Chapter 26
POV: Callum
I had half a mind to go out and find this Don myself and drag him back here. The waiting was killing me. Two days had passed since Gordo showed up, and patience wasn’t usually in my repertoire—except when it came to Sorsha.
We hadn’t progressed beyond kissing and sleeping, though she was far more at ease now and never hesitated to curl against me.
Waking with her in my arms was a joy, though it cost me dearly in restraint, and I had no choice but to relieve the ache in my nether regions alone.
I hammered the next bracket so hard it snapped under the blow, then hurled the broken piece into the crate filled with others I’d ruined.
Taking a step back, I peered through the slit at the top of the door. Sorsha was in the backyard, taking down the washing. She’d filled out a little. Every curve held me captive, and I was more in love with her than ever—if such a thing were possible.
She bent to drop the folded sheet into the basket, and my gaze locked shamelessly on the perfect curve of her ass. Heat flared in me, fierce and unrelenting. Then she straightened, turned with a snap, and caught me staring through the gap.
“Something wrong?”
“No, why?”
“You made a funny noise.”
“Did I?” I must have groaned out loud.
“Do you need me?”
I hadn’t drunk my tea for the last two days, telling Sorsha I wanted to be prepared when this Don came knocking. She seemed more than willing to help me in the meantime—in the form of kisses that scorched my soul and left me both soothed and strung tighter than tempered steel.
It was a sweet agony, and I loved that she came running the moment she thought I was angry—an emotion that struck me far more often these days, perhaps a little too often. But I couldn’t get enough of her.
“I always need you…” I grinned.
“You’re not angry, are you hungry?”
Hell yes, I was famished… “Hmm.”
“It’s almost lunch,” she said brightly.
I nodded, then had an idea. The restless energy chewing at me needed an outlet, and waiting around was driving me mad.
“Let’s eat lunch at that restaurant next to the magistrate’s office,” I suggested.
She pegged the sheet before turning around. “Okay, but what if he comes while we’re out?”
I shrugged. “Then he can damn well wait. I’ve done enough of that.”
Opening the door for her, I bowed playfully, catching her hand the instant she came close enough.
We headed toward town, and for a while neither of us felt the urge to speak. I dreamed of this—true companionable silence. I wasn’t a big talker, but since marrying Sorsha I’d become more open, more willing to share, often even leading the conversation.
My father hadn’t spoken much either, but the silence between us had never been easy. It had always felt heavy, charged.
She looked up when I tugged her hand. “Did you read this morning?”
“I did—only a page. And I’m going to keep reading that page until I can do it without stumbling,” she said with stubborn pride.
“Can you read the sign?” I pointed at April’s bakery.
“Of course. I read it before. It says Baked Goods.”
Letting go of her hand, I slipped my arm around her and pulled her close. “You are phenomenal.”
The restaurant wasn’t crowded, and we slipped into a table outside, the air heavy with garlic and spice, sunlight draping itself across the pavement.
“I want those noodles again,” Sorsha said, her eyes already scanning the menu studiously.
“They’re still the best thing here,” I said, picturing the glossy broth and tangled strands before the waiter even appeared.
I placed our order and, for the first time since Gordo’s visit, felt myself begin to relax. But her thoughts weren’t far from the Don.
“Maybe he won’t come,” she said hopefully.
“No chance of that. He’s making me wait deliberately.”
“What if he’s a berserker?”
“It only counts if he can kill me.”
She shook her head, stricken. “Please don’t say things like that.”
I grinned. “Relax, I’m pretty good. But remember what I told you…”
“Stay far away, yes, I got it.”
Our noodles came, and we ate—though Sorsha only pushed hers around. She’d been like this ever since Gordo’s visit.
“Eat, you need your strength.”
“It’s like I have this weight sitting on my chest,” she whispered, her chin wobbling. “I can’t swallow.”
Her candid response elated me, though I only nodded in commiseration. She cared for me—unmistakably, achingly so. Yet the thrill of knowing it tangled with guilt, because it was my world, that laid that weight across her chest.
I grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. “Let’s go home. With luck, by the weekend this will all be done and dusted.”
Sorsha’s steps faltered as we walked, slower and slower. I understood—we’d both be waiting on tenterhooks until this man finally showed. The thought alone spiked my anger, and I leaned down, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.
When the forge came into sight, a flicker of unease ran through me. I was certain I’d closed the door between the forge and the backyard. Or had it blown open?
At the threshold, I caught sight of him on the porch and froze. Instinct slammed into me, and I gripped the doorframe to block Sorsha’s view.
The Don lounged there as though he owned the place, a wiry fellow with dark, beady eyes that glittered with malice. Even before he moved, I felt it in my gut—this man was a berserker.
One chick lay dead at his feet, its tiny body crumpled, while he toyed with another in his hand. He looked up at me and smiled, slow and cruel, before tightening his fingers.
Rage detonated inside me, scorching hot, every muscle howling to rip him apart with my bare hands.
The chick gave a thin, panicked squeak, and my vision tunneled—red at the edges, the berserker in me clawing to be let loose, impossible to beat back.
Sorsha ducked beneath my arm, horror etched across her face as she beheld the tiny life crushed in that brute’s fist.
She gasped, stricken to see such cruelty visited on something so defenseless, her instinct to save overwhelming every shred of caution.
But I couldn’t focus on that. I seized her arm and wrenched her out of the Don’s reach. She landed with a soft cry, the Don’s eyes snapping to her before he rose to his feet, grin widening as his gaze slid over her.
“That’s a pretty wife you’ve got there. Pretty things break so easily.”
My vision snapped red, and the berserker took me. My muscles bunched, ready to launch, my body no longer mine but a weapon straining to be swung. The Don’s grin blurred into a target, and I surged toward him—until Sorsha’s plea cut through.
The haze cracked, a splinter of clarity piercing through. With a shudder that rattled my bones, I dragged myself back, forcing the berserker down, beating it into submission, though the fire still burned like molten iron in my veins.
I lifted my fist, then slowly curled my fingers, daring him—come on, attack.