Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
MILO
The second I opened the door, every restless thought I’d spent the day fighting disappeared.
Calder stood on the porch with the fading evening light behind him, broad enough that the doorway suddenly felt too small to hold him properly. Cool air crept around him when he stepped inside, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth with it.
And just like that, the cabin stopped feeling empty.
My eyes flicked instinctively toward the table, toward the stones still arranged there, the ones that had promised exactly this.
“I said I would return,” he said quietly.
Something warm twisted low in me at that. “Yeah,” I murmured, stepping back to let him in fully. “You did.”
The latch clicked shut behind him, and neither of us moved.
The memory of last night still simmered too close beneath my skin—Calder’s hands on me, his mouth against mine, the impossible carefulness of him even while he wanted more.
And now he was here again, watching me with the same quiet certainty that had made it impossible to stop thinking about him all day.
I crossed the space between us first, fast enough that Calder barely had time to brace himself before my hands landed against his chest. Heat pressed instantly into my palms, seeping through thick fur, solid muscle tensing beneath as he drew in a sharp breath.
Then his hands found me.
Lower this time. Surer.
One spread carefully across my waist while the other rested at the small of my back with unmistakable intent, drawing me against him instead of merely allowing the proximity.
My pulse kicked hard.
This was different from the cave, different from the couch.
Calder wasn’t holding himself at the edge of touch anymore.
“Tell me if I should stop,” he husked, voice rougher now, like restraint already cost him effort.
I shook my head immediately. “Don’t.”
The word came out quieter than I intended, but Calder stiffened, his focus narrowing entirely onto me.
His grip adjusted carefully, pulling me closer until there wasn’t space left between us anymore. Chest against chest, shared breath–desire.
And this time when I looked at him, my attention caught lower for half a second.
His mouth.
Again.
Apparently my self-control had left the cabin entirely.
Calder noticed immediately. “Your attention returns there often.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Can you blame me?”
His head tilted slightly, like he was genuinely considering the question instead of recognizing it as flirting, but I leaned in before either of us could overthink it.
Slower this time, not out of uncertainty, but because I wanted him to kiss me back by choice rather than instinct.
He met me halfway.
The second our mouths touched again, something in him changed—not physically, not yet, but in the way he kissed me back. He was less hesitant now, less careful about wanting.
One hand spread wider against my back while the other tightened briefly at my waist before deliberately relaxing again, like he was constantly monitoring his own strength.
God, that did something dangerous to me.
I arched into him instinctively, my fingers sliding up and into his hair. The pale curls were softer than they looked, thick between my fingers, and the quiet sound Calder made against my mouth nearly wrecked me on the spot.
His entire body reacted, his attention narrowing instantly onto me like the contact had pulled every thought in him toward a single point.
His mouth stayed on mine, but the rest of him went suddenly still, awareness tightening through him so completely I could feel it in the way he held me.
“Tell me—” he began, then stopped, as if he wasn’t sure how to finish the thought.
I didn’t give him the chance. “I will,” I murmured against his mouth. “Just don’t stop.”
The next thing I knew, my feet were swept off the floor.
A startled breath burst from my chest as Calder lifted me effortlessly, one arm beneath my knees, the other secure at my back. The movement was impossibly smooth and controlled enough that I barely felt the transition before I was against his chest instead of standing in front of him.
“Well,” I puffed, laughing softly despite myself. “I could get used to this.”
Calder’s gaze flicked toward me immediately, alert at the sound. I tightened my grip around his shoulders automatically—not because I thought he’d drop me, but because my body didn’t seem entirely capable of processing being held like this without reacting somehow.
And God, he made it look easy.
I’d photographed moments like this before—people carried across dance floors, laughing into each other’s shoulders, wrapped up in the kind of happiness that always looked effortless through a camera lens.
None of it had ever felt like this from the inside.
There was no strain in Calder, no adjustment, no imbalance.
Nothing but overwhelming, controlled strength, and somehow the tenderness of it affected me even more than the size difference did.
He moved like he understood exactly how much force he carried and had decided, consciously, to use none of it against me.
My stomach flipped hard enough that I buried my face briefly against his shoulder with a muttered, “You’re ruining every wedding photo I’ve ever taken.”
“Why?”
“Because none of them looked like this.”
That landed somewhere in him.
I saw it in the brief change in his eyes before he looked forward again.
The cabin was mostly one open space, the bed visible beyond the sitting area, and Calder crossed the room without loosening his hold on me. The room felt smaller around him, crowded with heat and presence and the quiet certainty of where this was heading.
When he reached the bed, he lowered me onto the mattress with almost painful care.
One hand stayed at my back until he was certain I was balanced properly against the plush surface, like letting go required intention.
I caught his wrist before he could pull away fully. “Hey.”
Close like this, they looked greener than usual beneath the cabin light, more muted forest green than amber now. Intense enough that it felt impossible to look anywhere else for long.
“Still okay?” I asked softly.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. Then, more quietly, “I do not wish to stop.”
