Chapter 27
Callum
Inside my cabin, the wards flare to life with a familiar vibration as the door closes behind us. Lyanna steps into the warm space, the golden glow of lamps catching in her hair.
I pull her into my arms, and she comes willingly, her body fitting against mine like she was made for it. Our lips meet in a kiss that starts gently but quickly deepens with a hunger neither of us tries to hide.
She breaks the kiss with a mischievous smile that makes my breath catch. Her fingers find the button of my jeans, working it open with deliberate slowness.
“Tonight, you’re mine,” she murmurs against my lips, her voice carrying that gentle authority that always undoes me. “Let me show you what that means.” Her hands press against my chest, guiding me backward with deliberate intent.
I start to protest—I want to worship her, make her come apart beneath my hands and mouth—but the words die in my throat as she eases me down onto the mattress. There’s something intoxicating about letting her take control, about surrendering to the careful way she tends to me.
She drops gracefully to her knees beside the bed, her emerald eyes never leaving mine as her fingers work at my boots.
Each movement is unhurried, purposeful, like she’s performing some sacred ritual rather than simply undressing me.
The boots hit the floor with soft thuds, followed by my jeans and briefs sliding down my legs in one smooth motion.
When her fingers finally wrap around my already hard cock, I groan, my head falling back against the pillows. The touch is electric, sending shockwaves through my entire body. “Fuck, Lyanna—“
She looks up at me through those thick lashes, honey-blonde hair catching the lamplight, with that same wicked smile playing at the corners of her lips.
It’s a side of her I rarely see—playful, mischievous, completely in her element.
Then she lowers her head, and my world narrows to the anticipation of what’s coming.
The first touch of her tongue makes every muscle in my body go taut, a slow, deliberate lick from base to tip that has me gripping the sheets hard enough to tear them. She’s methodical in her exploration, mapping every sensitive spot with the same focused attention she brings to healing.
“You don’t have to—“ I manage to rasp out, but she ignores my half-hearted protest, her attention laser-focused on the sensitive underside of my cock. Her tongue traces patterns that make my hips twitch before she collects the precum beading at the tip with a soft hum of satisfaction.
She works me with devastating precision, watching my reactions like she’s cataloging them for future reference.
Every breath that hitches, every involuntary movement—she notices it all, adjusting her technique accordingly.
When she finally takes me in her mouth, the wet heat is almost too much to bear.
She takes me deeper than I thought possible, her throat relaxing around me in a way that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
My hips buck involuntarily as she hollows her cheeks, the suction sending waves of pleasure racing up my spine. “Lyanna—stop—I’m going to—“
She only hums in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pure electricity through my entire nervous system. Instead of pulling back like I expect, she takes me even deeper, her rhythm becoming more insistent, more demanding. One hand braces against my thigh, while the other works my balls.
“Fuuuck Lyanna,” I growl, more wolf than man.
I’m completely lost, back arched off the bed, every muscle in my body taut and trembling as my control shatters completely.
. The pleasure builds to an almost painful crescendo before I come hard down her throat, my back arching off the bed.
She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch. She swallows everything I give her while maintaining that steady, devastating rhythm until I’m completely spent.
When she finally releases me, she looks up with triumph gleaming in eyes gone dark with satisfaction, a wicked smile curving on her lips. There’s something primal about the sight—my composed, diplomatic healer, looking utterly pleased with herself for reducing me to trembling aftershocks.
I growl deep in my chest and pull Lyanna up in one swift motion, tearing at her clothes with a primal urgency I’ve never felt before. Her sweater, jeans, underwear—they land scattered across my cabin as I shed my own shirt, not caring where it falls.
The mate bond pulses between us, a living thing demanding to be acknowledged, completed, snapped into place. My wolf surges forward, desperate to claim her, and I have to wrestle him back down with everything I have. Not yet. Not like this.
“Lyanna,” I rasp, my voice barely human as I lower her to the bed.
