Twenty-Five
Kallie
I am…and so much more. Belladonna’s last words play curiously over and over again as we say our goodbyes, and they follow me until Callum and I leave the shop. Vaguely, I remember giving Benny a hug and making him a promise to stop by tomorrow for a forest bun.
The moon is high in the sky, shining down on the town I desperately want to explore, see the shops and the critters, and maybe even talk to the people—if I’m feeling adventurous.
But that seems like something to tackle tomorrow. Right now, the only thing on my to-do list is taking a shower. Then it hits me. “Where am I staying?” It seems like a stupid thing to worry about after everything that’s happened, but it never crossed my mind until now.
“With me,” he says definitively.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, really? And where did you think you were going to be staying?”
“I hadn’t really thought of it until now, but I think I would rather take my chances with Benny and Donni.”
“That won’t be happening.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I’m not comfortable rooming with a psycho stalker?”
“Have I ever done anything to threaten you? To make you think you couldn’t trust me?”
His questions rattle in my throbbing head as I consider what he’s saying. In reality, he has helped me, protected me when I needed to be, but the thought of being alone with him for who knows how long, in a town—or rather, a realm — where I don’t know anyone sends a wave of panic through me.
“I’m not staying with you.”
“Yes, you are,” he growls through gritted teeth.
“You can’t make me. What are you gonna do? Throw me over your shoulder like a caveman?”
“We both know I could.”
“Don’t you dare.” A smirk plays along his lips, and before I know it, wind swirls behind me, pulling the night into itself, creating a smaller-looking portal than the one we went through before. He places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me back. I lose my balance, and in a split second, my surroundings waver, and my ass hits the floor.
Callum lazily steps through and walks right past me, his footsteps receding until the room goes quiet. The portal vanishes before my eyes, swallowing itself up, leaving me to stare at the room.
A fireplace stares back at me, and black brick expands on each side before hitting the bookshelves lining the rest of the wall. A gray marble mantel rests on top of the fireplace with the most intricate painting. A large rug rests beneath me, a design I can’t make out in the dim light. A small couch with ended tables flanking either side make up the rest of the room.
“To answer your question, no. I will not be throwing you over my shoulder like a caveman,” he retorts, sounding far away.
“This is your home?”
“Obviously.” I jerk as his words leave a tingle on the back of my neck. How the hell does he do that? Someone that big should not be able to move so quietly. It’s unnerving. “So, about that shower?” I inquire.
He doesn’t say anything, instead just starts walking through the house. Taking that as a hint, I follow. It’s not as big as I would have thought. The kitchen is a reasonable size, just off the living room. We go down a hallway that is lined with a wall of windows. The view is breathtaking. Forest for miles, his house sits on the top of a cliff, creating a perfect scenery of the moon and stars in the sky and nature at its feet.
“Come, there is a better view from the bedroom balcony.” His voice startles me. I was so lost in the beauty I forgot he was even here. Wordlessly, I nod, and we continue down the hallway, which strangely only has two doors—one to my right and one at the end of the hall. Curious, I reach out and grab the knob. Surely this must be a guest room. Just before I make contact, a shadow lashes at me, wrapping around my wrist and yanking it away.
“No, I don’t have a guest room. I haven’t had a need for one. As you can imagine, I don’t get many visitors.”
“What did you just say?”
“I don’t get many visitors. And don’t go in that room.” The command is stern, leaving no room for objections.
“What’s in there?” I question anyway.
“Nothing of your concern. This way.” Before I can protest, he drags me down the rest of the hall by my arm.
“Let go of me!”
“Stop struggling.”
“Yeah, okay,” I reply, continuing to struggle against the constraint. I give up after a few unsuccessful attempts. On the opposite wall of the windows, I notice there’s nothing on it. No pictures, no art. Nothing. He releases me and opens the door, waiting for me to go in first.
