Chapter 9
nine
CALLUM
Kat looked exhausted but hopeful when her meeting in the kitchen came to an end.
It had taken calling in the bargain Elle owed me to secure the woman’s help, but my mate didn't need to know that. The Werewolf Café was obviously important to my mate. She had been willing to sell her soul to make it succeed.
If that success changed, she would inevitably blame herself, which was unacceptable to me. On top of that, she would be devastated to watch it fall.
If a siren businesswoman was what it took to make sure her cafes continued spreading and succeeding, while also providing her more time, that was what I would get her.
My eyes trailed over the curve of her ass as she made herself a large cup of coffee.
We needed to get going, but I didn't particularly care if we were late.
Pissing off a few more members of the Cabinet wasn't the end of the world.
I was already on everyone's bad side. They didn’t answer to me because of love. Fear was responsible for that.
I was only the public leader of the Cabinet, anyway. We all knew Merrily was really in charge.
"Want a cup?" Kat asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.
She looked a little dazed from the meeting, which I was fairly confident was the only reason she was offering.
I considered it a good sign anyway. She would accept that we were going to be sharing our lives soon. She would have to.
"Sure." Coffee wasn't something I particularly enjoyed, but she enjoyed it, so I'd trained myself not to hate the bitter beverage in the years we’d spent apart.
"What's your drink of choice?"
"You won't like the answer."
Her lips curved slightly. "You stalked me closely enough to know what drinks I prefer?"
"There were a handful of articles about your favorite drinks. Two of them are still on the menu at a few of your locations."
She looked surprised for a moment, but recovered quickly. "Let me guess, you take it with as little actual coffee as possible?"
"You guess correctly."
"Any preference on the flavors? I saw the syrups in your fridge?"
"I don’t like hazelnut, but I’m fine with anything else."
I watched her work from my chair. The sway of her hips and slight bounce in her step was hypnotic.
My cock ached for her long before she slid me a steaming mug.
The pain in my hands, arms, and chest flared, forcing me to stay completely still in an attempt to get it under control rather than pick up the cup.
"I figure you don't take it iced like I do. Seems like you have enough cold in your life," she said, not seeming to notice my stillness.
"Without question."
"Does it get old?"
"I was tired of the pain before I was old enough to understand why I felt it."
"And the cold?"
"It’s easier to cope with, but not enjoyable."
"Why aren't any of the other royals mated yet, if you all deal with stuff like this?" She gestured toward me, clearly talking about my magic. "If you can find someone like me who could reduce the impact of your magic, couldn’t they do the same?"
A full answer to that question would require a conversation I wasn’t ready to have yet.
"Immortality is a long time to spend with someone, and finding a person who affects us the way you affect me is both rare and individualized." It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie.
"Why does my touch stop your pain?"
I said nothing.
There was no way to answer the question without straight-up lying to her, and I wasn’t interested in that. After the mate bond was sealed, I would have no choice but to tell her the truth.
"Were you looking for a mate?" she asked.
"Since I was old enough to understand what it would mean for me."
"Is your pain really that bad?"
"I suppose there’s no way to compare it to anyone else’s, but for me, yes."
"Can you do it to me?"
"Can I do what to you, Kitten?"
"Show me what it feels like."
"No. I will never use my magic to hurt you." My response was sharp.
"What if I ask really nicely?"
"No."
"What if Sable asks?"
I lifted the drink she'd made to my lips and took a slow sip. "Still no."
She glanced at the clock. "I thought we were supposed to leave at three."
"We are."
"That's in five minutes. We need to get going."
Her coffee cup was still full.
I gave her more time. "It doesn't start until four, and the drive out to the pit is only twenty minutes. We don't need to rush."
She studied me. "You know a lot about werewolf culture. Most other magical beings wouldn't know that the competitions are held there."
"I was invited to watch, considering I killed the last Beta. Your beloved sister wouldn’t want to risk me killing the next one immediately after she chooses them. Safer to let me take them out during the challenges." I sipped the drink again.
It was delicious, but she knew that. I'd seen her taste it before sliding it over.
"Why did you kill Simon?"
"He hurt you." It was true, though not the full truth.
"Not physically, and that was a long time ago."
