternoon he’d been waiting for this. Any lingering fear about allowing her to sink those sharp little fangs into his throat was gone. This was Calla, and she’d never hurt him.
There was no point in denying it any longer—he belonged to her, body and soul. He was ready to be claimed. Her hand snaked upward. Before he realized what she’d done, his shirt was halfway unbuttoned and she was gently caressing his chest. It wasn’t enough.
“Take my shirt off.”
She didn’t need any further encouragement. She helped him tug off the offending garment and sent it flying across the coffee table with a smug smile. His heart hammered as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his neck, downward to the hollow of his throat, then lower still, across his chest. When her tongue flicked seductively across his nipple, he groaned and felt himself harden.
“Calla, yes.”
Emboldened, she explored the scars from various battles that decorated his torso and stomach. There weren’t many, due to his shifter healing, but she spread butterfly kisses across each one, as if by doing so she could erase the pain they’d caused him.
“Hang on a second.” Spying drapes that would cover the large glass windows, he got up and closed them gladly. He didn’t really want to move from their spot, and now they could have privacy.
When he rejoined her, his hand came around to the back of her dress and deftly unzipped it. He watched, spellbound, as she stood and let it fall in a heap at her feet. The undergarments she wore were nothing more than tiny, filmy black scraps. The curve of her breasts swelled generously over the top of her bra. His eyes traveled the length of her, taking in her trim waist. Her long legs, which were well toned and shapely.
Calla knelt before him. He cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs across the silky material until the hardened peaks tightened. Then his fingers found the clasp nestled in the center, and he freed her. She looked at him with naked desire, so powerful it nearly made him lose control right then.
“Tell me you’ll claim me,” he said hoarsely. “Because I want this, baby. For real.”
She looked deep into his eyes. “Only if you mean it. If you’re really ready.”
“I am.”
