With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(156)

She planted her forearms in his massive chest and lifted up to watch him laugh.

She told herself it was clinically (when it was not) that she noted he was unbelievably handsome when he laughed and therefore, since she was like a scientist observing nature, she could watch him do it.

When he got control of himself, he informed her, “There is no such thing as Frankenstein.”

“I trust you.” And that wasn’t a total lie.

She didn’t trust him, trust him but she trusted, with his statement, he was telling the truth and he, of all people, would know.

“Would you go?” he asked.

“What?” she asked back.

He grinned. “To a barbeque at Frankenstein’s house.”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “What do Frankensteins serve at barbeques?”

He roared with laughter again and, with a hand cupping the back of her head, he forced her down so her arms had to slide out and around him and he pressed her face into his neck.

Then he took her hair in his big fist and wrapped it into a rope again, coiling it around his palm.

“I f**king love your hair,” he murmured and she forced her body to stay relaxed.

Because that was a lie. He hated blondes.

That was, supposedly, until recently.

“I was thinking of cutting it,” she lied yet again just to be mean.

His fist tightened in her hair and he decreed, “I’ll not allow that.”

She bit back a, “Yes, your grace,” and stayed silent.

He used her own hair to rub against her jaw when he whispered, “Are you happy, little one?”

It was an odd, endearing and unbelievably poignant question and, furthermore, he sounded like he cared about her answer.

She felt the sting of tears in her sinuses again but with effort, she controlled them.

Then she sighed and stated, “Well, I guess a girl could do better than a fairytale castle in a beautiful wood with a handsome wolf as her husband who happens to be king, making her queen of a kind and loving people who think good things about her… but I don’t know how.”

Except, of course, having that king love his queen beyond anything in the whole world, like Lucien loved Leah and like Regan loved Mac and like Mara loved Drogan.

Or like Sonia’s father loved her mother.

Or even a little of what they had.

Not knowing her thoughts, at her words, he released her hair and his arms wound around her. For the first time since she was injured, they did this powerfully, crushing her to him and making that twinge of pain in her back magnify.

“I’m glad,” he said and his voice sounded strangely hoarse.

“Callum, my back,” she whispered.

His hold loosened and he slid her off his side but kept her close with an arm about her waist. He reached and turned out the light, settled her with her cheek on his shoulder and he pulled her arm around his stomach.

“Sleep,” he murmured.

“Okay,” she murmured back.

He gave her a squeeze.

Her sinuses started stinging again because it hurt so much, more than she thought she could endure, wanting him to be real and knowing he was not.

But, somehow, she fell asleep.

Much later, she woke sensing him gone. She laid awake until he returned and he slid into bed at her side, his skin cold when he tucked her into him but he, again, smelled of sex.

And her broken heart broke just that little bit more.

* * * * *

The next two weeks Callum’s patience waned considerably, more and more each day.

First, he wasn’t Gregor’s biggest fan and Gregor had made it a habit to monopolize any time not taken by Regan, Ryon, Caleb, Mara, Callista and wolves from town who had, at Regan, Mara and Callista’s invitations, begun to drop by to meet and get to know Sonia.

Therefore, Sonia didn’t spend hardly any time in Callum’s lap in his study or with Callum anywhere. Practically the minute she sat there, Gregor was at the door asking if she wanted to go into town, if she wanted to go for a walk, telling her Yuri was on the phone and wanted to speak to her and the like.

Second, Callum wasn’t buying the “I’m in pain” excuse anymore considering she was going into town and taking walks but also he was seeing firsthand that her wounds were healing well. Even if he hadn’t seen it, Orphenon popping by to have a look deep into week three and announcing they were healing surprisingly rapidly gave it away. Sonia had always been a quick healer and she had the freakish capacity never to scar and she wondered if this was part of her gifts but she never mentioned it to anyone and didn’t, for obvious reasons, then either. In fact, Orphenon had clipped away the stitches which kind of hurt and left her feeling a bit raw which Callum, upon examining her face closely, believed because she was for once telling the truth.

Third, because Callum was beginning to get frustrated that Sonia was finding the willpower to fight back the urge.

Deep into the second week he made it obvious he wanted “to play”. But why he wanted to play when two or three times a week he disappeared from their bed in the middle of the night and came back obviously having been outside and smelling of that intense and beautiful musk he always smelled like after they’d finished, she would never know.

Sonia had put him off both morning and night and some afternoons besides with a variety of excuses which were wearing thin.