"Pain is pain, regardless of the form. You haven’t made up with Gwen, so it’s clearly still affecting you."
She dodged my comment about her sister. "You didn’t answer my question about werewolf culture, Callum."
"I told you, I knew you would be mine since the first night we met. Why wouldn't I learn about werewolf culture?"
"Because you're an immortal asshat who doesn't care about anything but yourself?"
"I’m flattered, Kitten."
"We should get going. Unless you’re uncomfortable with your mate showing up to an event this casually, since you look like that." She gestured toward me.
"Another insult? You’re full of kind words for me today."
"That one wasn’t an attack. Obviously, you know you look good. I’d have to wear some kind of a dress to look like I belonged next to you, which is never going to happen. That’s part of the reason I thought you were screwing Elle."
"Because of her clothing?"
"Because she looks perfect, just like you."
"Kitten, I take extreme offense to the implications you are very close to making. Don’t even fucking think about insulting yourself in front of me. We dress differently. That doesn’t matter."
"Of course it matters. People are going to talk. Would it kill you to wear jeans or something?"
I sipped my coffee again. "I’m not comfortable wearing casual clothing to a public event."
"Why not?"
I didn’t respond.
A story about my mother’s strictness wouldn’t exactly lighten the mood, or lead to anything other than her pity. Which was the last thing I was interested in.
"You’re such a pain, Callum."
"That is my specialty."
She rolled her eyes. "At least take the coat off. We're supposed to be selling the story that we’re engaged after years of dating. You would be comfortable enough not to wear a suit around me, at the very least, if that was true."
I supposed that was a fair point. "Fine." I set my mug down and removed my coat slowly, trying to avoid triggering the pain. It failed, as it always did, but I ignored it as well as I could.
"Actually, we might have another problem." Her words were quieter, her gaze glued to me as I set the coat on the island.
She was watching me so closely that I went ahead and rolled the sleeves of my button-up just to keep her eyes on me.
There weren’t words to describe how much I wanted her to need me as much as I needed her.
"What would that be?" I asked.
"As soon as any other shifters smell us together, they're going to realize the story is bullshit. We're not affectionate, and we don't smell like sex."
"There's an easy way to fix that."
"I'm not fucking you. You're using our bargain to force me to mate with you, and you keep ordering me around. It may not seem like it when I go into heat, but I have boundaries."
"I didn't suggest that."
"What other way is there to fix it?"
I stood up.
She eyed me warily.
I hoped that eventually, the woman would trust me to take care of her.
I crossed the kitchen, placing my hands on her waist. Her top was short enough that I could touch a strip of her skin, and the moment we were in physical contact, my pain vanished.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Fixing it." I hauled her up onto the countertop.
Her eyes were hot as they followed me to my knees in front of her. "We're supposed to be driving right now."
"We'll go when we're ready." I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her shorts, holding her gaze to give her time to push me away.
She bit her lip, but after a long few seconds, lifted her ass off the countertop to help me strip her. "Only to make people believe the story."
I peeled the fabric down those thick, sexy thighs. "Alright, Kitten."
"That wasn't convincing," she breathed, when I leaned my mouth to her center and inhaled her scent.
Fuck, she smelled good.
She was slick for me, too, even if she wouldn't have admitted it.
"Do you need to be convinced?" I dragged the tip of my tongue lightly over the swollen bud between her thighs. Her breath hitched, her hips arching toward me. I pulled her closer to the countertop's edge, like she so clearly wanted.
She buried her fingers in my hair and tugged my face back to her core. "Stop teasing me. You're running out of time."
"Now you're threatening me again."
This woman was fucking perfect.
"Callum, you have five minutes. Either get me off or walk away." The fingers she still had buried in my hair told me which she preferred.
I opened her thighs wider and circled her clit with my tongue a little harder. The soft, desperate sounds escaping her had me repeating the motion again, slower.
She moaned, pulling my hair harder. For once, I didn’t mind the pain at all.
She was fucking delicious.
And she was mine.
I devoured her until she was coming on my face, arching, swearing, and crying out in pleasure.
"We have to stop," she groaned, when I didn’t pull away.
I was nowhere near done with her. Not even close.
"We'll skip it."