I dip my head between her thighs, tasting her with a hungry stroke of my tongue that makes her arch against me. My hands grip her hips, holding her in place as I worship her with my mouth, each flick and swirl drawing soft cries from her lips.
But she’s having none of it. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me up with surprising strength.
“Take me,” she demands, her voice raw with a desperation that matches mine. “Make me yours. Now.”
I raise my head, startled by her urgency. There’s something in her eyes—a certainty, a compulsion that goes beyond desire. Like she’s racing against something I can’t see.
“Are you sure—“
“Now, Callum,” she interrupts, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I don’t question her again. Positioning myself at her entrance, I push forward, groaning as her tight heat envelops me. The sensation is overwhelming—not just physical pleasure, but something deeper, a connection that feels ancient and inevitable.
The bond between us pulses stronger, urging us faster as I begin to move inside her.
She takes all of me, her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper with each thrust. I feel everything she feels—her pleasure mirroring mine, amplifying it, creating a feedback loop that’s almost too intense to bear.
“Callum,” she gasps, her gaze holding mine with fierce intensity.
Every nerve ending in my body pulses as I bury myself deep inside her, the slick heat of her making my vision blur at the edges.
The bond between us throbs like a living thing, wild and demanding.
I can feel her—not just physically but through the connection that grows stronger with each thrust—her pleasure amplifying mine until I can’t tell where sensation ends, and magic begins.
“Callum,” she gasps, her fingernails raking down my back, leaving trails of fire I welcome.
My wolf surges forward, demanding I claim her completely. Mark her. Make her undeniably mine. The urge to sink my teeth into the soft juncture where her neck meets her shoulder becomes nearly overwhelming.
“Do it,” she whispers against my ear, her breath coming in short pants as I drive into her. Her scent changes, growing headier with arousal, honey and wildflowers mixed with the raw musk of sex. “Mark me. Make me yours.”
I growl, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest as I drive deeper, harder. Sweat slicks between our bodies, her skin glowing with that subtle fae luminescence that intensifies with her passion.
“Are you sure you know what you’re asking?” I manage to rasp out, even as my canines lengthen, my wolf pushing forward.
Her eyes flash, deep forest green meeting my gaze. “I know exactly what I’m asking.”
Through the bond, I feel her pleasure building, coiling tighter with each thrust. My own release builds in response, our shared sensation spiraling higher until we’re racing toward the same edge.
“Mine,” I growl, unable to hold back any longer. Her inner muscles clench around me as her climax begins, the sensation so intense it nearly pushes me over the edge.
I dip my head to her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. My teeth graze her skin, testing, asking permission one final time.
“Yes,” she gasps, her entire body tensing beneath me as the wave of pleasure is almost crashing into her.
I feel it building between us—that perfect, shattering release. My wolf surges forward again, and this time I can’t hold him back. I feel my fangs descend, the primal need to mark her, to claim her as mine forever, rising to the surface as we hurtle toward ecstasy together.
Suddenly, the wards shatter with a deafening crack that shatters the perfect moment between us.
A violent surge of corrupted magic rips through the protection layers, tearing apart Nyxiana’s impenetrable shields like they’re made of paper.
The magical backlash hurls Lyanna and me apart, throwing us to opposite sides of the bed.
I recognize the magical signature instantly—Faelan. That distinctive corruption, that copper-tainted power I felt during the contamination crisis. It’s unmistakable.
The cabin door explodes inward in a shower of splinters before I can even reach for Lyanna. Four fae guards in the emerald and gold of Gleann na Sidhe burst through the opening, moving with military precision. Not a hasty grab—a planned extraction.
“Lyanna!” I roar, lunging across the bed toward her. My fingers almost brush her outstretched hand when something wraps around my body, yanking me backward with brutal force.
Spelled restraints slam me against the wall hard enough to crack the logs—silver-blue magical bonds that wrap around my wrists, ankles, and throat like living chains.
The magic burns where it touches skin, specifically designed to hold shifters.
I’ve seen these in Guardian archives: fae capture bonds, keyed to wolf physiology, tightening with every struggle.
