Chapter 23
Callum
The door shuts with a soft thud behind us, but to me, it hits like thunder crackin’ through a tomb.
He fuckin’ kissed her.
That fecker kissed her.
Aye, maybe just the cheek. Maybe she didn’t want it. Maybe she’ll never let him near her again.
Still. He kissed her.
And all I saw was red. Still do. It stains the corners of me vision, gnaws at me gut.
She steps through the safehouse, boots quiet on the worn floorboards.
Taking a look around—the plain walls, the old armchair, the silence.
Feels like peace wrapped in a cabin. She doesn’t say a word.
Doesn’t need to. Her very presence… calms somethin’ feral in me.
But the fire’s still there, burnin’ underneath it all.
I follow, slow-like. Me fists clench at me sides. Not ‘cause of her—never her—but ‘cause I want to rip that bastard limb from limb.
She turns, eyes roamin’, takin’ it all in. She looks like she belongs here. Like this place’s been waitin’ for her.
God above.
She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
I reach for her hand, gentle as I can. Thumb trails over her knuckles. She looks up, eyes searchin’ mine, like she’s tryin’ to find the monster and the man in the same breath.
“Sera,” I rasp, voice low, rough. “I want ya to be mine. Mine alone.”
She blinks, lips partin’ just a touch. “What do you mean by that?”
I step closer. No hesitation.
“I mean no other man lays a bloody hand on ya. No one dances with ya. No one kisses ya. Not ever.” Me voice drops, tight and gruff.
“They can look all they feckin’ want, but touch?
Nah. You’re not some pretty little passin’ fancy.
You’re everythin’. I want to stand beside ya.
Not in front. Not behind. Right by yer side. Always.”
She looks at me, that fire still burnin’ in her gaze.
“I want to see ya fierce. Want to teach ya to fight back. Protect yerself. I don’t want ya to need me, Sera…” I pause, breath catchin’. “I want ya to want me.”
Her stare softens. There’s heat, but not just lust—it’s somethin’ else. Somethin’ real.
“And Damon?” she says, quiet but pointed.
“I’m gonna kill the bastard.”
She draws a breath—sharp—but she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t turn away. She knows what I am.
“Are you sure you want to do it that quickly?”
“Aye.” I nod once. “He’s a feckin’ puppet. Nothin’ more. Rippin’ his strings won’t just stop him—it’ll set the rest of ‘em fallin’ apart.”
I keep stroked her hand, thumb movin’ slow.
“I’ll make it clean. Professional. I’ll send Dominic the proof myself. Make it look like an old grudge finally caught up with Damon. That way, yer da won’t start sniffin’ around.”
She’s silent a moment. Then steps into me, fingers slippin’ ‘round the back of me neck. Warm. Real.
“Callum…” she breathes.
I press into her touch. “Aye, mo chroí?”
She rises up, lips barely brushin’ mine. “I want you to possess me. I want you by my side as we burn this world to the ground.”
And just like that—me control snaps.
I grip her hips, then lower, liftin’ her like she’s always meant to be wrapped around me. Her legs lock round me waist. Her mouth crashes into mine—urgent, wild, starvin’.
She tastes like fate.
I carry her to the bed, cock straining ‘gainst me jeans, but I stop when we get there. She’s not some quick fix for me rage.
She’s a feckin’ revelation.
I set her down gentle, foreheads pressin’ close.
“Tell me I can have ya,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “Need to hear it, Sera. Let me worship ya.”
Her breath shivers. “Yes, Callum. Please take me. I want you to take me.”
A groan rips from deep in me chest.
I lift her again, slower this time, and lay her down like she’s sacred. I strip off me shirt—one button at a time—her eyes never leavin’ me.
She’s pantin’ now. Wantin’.
I drop me jeans. Push down me briefs.
Her gaze lands on me cock, eyes goin’ wide as she licks her lips.
“Feckin’ hell,” I growl.
I stroke meself once, slow, crawlin’ over the bed. She meets me halfway. And I undress her—bit by bloody bit.
Blouse first. The one he touched.
I toss it aside. “Burnin’ that one,” I mutter.
She laughs, breathy and wicked.
The sound dies on her lips as I kiss down her neck, suck her nipple through lace ‘til she moans—pure music to me ears.
Her trousers, gone. Knickers too.
She’s bare. And Christ almighty, she’s perfect.
Still—I pause.
“Ya sure, love?”
She nods, eyes glitterin’.
That’s all I need.
I slide down between her thighs. Kiss her inner thigh. Then taste her.
Sweet mother of mercy.
I groan, hold her hips tight, and bury me tongue deep.
She gasps, writhes, clutches the sheets.
Right before she tips over the edge, I pause—mouth hoverin’ over her clit.
“When ya moan, mo chroí,” I murmur, “make sure it’s me name spillin’ out.”
Then I feast.
Her cries echo off the walls. When she comes, she screams for me, and I don’t stop ‘til she’s shakin’ like a leaf in me arms.
I rise up, lickin’ her taste from me lips.
“Yer no delicate flower,” I say. “Yer a queen. And I’ll be the first bastard to kneel for ya.”
I bare her completely. Then press the tip of me cock to her entrance.
I kiss her, deep, possessive—then push in.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I groan. “ Sera… so fuckin’ tight.”
I bury meself inch by inch. When I’m fully in, I wait. Let her feel it.
She shifts—silent permission—and I start movin’. Not rough. Not rushed.
But deep. Solid. Lastin’.
I kiss her again. Whisper against her lips.
“They’ve no clue what’s comin’, love. We’ll be the storm they fear. You’ll lead. And I’ll follow you anywhere.”
I thrust harder, voice guttural. “You’re mine, Seraphina.”
Her moans rise, frantic now.
“Yes… fuck, Callum… I’m yours!”
I reach between us, thumb on her clit. Her whole body tightens.
“I want to fill ya,” I growl. “Let me claim ya, mo shíorghra.”
“Please,” she gasps. “Please, Callum. Fill me.”
And I do.
Together, we fall.
A bond forged in fire.
Unbreakable.