Chapter 5
Connor
Extracting Callie from the passenger side of my Chevy Tahoe, I hoist her up into my arms and carry her bridal style toward a small trail that leads deeper into the woods. The waning sun paints the tips of the evergreens with fiery oranges, while the trail is left in deep purple shadows. Because I’m a shifter, I’m able to see the familiar path clearly, but I still choose my steps carefully, used to taking this way on four legs instead of two.
She wraps her arms around my neck, leans her head against my shoulder, and sighs. “I can’t believe you blindfolded me. We’re celebrating your birthday. Why am I the one getting the surprise?”
“Because it’s what I want,” I answer simply.
The truth is this trail is very close to where Callie killed the previous alpha. That night, I was trying to take her to this very spot, hoping the forest would soothe her the same way it soothes me. Obviously, we never got that far, and I don’t want to ruin what is essentially our first date with memories of a man better left dead and forgotten.
When we reach our destination, I scan the area, trying to decide where best to see the clearing in its entirety. Sprouts of wild grass and flowers carpet the area, filling the air with the sweetness of new life. A trickling ravine cuts through one side, feeding a pond deep enough to swim in before twisting its way farther into the woods. Smooth rocks large enough to lounge on surround the pond, and long stalks of greenery grow in the rich earth. I found this place after my first beating, when I tried to run away to find my mother, and it’s been my safe haven ever since. Some of it is natural formation, and some of it I cultivated through the years, but it has always been mine alone. I’ve never shared it with another living soul, until now.
Callie’s fine brows furrow, and the corners of her full lips pull down in the corners. “You’re nervous. What’s wrong?”
“This place is special,” I murmur while reluctantly setting her down onto her feet. Bracing her so she doesn’t fall over, I spin her so her back is against my front, and she’s facing the ravine. “You can take the blindfold off.”
Instead, she takes my hands from her shoulders and leads them down her sides before sliding them under her sweater to rest on her stomach. All thoughts drain out of my head as I’m distracted by the feeling of her soft skin under my fingertips. Heat thrums through my veins, and my desire for her is instant and potent.
“Feel better?” she asks, feminine amusement lacing her husky voice.
A distracted hum vibrates from my throat, something between a question and affirmation, while my fingers spread wide to cover more surface space. My thumbs lightly brush over her ribs, and she shivers in response.
Focused on the feel of my mate in my hands, I almost miss her taking off the blindfold, coming back to my senses only when she gasps in delight. “It’s beautiful!” She tips her head back, a radiant smile taking over her features. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
The “this” she’s referencing is a picnic in the meadow a few feet from the ravine. A large, thick, checkered blanket is spread out with a basket overflowing with food and supplies sitting on one corner. When the women in the pack found out I was planning a special night for my mate, they were overly helpful in the preparation. In another corner are tightly rolled blankets in case it gets too cold and a bouquet of wildflowers tied together with twine. In the center is an older lantern that takes a match to light. At the time, I thought it safer than candles, but now, I worry that it looks more practical than romantic.
“You like it?” I ask, equal parts hope and anxiety twisting in my gut. This is something I’ve never done before—my relationship with Sam was more secret stolen moments hidden behind a casual friendship veneer—but I promised to woo Callie the night she fully claimed me as hers, and I wanted to honor that tonight.
“I love it.” She beams, turning around to face me, my hands sliding to the base of her spine. Pressing up on the tips of her toes, she wraps her arms around my neck and places a kiss on the underside of my jaw. “It’s perfect.”
Bending forward, I capture her lips, unable to resist my desire to taste her. There’s a constant want for her within me, a simmering need to touch her, that can sometimes be overwhelming. Most of the time, it can be soothed by being close to her, breathing in her scent of pomegranates, white orchids, and the wild storms of her magic. Then there are times like now, where it burns in my blood, and my wolf howls in my ears to claim our mate—times when I catch the scent of the others on her skin. It’s not a wounded feeling, not one of jealousy or betrayal, more of an urge to replace their lingering marks. It’s the territorial side of me that insists she is mine to protect, cherish, honor, and submit to.
Mine, my wolf growls, fueling this growing fire, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue diving into her mouth to dance with hers. A low moan pours from her as her fingers twist into my loose, brown curls. She tastes of warm water and citrus, a newer flavor since coming under the care of Nolan’s grandmother—another sense I wish to overpower with my own. I want to provide completely for my mate, even down to the foods that flavor her tongue.
Remembering the food tucked away in the basket, I lift her up, wrapping her legs around my waist, and walk over to the blanket. Her kisses trail from my jaw to my neck, nipping and sucking on my skin in ways that are sure to leave marks of their own. The wave of possessiveness that flows from her into me pleases my wolf, a call and answer to my own. Sitting cross-legged, I settle her more comfortably on my lap and intentionally ignore the way her skirt rides up, tantalizing me with more of her golden skin. Before we play, I must care for my mate.
Gathering her loose hair into my fist, I give it a gentle tug to gain her attention. She pulls back far enough to look into my eyes, slivers of silver surrounding her wide pupils, and there’s a heat so raw within their depths that I nearly lose all reason, my want to submit to her every desire palpable. Our bond has always been extraordinary by the very nature of what mi reina is, but since that horrific night I used our connection to pull her spirit back into her body, it’s been beyond the flow of emotions. It’s as if a crucial part of my being now resides within her, and only through her nearness do I feel whole.
“Hungry?” I ask, the word coming out as a throaty growl instead of a proper question.
Her gaze burns even brighter, and my body throbs as I watch her slowly lick her lips. “I could eat.”
