Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hidden just behind the hedgerow, Mathison remained motionless until he was certain the woman slept again.
“Calia,” his wolf corrected. Dubh’s thoughts were amplified since he currently controlled their form. “Our mate’s name is Calia—and we should not have spoken to her. We frightened her.”
“I forgot the old one gave her the amulet so she could understand us, no matter our shape.” It had taken every bit of magic he possessed to cloak both his scent and his wolf, so her animal wouldn’t detect him.
Such an expenditure of energy had wearied him to the point of carelessness.
It would not happen again. A twinge of jealousy rippled through him at the sight of the mongrel stretched out beside her.
“She likes him because she is lonely. She has no inner being to keep her company and fight at her side.”
Mathison couldn’t imagine such an existence.
He had known his wolf his entire life, which brought him to the same question that had niggled at him ever since Mairwen had told him his fated mate was a mortal.
“Since she possesses no spirit animal, what will ye do?” With shifters, not only did their human spirits bond, but their wolf spirits as well. It was a glorious completion for all.
“I canna say for certain.” His wolf’s long pause let Mathison know that the matter weighed heavily on his inner beast’s mind as well. “Would it not be much like mating with a latent?”
“But a latent still has a wolf. They simply never take control of the form.”
“There is more to her than we have yet to discover,” Dubh said. “I dinna understand it, but I feel it. I dinna think I will be lonely.”
Mathison felt it too, and it troubled him no small amount.
There was indeed a great deal more to learn about this enticing mortal.
Such as how had she come to possess such an irresistible pull, such an impossible-to-ignore magnetism?
As a Defender, he’d heard much about the fated mate bond whose love healed the tapestry of the blessed Highland Veil.
Many stories existed about the bond’s strength and power, but never had he imagined it could take him over with such ferocity.
“And she does not fear us. Do ye not find that strange? I thought wolves terrified mortals?”
“She thinks we are a very large stray dog because our fur is black.”
“’Tis the mark of royalty.”
“She doesn’t know that, ye ken? In her world, shifters are nothing more than make-believe where their wolves are either evil destroyers or lust-crazed heroes in novels.”
Dubh snorted. “Ridiculous. Just because we enjoy a good romp does not mean our lust controls us.”
“The old one said it was so in our Calia’s world.” Our Calia. Mathison couldn’t believe he’d said that. Nothing was confirmed as yet. It could be the pain of sheer loneliness that made the lass such a distraction.
“She is our Calia. Ye ken it as well as I.”
“Dinna be an arse.”
“Shall we draw closer? Her beast is sound asleep.” His wolf snorted again. “Poor protection for her, indeed.”
Mathison agreed, but he wouldn’t fault her chosen ally overmuch. After all, he was but a dog—loyal and true, but in no way as magnificent as a wolf. “Mind the light coming from the door. If either of them senses movement in the shadows, we could be discovered.”
They crept across the back garden, ignoring the rain and deftly maneuvering around a myriad of stone figures, more of the watchers, no doubt placed there by Mairwen and her ilk.
But Mathison understood why. The Weavers, the immortals charged with reuniting fated mates, had invested many an age into this particular match, and Mairwen had told him that a shifter’s reunion with the other half of their soul provided the Highland Veil with even more healing power than the usual binding of fated mates.
Perhaps it was because a shifter was already two beings, so helping them find their other halves was double the result.
Except in this case, Calia was not a shifter.
Mathison blinked away the complicated thought.
This was no time for confusion or muddying the waters, even though this situation was indeed strange.
Just as they drew up even with the set of doors, Calia stirred and opened her eyes. It was almost as if she sensed them. She sat up and combed her fingers through her long, dark hair, raking it back from her face and redoing the tie that kept it in place.
Her hazel eyes were lighter than the palest green, with barely a hint of a golden ring at their center and a dark, almost black border around their rim.
He’d never seen eyes that shade before. It was as though she possessed the power to peer into a man’s very soul.
And she was a tall woman, long and lean, who moved with the grace of a wild spirit roaming the woods. She was beautiful. She was his Calia.
He crouched and eased backward, deeper into the shadows as she walked to the door and peered outside. Her restlessness made him wonder if she could sense him as strongly as he sensed her.