“Good,” I murmured, the wind knocked out of me by the vulnerability in his tone. “Me neither.”
I tugged him back to my mouth, the kiss deeper this time.
Calder held himself carefully above me, one arm braced beside my head while the other stayed firm at my waist. Even now—even kissing me like he wanted more—he was still conscious of his size, his strength, the amount of weight he let settle against me.
But it was getting harder for him—I felt that first.
The tension beneath my hands changed abruptly, muscles tightening in a way that had nothing to do with desire. Calder twitched slightly against my mouth, a rough breath catching somewhere low in his throat before he pulled back fast enough to make the mattress shift beneath me.
I pushed up onto my elbows immediately. “Calder?”
His shoulders tensed as I watched, the broad shape of him seeming to compress inward for half a second before changing altogether. Fur receded unevenly beneath my gaze, dark strands sinking back against skin so pale it almost looked silver in the dim cabin light.
My breath hitched.
His hands flexed hard at his sides. The claws I’d felt against my waist moments earlier shortened visibly, fingers narrowing and lengthening until they looked almost human except for the lingering heaviness of the joints.
Calder’s breathing roughened. “Do not come closer,” he demanded.
But even his voice sounded different now.
It was still deep and unmistakably him, but less filtered through the larger shape he usually wore.
I realized then that I’d already moved halfway off the bed without meaning to—toward him.
And he noticed too.
The awareness in his eyes sharpened immediately, fear and restraint colliding there so openly that it grounded me faster than anything else possibly could have.
Then his height began to shrink gradually beneath my hands.
The enormous shape of him narrowed, bones and muscle breaking and contorting beneath pale skin while his posture adjusted around the new balance of his body. Fur didn’t disappear so much as sink beneath his skin, as though his body couldn’t decide which version of itself it wanted to be.
His shoulders remained broad, his frame still heavy with impossible strength, but the vastness of him folded inward until he was no longer towering over the room.
He was still enormous—still taller than any man I’d ever met—but the cabin no longer looked as though it had been built too small to contain him.
The impossible size was gone.
The impossible presence wasn’t.
And finally, I saw his face clearly.
My breath caught.
Pale skin caught the fading light. Cool-toned, almost like river stone smoothed by centuries beneath moving water.
Strong cheekbones and a sharp jaw emerged beneath loose near-white curls that refused to lie flat, soft enough to invite touch while looking as though they’d never once been tamed by human hands.
His eyes found mine, muted, but unmistakably Calder.
The fear in them hit me before anything else.
He looked human until my eyes adjusted. Then everything about him still felt just slightly... wrong. Not frightening. Just... different.
The way he held himself was too still. Even standing there, he carried himself like something that had learned how to become a man without ever truly needing to be one. Every muscle pulled tight with control.
“I did not intend for this to occur,” he said carefully.
I heard the strain beneath the discipline, like whatever held this form together had slipped during the kiss and he still wasn’t entirely certain he could keep it.
But all I could think was… It was still him. The same watchfulness. The same caution. The same quiet restraint I’d fallen for from the very beginning. Only now there was less distance between us. Less mystery.
“I’m not running,” I whispered.
Something flickered across his face then—brief enough I almost missed it, but real—relief.
I took slow, cautious steps toward him.
Calder tracked every movement, tension tightening visibly through his shoulders, but he didn’t move away.
When I came to a stop in front of him, close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin, he scanned my face like he still couldn’t fully believe what he was seeing there.
“You’re still you,” I murmured.
And that—more than anything else—was what finally made him look like he could breathe again.
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders with a slow exhale, though uncertainty still lingered in the way he held himself, like he wasn’t entirely convinced the moment wouldn’t break if either of us moved too quickly.
Only now that the fear had loosened enough for me to stop reacting to the transformation itself did I fully realize something else.
Calder was naked.
The thought hit late and all at once.
My gaze dropped instinctively before I could stop it, tracing downward over smooth skin stretched across a broad chest and a heavy frame built more like something carved from the forest than born human.
Muscle rippled beneath skin with the same muted strength I already knew from his larger form, only now there was nothing hiding it.
And—oh.
Heat climbed my throat so fast it almost hurt.
Because Calder was very, very male, and large enough that my brain briefly lost the ability to produce coherent thoughts about it.
His attention sharpened on my face immediately. “You appear distressed.”
“I’m not distressed,” I chuckled, still staring a second too long before dragging my eyes back upward. “Just… adjusting.”
Something cautious flickered across his expression. “To what?”
I huffed out a breath somewhere between embarrassment and disbelief. “You really want me to answer that honestly right now?”
Calder considered the question with complete seriousness. “Yes.”
God, that should not have been attractive. Unfortunately, it really was.
My eyes betrayed me again, and Calder followed my attention.
Understanding arrived slowly across his face, awareness tightening through him so suddenly that I watched the realization settle in real time.
Then, very carefully, he said, “Oh.”
And honestly?
That one syllable might’ve been the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life.