Chapter 8 #3
It had probably been beaten out of her. Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.
The need to be accepted was an ingrained part of survival, especially for an orphaned shifter.
He forced himself to remain in the chair so as not to pressure her any more than he already had, even though his soul hungered to unite with hers.
It was no longer just a physical need to join with her but a joining of spirits he yearned for as well.
“Ye are and always have been special. No one appreciated ye until now.” He started to say more, but a hesitant knock interrupted him.
He strode across the room and yanked open the door.
Otto barrelled in, crossed the room, and nearly toppled Calia over.
She pulled him into a hug and broke down in tears again. “Oh, Otto, we’re in such a horrible mess.”
Mathison’s heart sank even lower. Did she feel nothing for him? Was she oblivious to the mate bond? He’d never felt such an aching hunger for someone before. How could she feel nothing?
“She feels it,” Dubh said. “As does the pale alpha. It would seem she has much to overcome. The alpha requests we give her time.”
“The alpha spoke to ye?” Even in his thoughts, Mathison kept his voice low, remembering the tales of the pale one’s powers.
“Aye, the Realm gives her strength. She wishes to shift but fears what it might do to Calia since she does not know of her abilities nor how to resume her human form.”
Returning to the hearth with Calia and her dog, Mathison lowered himself to the rug beside her.
He stared into the flames, begging the crackling wood and the glow of the roiling red coals at the base of the logs to grant him wisdom and tell him what to say to make things better for her.
But nothing came to mind, so he remained silent.
Gradually, her sobs quieted to occasional coughs and sniffing. He rose and went to the cabinets behind the room divider, fetched her a handkerchief, and returned to hand it to her. “Here, lass. To wipe away yer tears.”
“Thank you.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Sorry about the breakdown. I’m normally better than that.”
“I know this has not been a simple thing to experience.”
“That’s an understatement.” Staring at the fire, she frowned. “If you can be in my century as long as you stay on holy ground, that means you could live in my time, right?”
“I am needed here. To save the Realm.” He sat beside her on the floor once again. “And ’tis my understanding that the goddesses would not allow my presence in yer time to become permanent.”
“Why not?”
“Because I dinna belong there.”
“Well, I don’t belong here.”
“From what ye have shared, ye belong here a great deal more than ye realize.”
“My heart isn’t here.” She looked away, unable to face him.
“Again, I believe it is. If ye find the courage to embrace it.” He reached over, gently took hold of her chin, and turned her to face him. “We are meant to be, lass. Can ye not feel it?”
She stared at him, her soulful eyes storming with uncertainty, fear, and a loneliness he recognized to the depths of his soul. He was just as lonely. They needed each other so very badly.
“I need…time,” she whispered.
While he didn’t like it, he understood. Her becoming accustomed to seventeenth century Scotland’s Ninth Realm would be no easy feat, considering the intricacies of her time and all that made up a normal part of her existence. With a nod, he let his hand fall away and released her. “I understand.”
She rubbed her forehead, then swiped a hand across her eyes. “I think that pond muck is helping my head feel better, but I’m suddenly very tired. Could I lie down for a little while?”
“Of course.” He stood and held out his hand to help her rise.
When she took it, relief flooded through him.
At least she didn’t fear touching him. He led her to the bed, helped her off with her boots, then tucked her beneath the covers.
“When ye awaken, I’ll show ye the rest of Wraith Tower.
It’s nay so bad, lass. I swear it. After all, I’ve had three hundred years to make it as much of a home as possible.
” He pointed at the silver bellpull ribbon hanging down beside the bed.
“Should ye need anything, one pull on that cord will bring the servants running—and me as well.”
She offered him a faint smile that came off as forced. That too was understandable. “Thank you.”
Unable to resist, he kissed her forehead and brushed the white strand of her dark hair back from her face. “Rest well, lass. Things will be easier to bear once ye’ve rested.”
“I hope so.”
He hoped so, too, for both their sakes.
* * *
As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mathison, Calia threw back the covers, sprang out of bed, and jammed her feet back into her boots.
She had to get out of here and find the Seven Cairns of this reality.
A disturbing heaviness in her chest tried to pull her back and make her rethink such a dangerous choice.
It was like a knot of guilt that she couldn’t quite swallow.
How could she possibly consider leaving Mathison and never seeing him again?
She shook her head against the nagging persistence that clawed at her.
“No. We have to go back. We don’t belong here. ”
Otto perked his ears, cocked his head, and whined.
She pointed at him. “I’m counting on you to help me find the way out. Deal?”
He softly woofed.
“We must not leave,” her inner voice said. “It isn’t safe for you to travel in the Ninth Realm without your Mathison.”
Calia clenched her teeth and refused to respond.
Never again. Whatever was living between her ears had betrayed her by talking to Mathison’s wolf—and how crazy did that even sound?
As soon as she got back to her Scotland, she was going online and finding some mental help to rid her of this extra personality she’d carried around all her life.
“You cannot be rid of me. You and I are one being. We are a whole.”
“If what Mathison said about your being from here is true, then why don’t you sound Scottish like he does?” Calia searched for something to use as a cloak or jacket and finally settled on the blanket, tying it around her shoulders like a cape.
“When I was reborn as part of you, when the goddesses finally blessed me with a part of me that was human, I became one with you—speaking like you. In my previous life here in the Ninth Realm, I was born a shifter animal spirit with no human soul to balance with. I was a freak, a lost one longing for a home, for an anchor, and I was exiled to die. When I refused to be defeated and helped others find their strength, the clans hunted me down. I have a score to settle with Bansys, the witch. If not for the goddesses, that she-devil would have obliterated me.”
Calia slowed in the gathering of whatever she could find that might help her trek across Scotland.
For the first time in her life, she felt sorry for what she’d always assumed was either a quirky facet of her personality or mental illness.
But the way her inner voice talked, they were like…
conjoined twins or something…who needed each other to thrive. “Do you have a name?”
“I have been known by many names: Litress. Pale one. Spirit alpha. Devil ghost.”
“What name do you prefer? I always thought you were my intuition.” Or…a mental illness.
“I am a part of you as you are a part of me. We are not a mental illness. I like the name ‘Intuition’. My other names are from another life, a painful time I prefer to leave in the past.”
At least they agreed on the name. Calia went behind the screen, grabbed one of the folded linens, and filled it with what was left of the biscuits on the tray.
She had no idea how far she’d have to walk to find Seven Cairns.
She was somewhat knowledgeable about surviving in the woods, but a backup source of nutrition, no matter how scant, was a must. Something to carry water would be helpful, but it wasn’t to be found—at least, not in this room.
If worst came to worst, she could drink out of a stream.
“We must not leave,” Intuition repeated a great deal louder than before. “The Ninth Realm may be in Scotland, but it is not the Scotland of your time. Why will you not accept that we have found our mate? We are stronger with him than without him.”
“Because I need to go back. I can’t adapt and pivot here—not like I did back home.
” Calia couldn’t explain it, not to herself or to Intuition.
All she knew was that if she returned to where she belonged, for some strange reason, it felt like she’d know what to do about all the weirdness her life had become.
And besides, she needed the last connection she had to Gillian, loads of pictures, organized by year, in a book she carried everywhere.
“I know what I’m doing,” she told Intuition. “We’re going.”
She yanked open the bedroom door and groaned.
Mathison blocked her way, standing there with his powerful arms folded across his massive chest, smug and knowing. The firm line of his jaw rippled, then hardened to match his displeased glare. “Ye are going nowhere, Calia. Ye belong here with me, and here ye will stay.”