This feels like a trap. But what’s the worst that could happen? I get locked in a room with a shower and bed? I’ve been in worse situations. An audible gasp escapes me as I take in the room. The ceiling is like a dome, completely covered in windows, only moonlight lighting up the space. Stars twinkle above, and I see the faint silhouette of what I assume is a really, really big bird flying overhead.
A bed on the far wall, covered in black silk sheets, sits on a standard black bed frame. Does this guy know there are other colors out there? From nothing, the fireplace next to me ignites, showcasing the mural painting above the bed. Shades of green, blue, orange, black, and white swirl together, creating an image my tired eyes can’t make out.
“What is it?” I ask, still admiring the art piece.
“I’ll tell you another time. The bathroom is to the right, and the balcony to the left. I’ll be out here if you need me.”
He shuts the door softly, and I rush to the bathroom. I’ve never been so excited for a shower. I’m nearly foaming at the mouth. Getting the water going was a bit tricky—why is that always an issue? Showers generally work the same, and yet, they’re all different. I digress. My bloody clothes stick to me, and I have to peel them off like a layer of skin. They hit the dark-gray tile with a smack right before I pull open the glass door and step into the shower.
The heat from the water makes me wince slightly before my muscles relax. I stand under the stream, unable to move, completely paralyzed in place while I let the gravity of everything sink in. It’s not until I’m sitting on the floor, letting the water wash over me, that I let myself cry. One thing after another hits me, and I’m finally able to let it out. I watch the slightly tinged murky water rush down the drain.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Five minutes. That’s the only time I allow myself to feel bad, to sulk in the magnitude of the day and what else this will bring. Five minutes to mourn the life I had, even if it was mediocre at best—it was all I knew. The tears are for my dad and Kate. They must be killing themselves with worry.
This is so messed up. All of it. Never once have I wished for a nightmare, but I find myself hoping I’ve found myself in one. Alright, five minutes are up.
I wash my hair three times before I’m satisfied that whatever grossness was stuck in there is truly gone. Well, that’s part of it. All that’s in here is strange unlabeled bottles and I plan to rectify that first thing tomorrow. My hair simply won’t survive. The body wash instantly hits me with the smell of him. Eucalyptus. Putting a generous amount on a washcloth I grabbed from the shelf just inside the door, I take a few extra minutes and inhale the divine scent. I scrub and scrub and scrub until every inch of my skin has been cleaned three times. Even then, I can still feel the dried blood that was crusted, the dirt, grime, and sweat that was stuck to me like glue.
After I’m somewhat satisfied, I stand under the stream until my fingers prune and let the water run cold. I shut it off and wring out my hair before stepping out.
Snagging the towel off the rack, I dry myself off rather quickly, grateful the steam has fogged up the mirror. I don’t think I have the strength to see myself and not recognize the person staring back.
Shit. I forgot to grab clothes. Well, Callum should be elsewhere anyway. It’ll be fine. I wrap the towel around me and begrudgingly go back out into the bedroom. The fire gives a soft glow throughout the room, and the moon and stars shining above make the scene truly captivating. Lost in my own thoughts, I don’t notice the door gliding open or Callum standing in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I screech, jumping back in surprise, gripping the towel and pulling it tighter. He just stands there, eyes roaming every inch of my body. My skin prickles with goosebumps with every trace of his gaze. His body goes completely rigid, aside from his hands balling into fists at his sides, and his chest moves up and down with uneven breaths.
I snap my fingers. “Hello, Earth to Callum.” His eyes shoot up to meet mine, as if he didn’t realize what he was doing, like he was in a trance that only my voice could break him out of.
“I was just coming to check on you. You were in there for a long time,” he stammers.
“Yeah, well, I like hot showers.”
“I know.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he says it.
My pulse quickens, beating so loud that it drowns out all other thoughts until I’m only thinking of what would happen if he stepped closer. How it would feel if he brushed his fingers over me, if he feathered kisses on every inch of my skin. Would I stop him? The way he looks at me is predatory, like he’s a lion, and I’m a gazelle that just stepped into his territory. His lips peel back in a wide-mouth grin as the image runs through my mind.