I strain against them anyway, muscles bulging, veins standing out on my neck.
“Callum!” Lyanna screams as another guard seizes her arm, dragging her naked body from the bed. The vulnerability in her voice tears through me worse than any blade.
The half-formed connection between us screams in agony—a raw, primal pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt. We were seconds away from completion, from being permanently bound. The timing isn’t coincidental.
My vision blurs with rage as I struggle against the restraints. Every instinct, every cell in my body demands I protect her, keep her safe. But the spelled bonds hold firm despite my desperate strength.
Through the shattered doorway, I catch a glimpse of Faelan’s face—Phil Dawson’s face, the glamour he wore when he infiltrated our pack. That satisfied smile burns into my memory before he vanishes. He wanted us broken at exactly this moment. Before we could complete what we started.
“No!” I roar as the guards drag Lyanna toward a shimmering portal forming in the center of my cabin. She fights with everything she has, twisting and clawing at her captors, but they’re too strong, too prepared.
“CALLUM!” Lyanna screams my name as they reach the threshold of the portal, her naked form struggling against their grip, our incomplete bond a physical agony between us.
My wolf surges forward with a roar that shreds through the man—and something else rises with him.
That other part of my blood, the angel heritage I’ve spent years suppressing, floods through me in a blinding rush.
The spelled restraints shatter. The bonds were designed for shifters—they didn’t account for what happens when wolf fury and angelic power combine in a mate’s defense.
I lunge for the portal in a desperate dive, but I’m too late. The guards are organized, methodical—they shove Lyanna through the shimmering vortex, her body disappearing with a final, terrified scream that cuts straight through my soul.
“LYANNA!” I roar, my fingers inches from the portal’s edge as it snaps closed with a final flare of corrupt magic. The collapse sends a shockwave through the cabin—furniture splinters, the door frame cracks, half the wall nearest the portal blows outward in a spray of wood and debris.
My momentum carries me through the destruction, body crashing into rubble where the portal stood seconds before.
The bond between us—that half-formed, raw connection—screams in agony. It’s like someone has taken a jagged blade and sliced through my very core, leaving the wound edges burning and exposed. My wolf howls in rage and despair.
“No! NO!” I claw at the wreckage, at the scorched floorboards where the portal seared through reality. The pain is blinding, unimaginable—worse than any injury I’ve ever experienced. My fingers dig into splintered wood, nails tearing, blood welling from a dozen cuts I don’t feel.
Dane and Ben burst through the shattered doorway with pack warriors close behind, weapons drawn and ready for a fight that’s already over. They’re mere seconds too late—there’s nothing left to fight, no enemy to engage.
“Where is she?” Dane demands, scanning the ruined cabin. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene—my naked, blood-streaked form, the fading magical residue, the complete absence of Lyanna.
I can’t answer him. Can’t form words. The severed connection is physical torture, raw magical nerves screaming across dimensions where she should be.
My hands keep clawing at the scorched floorboards, tearing at splintered wood, digging for a portal that no longer exists.
Blood pools beneath my fingers. I don’t stop.
“Callum, stop!” Dane moves to restrain me, but I throw him off with supernatural strength, my wolf completely overwhelming human control.
Nova comes through the door and crouches nearby, hands moving in complex patterns as she traces the fading magical signature. “Portal residue dissipating fast,” she reports, voice tense. “Faelan’s corruption signature. Classic extraction pattern. We can’t track it—they’ve masked the destination.”
The truth crashes through me with devastating clarity. He was watching. Waiting for exactly this moment.
My wolf surges completely forward, an agonized howl tearing from my throat as I throw back my head.
The sound echoes through the cabin and beyond, a primal cry of loss and rage that will carry across the entire territory.
I feel my body convulsing with the effort to contain the pain as my consciousness starts to fragment under the strain.
“She’s gone,” I manage to rasp before my vision tunnels and the world goes black; the last thing I register is my wolf’s howl of absolute grief echoing through the valley.