Unable to look away, I release her hair and blindly reach for a container within the basket, pulling out a Tupperware full of chocolate-covered strawberries—not exactly the sustenance I had planned.
“Dessert first. Sounds good to me,” she comments with a subtle purr in her voice, and the insinuation she’s not just talking about the strawberries is not lost on me.
Like the night our bond was first formed, I take the offered food and present it to her to eat from my fingers. The exchange fulfills my instinct to provide, but the way she looks at me as she takes a bite, the juices painting her lips, stokes a far more basic urge. She chews slowly, savoring the flavor on her tongue, before swallowing. I’m transfixed by her mouth, tracking the way she licks her lips again, and a knowing smile blooms across her face.
“Your turn,” she states, taking one of the strawberries and holding it to my lips. Before I can consider objecting, it’s as if she steals the thoughts from my mind and turns them against me. “It’s a mate’s right to provide.”
We are equals in all things, her expression insists, and a powerful pulse of both possessiveness and tenderness wrapped in pure love shoots from her into me. Over and over again, she claims me in the same ways I wish to claim her. I am hers to protect, cherish, honor, and submit to. Another shattered part of me is mended, her light dispelling more of the darkness.
I take the offered treat into my mouth, biting, chewing, and swallowing at the same savoring speed. This continues until there is no more, trading back and forth as we provide for the other. Callie seals the Tupperware, the container filled with the discarded greenery of strawberries, and places it to the side. Our fingers are sticky from the chocolate and sweet juices, and solely because I want to, I steal her hand and begin to suck them clean.
A breathless, “Oh,” escapes her as she watches, that building heat burning through our bond. Her pleasure and desire excite my wolf—the scent of her a beckoning call. I fight the instinct to cover her with my scent and focus solely on her slender, delicate fingers, careful not to graze them with my teeth.
Insistent in all things equal, she waits until I’m finished before doing the same to me, and a low groan rumbles within my chest as the wetness of her mouth surrounds my finger. She is not as careful, rolling her tongue around the digit and then letting her teeth scrape along my skin as she pulls it out to move onto the next one. The additional stimulation brings my wolf closer to the surface, my want of her a living thing begging to be released. By the time she’s done, I’m left panting and painfully hard.
“Mine,” she states teasingly, nipping the tip of my finger before releasing me.
“Yours,” I reply seriously, my hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips. My nose brushes against hers. “Always yours.”
“Mi lobo,” she murmurs like a prayer, her touch reverent as she cups my face. First, she presses her lips to my forehead, then to each cheek, and finally, like the brush of a feather, against my mouth. “I love you.”
“Te amo, mi reina,” I whisper, the words painfully precious because they are an offering of my battered heart. Words reserved only for her.
She kisses me again, slowly, thoroughly, and with the confidence of knowing exactly how she affects me. It’s a kiss that robs the air from my lungs and makes everything outside of her disappear. She is the center of my universe, and I feel dizzy as I orbit around her.
I groan when she unbuttons part of my flannel, just enough for her cool fingers to reach my feverish flesh. Her hands roam underneath my shirt, tracing the planes of my chest, over my shoulders, and then digging into my upper back, pulling me more securely against her. Suddenly, it feels like any amount of space is too much space between us. I wrap my arms around her, holding her like we can fuse our bodies together. She gasps into my mouth, but there’s no sign that it’s too much. Instead, she tightens her legs, her thighs squeezing me while the heels of her boots dig into the base of my spine.
Our kisses grow more frenzied, a play of teeth and tongues as we trade between domination and submission. Similar to the way my wolf presses beneath my skin because of my heightened emotions, Callie’s magic is drawn to us. It skates along my skin, a scorching heat that sets my nerve endings ablaze. It’s not painful as it seeps into me, but it does cause every part of me to feel more sensitive, the clothes on my body becoming overstimulating.
Breaking our kiss, I gulp for air and pant, “Need… a… minute.”
She blinks the dragging weight of lust from her eyes and nods. “Okay.”
My wolf howls when I have the audacity to maneuver her off my lap, offended that I would take my hands off my mate until she’s fully satisfied, but if I don’t do something, I’ll either embarrass myself or my self-control will slip the leash. Focusing solely on cooling off, I strip down and dive into the deeper side of the pond. It’s exactly what I need, the cold water providing a relieving contrast to my overheated flesh. Returning to the surface, I push my hair out of my eyes and swim to the edge. Callie has a dazed expression, and I wonder if maybe I wasn’t the only one that needed a moment.
“Are you okay?” I ask, resting my crossed forearms on one of the flat rocks.
“Yup, mm-hmm,” she chirps, adjusting herself so her legs are bent to the side, and she’s leaning on one hand. Her gaze darts to my face and then to the forest at large.
I search the bond and don’t find anything too alarming—a hint of nervousness, some curiosity, and the continued burn of arousal that is a siren’s call to my own. All the more reason I need to stay in the water.
She tugs at the cowled neck of her sweater, the air unseasonably warm and muggy with magic that tickles my nose. I sneeze. She laughs and shakes her head. It seems to unravel the nervousness within her, and she asks with humor, “Are you allergic to all magic or just mine?”
“Not allergic,” I insist, resting my chin on my forearms. “Closer to too much dust in the air.”
“So is it just my magic dust or all magic dust?” she reiterates, rolling up her sleeves and then unzipping her boots, her phone tumbling out. Placing them beside her, she takes off her socks, tucks them into a ball, and stuffs it and her phone into one of her boots.
“Yours is more concentrated,” I answer, distracted by the view of her bare legs.
Callie gets to her feet and carefully tiptoes toward me. “That makes sense considering where my magic comes from.” She settles on the rock beside me, dipping her feet into the water, and sighs happily. “That feels nice. I can understand why you like this place so much.”