“Right, okay, so I’m naked, and you’re just standing there, so can you get the fuck out?” I don’t like the way my body is reacting. I need him to leave before I do something I might regret.
“Would you rather I be doing something else?” he questions.
“I— I think you should go. I’ll be out in a minute—after I find some jammies.”
“I think what you have on is fine.” Damn that sultry voice of his.
“Do you have anything I can wear?”
“If I said no?” he inquires but doesn’t make any attempts to move any closer.
“I would say you’re a liar.”
He chuckles at that, such a foreign sound coming from him, and it makes my eyes widen in shock.
“Help yourself to whatever you find in the closet.” He gestures to the door next to the bathroom.
“Thanks, I’ll do that,” I say, waiting for him to exit like a gentleman.
“I never claimed to be a gentleman, Princess.”
“Okay, the jig is up. How do you do that?” I inquire. Either he’s really good at reading people, or he can read my fucking mind.
“Tomorrow, when your training begins. Now go get dressed. I only have so much restraint.” He slowly turns around, a shadow whisking out to close the door behind him.
I close my eyes and let out a long exhale after the door clicks shut. Goddess, what’s wrong with me? I need to get it together, distance myself until whatever my body is feeling can calm the fuck down.
I pad over to the closet and push the door open. Instantly, my senses are overcome by his scent. I snag a black t-shirt off the hanger, let the towel drop, and put it on. The hem of the shirt hits just below my knees, draping over me like a rucksack. I start opening drawers to find some sweatpants, drawer after drawer and nothing. Finally, the last drawer has four pairs of gray sweatpants. Typical. My eyes roll so far I’m surprised they didn’t get stuck, but still I grab a pair. They immediately fall off my hips, so I tie the drawstring as tight as it will go and roll the waistband twice.
It’s better than nothing, I guess.
Throwing the towel back in the bathroom, I venture back out, suddenly desperate for a glass of water.
Immediately, I find myself drawn to the wall of windows again. I wonder what it would feel like to soar in the night sky, let the wind brush against me, and finally feel free. The same winged creature from before zips in the sky, too fast to make out any distinctions. I battle two halves, one wanting to explore more, see what lurks in the darkness, and the other wants to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
The latter wins.
There’s already a glass filled with water waiting for me when I enter the kitchen. Alongside it is a plate full of chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight. Not wasting any time, I don’t look for Callum. He can find me if he wants. This may even be his food, but I don’t give a fuck. I inhale the food, and a moan slips free as the flavors dance over my tastebuds.
This has got to be the best meal I’ve ever had. With a mouthful of food, I finally notice Callum lounging on the couch. Caught off guard, I start choking, coughing like a maniac, and try to flush it down with another glass of water. One of his hands is behind his head, watching me shovel food into my mouth like I haven’t been fed in a month.
“Did you make this?” I ask when most of the food is gone.
“I did. That’s why I came in there to get you. If it’s cold, I can heat it up for you,” he offers.
“It’s not like there’s much left to heat up if I did.” I would lick the fucking plate clean if he wasn’t watching. I still might.
He chuckles, bringing his eyes back to the book resting on his lap. Huh, a chef and a scholar, who would have thought. I scarf down the remaining chicken, place the plate in the sink, and drink another glass of water before setting that in there as well.
“Where am I sleeping?”
“The bed. Where else?” And we’re right back to the condescending attitude.
“Where will you sleep?”
“The bed.” Confused, I look around, thinking I may have missed another room somewhere.
“No, no, no, no. That’s not happening.”
“Well, I certainly won’t fit on the couch, and my mother and father would have my head if they found out I made you sleep there. That leaves one option, Princess.” He closes the book and puts it on the end table.
Sharing a house is one thing, but a bed? He has to be joking.
“Does this face look like I’m joking?”
“How the fuc—”
“I’m going to bed,” he interrupts, “and so are you. And just so we’re clear. You don’t have to worry about me touching you in the night. I would appreciate the same courtesy.” He brushes past me, leaving me standing in the living room, feeling completely exposed.