Her beast joined her at the door, fogging the glass and then smearing it away with its nose and a swipe of its tongue. Mathison eyed the dog’s oversized feet. The beastie was a youngling and had yet to fully grow into itself. He hoped to befriend the canine and gain its trust.
Then she turned and looked right at him as if she had known where he was the entire time. Their eyes locked, and she smiled. Slipping out the door without letting her ally follow, she crouched and held out her hand. “Hi there, handsome. Are you hungry?”
“She thinks us handsome,” Dubh said.
“She thinks us a dog,” Mathison reminded his gloating being. “Take care. She still wears the amulet.” As long as neither of them spoke directly to her, whatever they said would remain hidden. But if they spoke to her, she would hear them as clearly as they heard her.
She wiggled her fingers and smiled, patient in her quest. “I have some biscuits that Otto loves, and I’m sure he’d share his kibble. He remembers how it feels to go hungry.”
“She understands her beastie, but she canna hear us without the amulet?” Dubh asked.
“I think she senses what her mongrel thinks and feels. They have forged a connection of trust.” A stronger surge of jealousy washed through Mathison.
Otto bounced against the door, barking and gnashing his teeth to be released.
“Otto, stop.” Calia turned and tapped on the door, her tone calm but firm. “Wolf means us no harm. He’s just looking for shelter and a meal. Remember how that feels?”
Whining, the dog pawed at the door with less force.
“Otto. You’re better than that, and you know I love you. Now, calm down.”
The canine rolled back on his haunches and sat, but he was not pleased.
Calia eased forward, her knuckles still extended. “You can trust me, Wolf. Here. Have a sniff.”
Lore a’mighty, he could smell her from here, and her intoxicating scent would be his undoing. Mathison licked his chops. His wolf whined louder than the mongrel behind the door.
“I have plenty of food, and you can come inside by the fire.” She rubbed her arms and slowly straightened from her crouching position.
“I’m going to put Otto in the bedroom so the two of you don’t have any issues.
I don’t want anyone hurt. Don’t run off.
I’ll be right back.” She went back inside, treating them to a mouth-watering view of her fine, round arse displayed ever so brilliantly in those dark blue trews of hers.
“This realm’s clothing displays a woman’s shape to anyone who cares to look,” Dubh said. “Do we like that?”
“We do not.” Mathison snorted. She should be clad in fine gowns that accentuated her beauty with the modesty befitting a chieftain’s wife.
Her shapeliness and true form should be reserved for his eyes alone.
He took a step back at that thought. How could he possibly think of her in such a manner?
It was too soon. Mairwen had said this period was for them both to learn more about one another.
Fated mate bond or not, this match could still go very wrong.
“She left the door open for us to go inside,” Dubh said. “Ye can argue with yerself later. Are we going in or not?”
“We shall enter, but remain vigilant.” Mathison eased forward, shaking the dampness from his thick coat before they stepped inside.
By all the gods and goddesses, her intoxicating scent filled the room, enhanced by the fire in the small free-standing woodstove in the corner.
She smelled of the richest vanilla and all the comforting aromas that brought forth images of belonging and never being lonely again.
She smelled like a woman he needed in his arms. Forever.
He licked his chops again and plopped down just a few steps into the room.
“We shall sit by the door in case her beastie breaks free, and we need to run to keep from harming him.”
“It wouldn’t do to hurt her beastie.”
“No. It would not.”
She emerged from a room on the other side of the space and softly closed the door behind her.
Whining and grumbling behind the door she had just shut made it clear her ally was not pleased with this latest development.
She smiled and went to her knees when she saw him. “I’m so glad you came inside.”
“Dinna think to her,” Mathison warned. “She will hear us.”
“I know that.” His wolf snorted in disgust. “I am not the one who forgets such things.”
“Fair point.”
She inched closer with her hand extended. “Can I pet you?”
As if neither he nor his wolf controlled their actions, Mathison went to her and nudged his head up into her hand. A powerful sensation surged through him like a spark igniting a fire.
She felt it too because she drew back and stared at her hand as if it had betrayed her.
His wolf whined and took them down to a submissive position, belly crawling closer.