A nod is my only acknowledgement, my thoughts more focused on how easy it would be to situate myself between her thighs, her legs bent over my shoulders, and… The cold water no longer seems to be helping.
She leans back on her hands, making slow, gentle kicks with her feet, as she tips her head toward the sky. “Look at all those stars. It’s like a painting.”
Tearing my eyes from my mate, I briefly follow her gaze. It’s a view that I’ve started taking for granted, usually too focused on whatever is broken within me to appreciate it. Now, I try to see it through her wonder—the indigo velvet base of the night sprinkled with the glittering paint of an innumerable amount of stars. It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t pull at me the way she does. This place used to be my solace, everything seemingly small compared to the vastness of nature, but since Callie walked into my life, it’s been her. Callie’s touch, nearness, smile, and very presence brings me peace in a way nothing has before.
Still looking up at the stars, she adjusts her balance to one hand and lets the other drift toward mine. We loosely intertwine our fingers, and the simple touch feels like coming home. The way she centers me reminds me of Sam’s warning. This is the gift of a mate, but also a burden. Shifters understand when they choose to have this bond, it’s at the risk of their own sanity. Losing them means losing a part of yourself, and Callie has more of me than any mate bond has ever gifted before. Mi reina has other connections to ground her and keep her whole, but it would be devastating if she died before me. My wolf growls over the mere thought of losing our mate, a sound of pure rage that any would dare take her from us, even death itself.
Callie flexes her fingers, tightening her grip. “Your thoughts seem heavy.”
Sam gave me until the end of the summer to tell Callie this particular part of the mate bond, but I can’t do it tonight—not on what is supposed to be our first real date. Instead, I kiss the back of her hand and reply, “Thinking about how much you mean to me.”
Her eyes have a glossy sheen as she looks down at me. “You mean so much to me too. I know our start was rocky and everything is… complicated at times, but I… I don’t want to ever imagine my life without you.”
A sharp pain reverberates through the bond, and I know she’s thinking about how long she’s expected to live. A witch’s lifespan is tied to the depth of their magic, and Callie is one of the, if not the, most powerful witches on the planet. Best estimate, she’ll live to be around a thousand years old. It’s an unfair comfort to me, because it means if I do my job right, I’ll never have to live a day without her.
Releasing her hand, I cut through the water until I’m in front of her. She parts her knees, allowing me closer, and with my hands braced on the rock on either side of her, I hoist myself up so we’re eye level. “That’s hundreds of years away.” I brush my nose against hers, our lips a breath apart. “Be here with me tonight.”
She nods, her hands pressed against my damp chest, and kisses me. It’s soft and fleeting, but it’s followed by a sweet smile. “I have something for you.”
I watch curiously as she wiggles back to get something out of her front pocket, muttering her irritation over girl pockets. Her knees press into my hips hard, and her feet graze my bare thighs, making me far more aware of my own nudity than I usually am. It’s a very good thing my hands are busy holding me up.
Finally, she wrestles out a small, leather, drawstring bag. “It’s, um, well… I hope you like it. If you don’t, lie to me.” She releases a nervous laugh and fidgets with the strings. “I’m not an artist like you are, but I wanted to make you something just from me.”
“Open it,” I request with a smile.
“You do realize you’re supposed to open your birthday presents,” she teases.
“My hands are busy.” I illustrate by shifting my weight slightly back and forth, and then my smile turns into a grin. “Could get out of the water.”
Her gaze flits to where the dark pond hides everything from the waist down and then back to my face, her cheeks turning pink. “I can do it.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, she loosens the drawstring and pulls out a long necklace. As she holds it out for me to look at, she explains, “Don’t worry, the chain is titanium.” Before I can say anything, she starts to babble. “I know I was making bracelets before, but I thought… well, when you shift, this should still fit. The wolf tooth in the center is made out of onyx, which is supposed to be for courage and strength. The amber beads are to help with balanced decision-making, but mostly I chose it because it matches your eyes. The smaller black obsidian beads are for protection.”
I dip my head, and with shaking hands, she puts it on me, the center pendant resting in the middle of my chest. It’s warm against my skin and hums with an energy that marks it as more than simple metal and stones. I meet her gaze, asking with my eyes what she isn’t telling me about this necklace.
“Donovan has a magic sword that will literally kill anything, okay?” She huffs, reaching up to run her fingers along the stones. “Your life is just as much in danger as his is, and I can’t be there all the time. I want you to have something that will protect you too.” Her gaze hardens stubbornly. “It’s a mate’s right to protect.”
Unable to argue, I ask, “What does it do?”
She brightens when I don’t object. “Best offense is a good defense, or something like that. I don’t do sports. Anyway, I infused it with raw magic that has the sole objective of protecting you against those who wish you ill intent. It should do everything from warn you when there is danger to, uh, making sure anyone who tries to hurt you thoroughly regrets it.”
Thousands of different scenarios sweep through my mind of how much damage magic as powerful as Callie’s could do when given such an expansive direction. Shocked, my arms grow weak, and I fall back into the water. “This is too much,” I insist, treading water. “I can’t lead with fear.”
The hurt in her eyes is a sharp slice to my heart. “Then don’t tell anyone what it does.” Her voice develops that unworldly quality, and her magic blankets the clearing, a buzzing sensation that rides over my skin. “You have suffered too many years under the hands of others. I won’t let it happen again.”
Desperate to bring her back to herself, I quickly grab her around her waist and pull her into the pond. She shrieks as she falls in, dipping under the cold water for a moment before I pull her back to the surface. Sputtering and blinking, she shouts, “What was that for?”
“It’s a thoughtful gift,” I tell her, wrapping one arm around her and dragging her toward the shallower edge where my feet can touch the ground, “but you were the one who warned me about unchecked magic. Such a broad command is dangerous.”
“When it comes to your life, there is no such thing as too much,” she states, but she looks more like an annoyed girlfriend than an avenging goddess. With another huff, she relents, “Fine, I’ll dial it back.” With one arm wrapped around my neck to hold her steady, she places her other hand over the beads of the necklace, pressing them into my chest. Her brows furrow when she closes her eyes, and a comforting heat skirts down my body as her magic flows over me. She sighs when she’s done. “Now it’s a glorified warning device. It’ll tell you when there’s danger, if someone is lying to you, or if they mean you ill will. At least this way, you should know who you can and can’t trust.”
“Thank you, reina,” I murmur, kissing her cheek.
“Don’t think I didn’t mean what I said,” she grumbles, bending back over my arm so she can dip her hair underwater. “Just because the necklace won’t do it for me now doesn’t mean I won’t make anyone who tries to hurt you thoroughly regret it.”
“Yes, reina,” I mumble, distracted by the way her chest crests the water, her sweater clinging to her breasts as the rest of it floats around her.
When she pulls herself up, her thick hair pushed from her face, she gives me a look that seems to say, Are you even paying attention?
No. No, I’m not.
Her eyes widen as awareness hits her, our skin brushing together beneath the cool depths of the natural pond. She’s pressed to one side of me, her legs sliding against mine as she floats, so she hasn’t felt my cock against her in the water. However, the knowledge that she could is in her gaze.
“You’re naked,” she blurts, her gaze purposely focused on my face.
“Yes,” I answer, an amused smirk tugging at my lips.
“I mean… I noticed earlier, because, ya know, hard not to,” she stammers, a blush spilling across her cheeks. “But then you were in the water, and I was sitting on the rock, so it didn’t matter as much. Now, I’m also in the water, and you’re still very naked.”
The abundance of nervousness coming through the bond makes it difficult to determine if it’s due to general inexperience or genuine discomfort. “Does it bother you?”
She shakes her head, swishing the fronds of her hair floating on the water. “No, naked is very, uh, natural, and it isn’t like we brought swimsuits, which, by the way, a jean skirt and sweater is not the best for water activities.”
My grip around her waist tightens as my mind conjures all the water activities we could get up to now that we’re finally fully alone. Pack lands filled with super wolf hearing leaves little privacy, especially now that my mother is one of its residents.
“Is it suddenly warm in here?” Callie chirps, her gaze flitting around the pond.
My smirk grows to a full smile, because my mate’s magic has given her away. The water is now the temperature of a bath, the heat building within her expressing itself out in the elements. It’s one of the things I’ve grown to enjoy about her. Sometimes her magic can be destructive with her emotions, but other times, like now, it’s a comforting tell on top of what I can sense through the bond.
“I’m yours,” I remind her, cupping the side of her face with my free hand. “For whatever you’re ready for.”
She glances down, even though it’s too dark for her to see anything, and then back up. “Right. You see, I haven’t… uh… touched, well, directly before. I mean, obviously, I’ve felt it when making out, but I haven’t, um…” Embarrassment filters through the bond. “What if I do it wrong?”
The mere thought of her hand around my cock takes me from partially to fully hard. My voice turns rough as I ask, “Do you want to touch me?”
“Yes? I mean, I do… I think… but I really don’t know what I’m doing, and what if it’s bad?” She nervously fidgets with my necklace, running the beads between her fingers. “I want you to feel good, but I’m also worried if it’s too much too fast, and what if I start and change my mind? That isn’t really fair to you.”
Trying to follow her whirlwind of concerns, I start at the top. “First for me too.” My hand slides from her face to rest on her chest. “Listen to the bond. What does it tell you?”
Her blush deepens. “You’re, uh, excited.”
“Every time you touch me in any way… me siento vivo por primera vez, pero yo me siento bien cuando tú te sientes bien.” I swallow heavily. “If you aren’t ready, don’t do it to please me.”
Her brows pull together as she tries to translate. “I didn’t get the first part, but the second bit sounded something like you’re good when I’m good.”
“You make me feel alive,” I explain, smoothing my thumb over her furrowed brow. “You are a gift, mi reina.” My hand extracts hers from the necklace, and I place it over my heart where she can feel how it pounds for only her. “To be able to touch you, hold you in my arms, and kiss you… It’s more than I dared hope for.”
She leans her face into my neck, her words muffled against my skin. “Sometimes I feel confident, like with kissing. I think I’m pretty good at that now.”
Humming my agreement, I try to stay focused on what she’s saying and not the feel of her lips on my neck or the memory of her tongue in my mouth.
“But then we get to, you know, other stuff, and I freeze up,” she complains with a groan. “It seems so much easier in books.”
I don’t comment, letting my curiosity float through our bond to ask for more information.
“Mei lent me books for ‘research,’” Callie explains, her head rocking side to side. “Did you know there’s a whole genre of fiction dedicated to multi-partner relationships?”
This time, I make a hum in the negative. My idea of reading is limited mostly to car manuals, but I wonder if I should try to read one of these books, if only to see how the concept works, even if it’s only in fiction. The idea of so many words is unpleasant, and I wish I could pass it off to Kaleb. Maybe Felix would read them.
“You know, one of the things I love about you is how chatty you are.” She laughs, pulling back so she can look at me.
I shrug, another smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
She smiles before her expression softens. “You make me want to be brave.” Releasing a careful breath, she adds softly, “Show me how.”
At first, I think she means to show her how to be brave, which, considering she is one of the bravest people I know, seems like an odd request. I’m about to tell her as much when her free hand slips from mine and dips under the water, her fingers grazing my lower abdomen. Oh.
Walking us to the shallowest part of the pond, I set her on her feet. The water laps low around my hips while two-thirds of her is still below the surface. Cradling her face between my hands, I lean down and kiss her slowly, enjoying the play of her lips against mine. She relaxes as familiar, happy purrs of contented pleasure emanate from her throat. Automatically, she reaches for my waist to pull me closer.
As our kiss deepens, and her desire unfurls like a vine of moonflowers, snaking around me as it blooms. I nurture it, stroking the part of her that lives within me with invisible fingers. She moans a soft, sweet sound, and it makes me burn for her—not a bonfire, but a comforting warmth after a life living in the cold.
“Claim me,” I murmur against her lips. “Explore what is and will be forever yours.”
“I thought you were supposed to show me,” she mumbles between kisses.
My hands slide down the long column of her throat as my mouth trails along her jaw to the shell of her ear. “I will tell you what I like.”
A shuddering breath escapes her as the magnitude of what I offered settles over her. I won’t lead her hand where it may not be ready to go. Instead, I give her what is often most difficult for me—my words.
Tentatively, one of her hands falls from my hip, her fingers trailing down until they brush the base of my cock. I stand perfectly still, letting her set the pace, and I’m rewarded with a stroke from root to tip. It’s the first time anyone besides myself has touched my dick, and my whole body shivers under the barest of contact.
“Does this feel good?” she asks, continuing to gently brush her fingers up and down.
“Yes,” I whisper, dropping my hands to her shoulders and my forehead to the top of her head. Depending on how long she keeps this up, this alone could be enough to do me in.
Sensing the truth in the single word, she grows bolder, wrapping her hand around me and continuing her careful strokes along my length. “How about now?”
My first instinct is to repeat myself, because again, she’s touching me and it feels amazing all by itself, but I also told her that I would share what I like. “Firmer grip. You won’t hurt me.” I groan when she does as instructed, but thanks to water being a terrible lubricant, friction quickly becomes an issue.
Noticing my discomfort, she asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Water isn’t very slick,” I answer in a breathless pant, conflicted because I don’t want her to stop.
It’s nearly comical the way I can sense her shift into problem-solving mode. Her hand stops moving, but it doesn’t release me either. “Saliva is used a lot in the books, but I don’t think that’ll work here. Plus, I don’t want to spit in my hand.” A choked sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh escapes me, and I’m about to tell her it’s fine, that the pleasure outweighs the pain, when she shyly asks, “How much do you trust me?”
“Completely,” I respond, standing up straighter so I can look down at her.
There’s an intrigued gleam in her gaze, an invitation to play with her. “Sit over there for me.”
I glance down at her hand and then back up with a raised brow.
“Whoops.” She quickly retracts her hand. There’s a flutter of embarrassment, but no longer a sense of nervousness.
Liking that she’s growing more comfortable with my body, I do as she requests, shifting myself out of the water to sit on one of the nearby flat rocks. For a moment, she seems to forget herself, her eyes round and her breath shallow as she stares at me. Leaning back on my hands, I let her look, relishing the thrum of her arousal through the bond. Her gaze is like caressing fingertips as it passes down my form, and I swallow a groan when she bites her bottom lip.
She wades closer, a siren who already owns my soul, and places her hands on my splayed knees. As her touch slides up my thighs, a heated tingling sensation pours from her palms, and the water dripping down my body now feels like warm oil.
“It’s massage oil,” she explains, illustrating by rubbing the substance into my skin. “It’s the first thing I could think of that I’ve experienced before.” A sheepish expression takes over her face as she looks at my dripping hair. “It was only supposed to be where my hands touched, but uh, trying to keep my magic small can still be tricky. You’ll probably want to shower when we get back.”
Leaning forward, I take a lock of her hair, and with amusement, I show it to her. I’m not the only one who will need a shower.
“Crap,” she mumbles, taking one hand from my thigh, turning, and swishing it into the water. When she lifts it up, it glistens with oil. “Double crap.”
“Is it the ravine too?” I ask, wondering if I should be concerned for the nearby wildlife.
“I really hope not,” she murmurs. Still standing between my knees, she tugs her oil heavy sweater off and flings it onto the rock beside me. Next is her skirt, and then before I can fully appreciate how she’s wearing one of her fancy bras that is now mostly see-through, she’s bouncing and paddling her way to a small waterfall that feeds from the ravine into the pond. “This is so much harder to move in, and I can touch the ground… mostly,” she complains, and then yelps when her hand touches the flowing liquid. “Nope, it’s water. Very, very cold water.”
Wanting to make sure massage oil isn’t being sent farther down into the forest, I get up and test the other side. It’s also cold water. “It’s only the pond,” I observe, flicking the water from my fingers.
“So much for romance,” Callie grumbles, making her way back to one of the flat rocks and hoisting herself out. “You show me this beautiful place, and I ruin it with my bright idea. Sure, let’s turn water into massage oil. That won’t backfire at all.” Standing with her hands on her hips, unaware of the erotic picture she creates, she frowns down at the pond. “Now, the question is how do I turn you back?”
Certain this isn’t the best time to indulge in all the fantasies that just sprung up that include my mate and a large pool of massage oil, I make my way back to our picnic, grabbing two of the small blankets rolled up in the corner. Wrapping one around my waist, I take the other over to her, holding it open so she can do the same.
“How did you do it?” I ask, nodding toward the glistening pool of liquid.
She glares down like it’s the pond’s fault it’s now massage oil. “I do what I normally do. Imagine what it feels like in my hands until it’s real.”
I run my hand down her slick hair in a soothing motion. “Shouldn’t it work in reverse?”
“Probably,” she murmurs, leaning into my side. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.”
“You didn’t,” I insist, kissing the top of her head. When I lick the oil from my lips, it has the faint flavor of strawberries. “It’s one of my best birthdays, because I got to spend it with you.”
She looks up at me, her fragile heart in her eyes. “Really?”
“Really,” I reply, sealing it with a gentle meeting of my lips to hers. Leaving her to turn the pond back to water, I release her and walk the few steps to gather her clothes off the ground.
“You know,” Callie muses behind me, “I already turned it into massage oil, so it’d be a shame to waste it.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask, turning to face her. All the air leaves my lungs, and I drop her clothes, when I see her standing with the blanket now pooled around her feet. She is wearing underwear, but it’s hard to remember when it’s white and stuck to her like a second skin.
She motions her head toward the dark pool and then looks up at me through her lashes. “The water is slick now.”
“You sure?” I choke out, positive that particular opportunity sailed when she realized her magic did more than she asked it to.
Bending down, she swishes her hand in the pond and smiles up at me over her shoulder. “Yup, I’m sure. Definitely slick now.”
Keeping my gaze on hers, which is full of heated promise, I unwrap the blanket from my waist and let it fall to the ground. She stands back up, wobbling a bit as I approach. I run a single finger down the length of her throat to the large, egg-shaped, pendant hanging between her breasts. She answers by placing her palm over the onyx wolf tooth hanging from my necklace. Both objects hum with her power. Mi reina is a marvel beyond words, and I am humbled beneath her strength.
“May I touch you?” I ask, my voice a low rumble.
Callie nods, a small dip of her chin, and murmurs a breathless, “Yes.”
I lead her back to the shallowest part of the pond and then step into the warm oil. It’s an odd sensation, the liquid resisting as I move and the ground somewhat more difficult to stand on. After stabilizing my stance, I reach up to grab her waist to help her in. Bracing her hands on my shoulders, she lets me lift her with ease, and her body slides down mine on her way back to her feet.
While looking into my eyes, she sweeps her hands from my shoulders, down my chest, and to my abs before moving lower, where my desire for her is unmistakable, pressing against her belly. With a delicate touch, she runs her fingers along my length, bolder than her first time. My breath hitches, but I stand still, letting her explore before I do some of my own.
Glancing down to see what she’s doing, she palms the underside of my cock, her fingers wrapping around me, and then she strokes up, the crown of my cock cresting the surface of the slick liquid.
“It’s softer than I thought it would be,” she observes, her firmer grip slipping back down.
This earns a grunt in response, my mind far more focused on her touch. It’s wondrous and maddening, the way her hand leisurely slips along my shaft. The tip of my cock is desperate for her attention, so I murmur, “Over the head too.”
She follows the instruction, going so far that I nearly slip out of her grasp, and then mutters, “Should probably use two hands.”
A deep groan vibrates within me as she fists both hands around my cock. The warm oil and tight hold has me seeing stars that have nothing to do with the sky above us. Unable to resist the pull of pleasure, my hips begin to rock with the pace she sets.
Most of our make-out sessions turn heated quickly, our desire a whirling cycle that feeds and heightens each other’s pleasure, but I don’t want to rush her as she takes the next step in our intimacy. Softly caressing her body, I glide my hands along her curves, moving from her waist, up her ribs, and to her shoulders, then down her chest. I take my time, my thumbs following the path of her white lace bra, stopping only once they reach the visible peaks of her nipples. I’m careful to keep my touch over the fabric, respecting that she left it on for a reason. Methodically, I brush over and around her nipples, watching as her brows knit together and her mouth makes a silent, “Oh.”
My mate leans into my touch, her back arching, as she tips her face up invitingly. In a breathy whisper, she pleads, “More.”
Everything inside me burns to please her. My hands move farther down to cup her breasts, lifting and molding them in my grasp, as I bend down to claim her mouth. She shudders and moans when I gently pinch her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, her grip tightening around my cock. Her pace grows clumsy, starting and stopping, as she becomes distracted. I don’t mind. The sensation of her touch, the scent of her arousal, and the feeling of her pleasure is enough to heighten my own.
Callie makes a throaty mewling noise of frustration before breaking away from me. I’m confused and worried until she unsnaps her bra and flings it onto the heap of her clothes. Her eyes glow in the waning light, under a crescent moon, and I see a hunger within them that makes me want to drop to my knees in worship. Reaching for my hand, she tugs me to follow and backs up against the edge of the pond.
“Lift me up,” she commands, and I do, grabbing her by the waist and placing her butt on the edge of one of the flat rocks. She reaches for me, pulling me between her splayed legs before wrapping them around my hips.
“Mierda,” I hiss as she flexes her legs, the shaft of my cock hard against the apex of her thighs. This is followed by a low groan as she reaches between us and starts stroking me again.
She tips her face toward the sky, her eyes drifting closed, and she is otherworldly in her beauty. The moonlight runs along the planes of her heart-shaped face and down the column of her long neck, highlighting the tantalizing curves of her golden body. She is glorious, and she is mine. Desperate to feel her under my hands, I massage the warm oil into her skin, following the lines from her hips and up her body to her exposed breasts. My lips seek hers, swallowing her moan as I tease her hardened nipples between my fingers.
Tension builds within my body, radiating from my groin and spreading out into my limbs. My knees start to feel weak as her grip tightens and her speed increases. She presses her left hand to my chest, over my heart, and I mimic the action, feeling her racing pulse beneath my palm. The beats begin to sync, along with our panting breaths, and it’s there, beneath the mounting pleasure, that I feel her in the bond… in me. It’s more than the washing tides of emotions between us. It’s active tuning, seeking, and experiencing that I’m feeling, taking in every sensation as her own.
I give her all of me—the joy of feeling her beneath my fingers, the bliss of being under her touch, and the resounding euphoria of experiencing my pleasure through her and hers through me. We are one, climbing together on this singular experience, a chorus of moans that reverberates within the quiet clearing. Mania catches hold, fueling frenzied kisses of lips and teeth. Unable to resist, I rock my hips into her rhythm, and hers mirror the motion. The sensation of her slick core—separated from me only by the thin fabric of her panties—rubbing along my shaft while her hand works the head of my cock brings me to the brink. I’m teetering on the edge when her mouth finds the crux of my shoulder, exactly where our bond was first sealed, and she bites down hard. Pleasure explodes throughout my body, a staggering release that has me gasping for air, and I spill into her hand.
Callie cries out, her body shivering and spasming, and she collapses against me. Struggling to breathe. “So that’s what it feels like.”
“Yes,” I reply, humor lacing the labored word.
“It’s similar, but different,” she muses, her forehead pressed to my chest. “Like a powerful echo. I could feel it as you felt it, but not in the same way, like when my spirit enters someone else’s body. It was like I was experiencing it with a phantom touch. I wonder if it’s because I don’t have the same equipment.”
My laugh comes out more as a choking cough, and I shake my head. To distract her from going further down that line of thought, I suggest, “Time to turn the pond back to water, yes? Easier to clean up in.”
Seeming to realize she’s no longer sticky from just the massage oil, she releases me and reaches down to swish her hand into the oily pond. The current substance does little to clean it, so she closes her eyes and, with a furrowed brow, turns it back to water—very cold water.
“Brr,” she mumbles, flicking the water from her fingers, and then looks down at herself and then to me. Her lips purse into a pout. “Of course it only affects the pond, and we’re still covered in massage oil.”
“I’ll keep you warm,” I say, picking her up from the rock before she can object, and then I immediately dunk us both under the water.
Clawing at me like a drowning cat, she shrieks when we break the surface. “You are full of lies. Cold. So cold.”
I splash and rub her skin, doing my best to clean her off. She complains but doesn’t move, huddled against my body. When I return her to the rock, she immediately climbs to her feet and runs for the blanket she left earlier. I go back under, running my hands through my hair and along my body, and then I follow her out.
“How are you not freezing?” she asks when I casually shake out my own blanket and wrap it around my hips.
Grinning, I answer, “Shifter.”
Rolling her eyes, she grumbles, “I should have known better.”
My grin softens as I watch her bend at the waist to wring the moisture out of her long, wavy hair. I feel a tightening ache in my chest as I observe her with wonder. Callie is devastating in her beauty, inside and out, and the thought that she is mine to love humbles me. I don’t deserve her, but I will fight with my every breath to become a man worthy of her.
With careful steps, I approach her and wait for her to finish.
When she stands, there’s a shy pull of her lips as she looks up at me. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I murmur, my hands skating down her arms which are covered in goosebumps.
Her magic has dissipated, and the air has a cool bite to it. Opening my arms, I silently invite her to share my body heat, and she accepts, taking the final step into my embrace. For several minutes, we stand silently and listen to the murmured chatter of the forest, and for just a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world. It’s on my tongue to thank her for loving me, for choosing me despite the shadowed horrors that plague me, but my mate would scoff at such a declaration—not in a dismissive way, but in the sense that there’s nothing to thank her for. To her, there’s no in spite of. To her, we are equal in our love and we share our demons.
With our hunger for each other sated for now, there’s a rumble in my stomach, reminding me that all we’ve had tonight is chocolate-covered strawberries. She giggles until an echoing demand sounds from her own belly.
“Dinner?” I suggest, kissing the top of her head.
“Good idea,” she agrees, not bothering to argue when I lift her up and carry her back to the picnic.
There’s a sweet sense of contentment that washes over me when I have her in my arms. I put her down long enough to light the lantern and bring the basket closer. When I notice the way she clutches the blanket tighter around her, I also grab my flannel and place it over her shoulders. She quickly stuffs her arms through the sleeves, and it’s big enough for her to button it over the blanket.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, pulling the sleeves back far enough for her hands to poke out. “I could probably use magic to dry my clothes. I know it’s possible, but I’ve also blinked clothes into other dimensions, and I like that outfit.”
“What’s mine is yours,” I reply, keeping to myself how much I enjoy her wearing my clothes, though I doubt it’s a secret by now.
“Remember you said that when I’ve run off with all of your flannel shirts,” she teases, laughter dancing in her eyes.
Before Callie can sit down, I have her in my arms again, settling us both down onto the blanket. Her sigh is amused as she positions herself more comfortably with her back against my chest, her legs draped over my crossed ones. She watches as I pull the rest of our dinner out of the basket, humming with interest at the selection. There are various cold dishes—steak salad, some type of vegetable medley with feta cheese, half a loaf of sliced French bread, and finger foods consisting mostly of fruit, cheese, and cold-cut meats. There are also two different thermoses, one with a rich, tomato soup and the other holding hot chocolate.
As I fill a plate of food for her, she snuggles into the soft fabric of my flannel, breathing in my scent as it mingles with hers. It pleases both me and my wolf to have our mate dressed in our scent and only our scent. It’s something I’ll need to work on, the need to dominate the others, but for now, it can be simple. She is my mate, and I get the honor of caring for her, so that’s exactly what I do. I relish every bite of food she takes, every kiss she steals, and every happy hum of contentment she makes, because she is mine, and I am hers.
∞∞∞
After dinner, Callie and I return to pack lands to find my mother waiting for us in one of the sitting rooms off the great room where I hold official alpha business. She’s in a wingback armchair with a photo album splayed across her lap, sitting underneath the low glow of a curved lamp. Her gaze sweeps over our disheveled appearances—a cool assessment over my shirtless state and a more thorough measure of Callie from the top of her oily hair down to her bare feet.
“Went swimming,” I explain, instinctively stepping in front of my mate. My stance is casual, my hands loose at my sides, but there’s no denying it’s a protective gesture.
My mother dips her chin in a subservient motion, or as close to one as an alpha is willing to lower themselves to. It’s a weird dynamic between us. I’m her son, but she is a guest on my land. Our wolves circle each other while we attempt to navigate whatever is between us. Spending more than ten years apart has changed us both.
Sensing the tension in the room, Callie places her hand against my back, her cool fingers soothing against my heated skin. Her emotions regarding my mother are complicated and tend to burn brightly in her presence. I sense her gut reaction to defend me and lash out at her for abandoning me, but also hope that her return will help me heal. I’ve wanted my mother back for so long, so she wants that for me.
Wanting to know why my mother waited for us, but also knowing that I’ll be on edge with my need to protect my mate, I murmur over my shoulder, “Go take your shower. I’ll be up shortly.”
She’s conflicted about leaving us alone, her need to protect me as strong as mine is to protect her. I doubt my mother would physically harm me, but words are powerful weapons that can hurt without intending to.
I turn around and kiss her forehead. “I’ll be fine.”
“Better be,” she states, giving my mother a significant look that has a sharp bite of warning. After giving my hand a gentle squeeze, she shuffles out of the room still dressed in my flannel and blanket.
When the sound of the door to my mate’s suite closes, my mother comments, “I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“She worries about me,” I answer, softening the harder truth that Callie blames my mother as much as the alpha for what happened to me.
“Mijo, I would never hurt you,” she insists, appearing offended at the mere suggestion that I’m not safe alone with her. “I love you.”
“Already have,” I counter quietly, folding my arms and leaning against the doorframe. The memory of being eight years old and waking up to a letter on my bedside, promising she’d come back, is an old wound that was only recently beginning to heal with Callie’s help. Now, it’s fresh and bleeding.
Despite it being the truth, I almost want to take the words back when I see the pain in my mother’s eyes. She looks down at the open album on her lap, running her fingers along old pictures that I don’t recognize. “Is that why you didn’t want to spend your birthday with me?”
I’m surprised and ashamed, because it didn’t occur to me to spend it with her. After all this time of wanting her back, I forgot her completely when it came time to make plans. This was the first time in a long time where I got to choose what to do. My birthday was usually a collection of challenges where I had to prove myself worthy of the pack that didn’t want me. At the time, it was easier to do them than defy the alpha, my younger self hoping that maybe if I did well enough that I’d earn my way back in. It’s only recently that I considered he was testing me for something else—my potential to be the next alpha.
My mother flips over a few pages until there’s a picture of me on my fifth birthday, my face covered in ice cream cake as I grin at the camera. She smiles sadly down at my younger self. Before she left, we had traditions of our own—the main one being we spent the whole day together, just the two of us. There was a party for everyone later, but the day of was ours.
I wait too long to say something, and she seems to take it as confirmation of her suspicions. My mother is in her mid-forties, but the weight of grief and regret seems to age her at that moment. She closes the album and rises slowly to her feet. Holding out the leather book with well-worn edges, she states, “You are more than what your father made you. When you want to know more, come find me.”
Taking the album from her hand, I move out of the doorway to allow her to pass. She hesitates next to me, her blue eyes bright with emotion. I don’t hate her, it would probably be easier if I did, but for so long, she was my future, my promise of a better life.
“Thank you,” I say, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
Her entire expression softens, a smile full of hope gracing her lips. “Feliz cumplea?os, Mijo. I never forgot you in all the years we were apart. Not once.”
When she leaves, I slump into the chair she left and stare down at what is apparently my human history that isn’t derived from the man that tortured me most of my life. It’s bizarre to think of myself outside of my wolf—a lineage of people who have no idea shifters like me exist beyond myths and legends. Even knowing my mother was human, it never occurred to me to think of myself as half human, and that it came with the potential of more family—ones who didn’t hate me for what I represented and the power I now hold.
I sit here much longer than I intended, and I’m brought back to myself with Callie’s arrival. Dressed in another one of my flannels, she pads over to me. I place the album on a nearby side table so she has room to sit in my lap.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, cuddling up to me with her legs hanging over the arm of the chair.
I hug her and kiss the top of her wet hair. “Yes, reina. I’m okay.”
There are questions bubbling inside her, but she also senses that I’m tired. Conversations with my mother are a draining experience, so instead of giving into her curiosity, she suggests, “Want to carry me to bed?” Quickly, she adds, “For sleeping. We need sleep. Big day of breaking down walls and such tomorrow.”
Chuckling, I tuck my arms around her back and under her knees, and then I stand up. She wraps her arms around my neck and leans her head against my chest. I take comfort in the fact that we’re finishing our evening like we started it, with me carrying her off to be alone together. No matter what happens with my mother, or what I learn about the other side of my history, I always have her and the guys. They are my home, my pack, my family. As long as I have them, nothing else matters.