With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(157)

He started to get suspicious then he started to get dubious and this melted straight into extremely annoyed.

Luckily Calder turned up the third week and Callum lost interest in her as he holed himself up with the boys in his study. But this still left the nights for Sonia to find ways to fend off his hands, his mouth and his quiet, gentle, sweet bedtime interrogations (but getting less gentle and less quiet and definitely less sweet).

Just last night, quiet, gentle and sweet went out the window.

Sonia was in bed reading (again) when Callum hit the room.

He didn’t smile at her when he walked in.

Considering it was 8:30, he stopped two feet in, crossed his arms on his chest, frowned ominously and stared at her in bed.

“It’s 8:30,” he informed her.

Sonia tensed and decided not to look at him anymore because he was freaking her out. Therefore, she looked back at her book.

“This is a really good book,” she told him (though it wasn’t). “I’ve been waiting all day for an excuse to get back to it.” (Though she hadn’t).

Suddenly her book was pulled from her hands and her eyes automatically and irritably shot back to him.

“There’s the small matter of your injection,” he clipped and she closed her eyes and looked away.

She hated those injections always but told herself they were a necessary evil.

Now, they were pure torture with Callum giving them to her and Sonia emerging from the burn always wrapped lovingly (but insincerely) in his arms.

She opened her eyes when she felt the bed depress with his weight, his fingers sliding into the side of her hair and she saw him sitting beside her on the bed.

His anger was gone, the gentle look was back and he murmured, “Two minutes, baby doll, then it’s done.”

“I hate those injections,” she whispered and his fingers flexed in her hair.

“I do too,” he agreed.

He gave her the injection, led her back to bed and threw the hides back. She started climbing in but he stopped her, turned her to face him and then his hands bunched the material of her nightgown at her h*ps and, whoosh, it was gone.

“Hey!” she cried, shocked at his actions.

“Now your pants,” he ordered.

Sonia was covering her br**sts with her arms and she looked in confusion, as she was not keeping up, down at her underwear.

Then she looked up at him. “You mean my undies?”

“Off,” he demanded, leaning in and hooking his thumbs in the waistband.

“Callum!” she shrieked but her panties were already at her ankles and he was lifting her up so she repeated, “Callum!”

Like she didn’t utter a word (or, in this case, shriek his name twice) he placed her in bed and pulled the hides over her.

Sonia got up on an elbow and Callum sat on the edge, leaning into the hand that he’d planted in the bed behind her.

“I thought I told you I wanted you na**d when you don’t have to wear clothes,” he declared calmly.

She glared at him. “I’m not comfortable sleeping naked.”

His brows drew together. “It didn’t seem to bother you before you found out I was wolf.”

This was true but only because, by the time he let her sleep, she was already naked, exhausted and slept the sleep of abandoned contentment.

Now they weren’t having sex, were never going to have sex again, so she wanted to wear a nightgown.

As she didn’t feel like getting into that particular subject at that time, she just glared at him.

He absorbed her glare for a while then reached out, grabbed her book and handed it to her.

“I’ll be back soon,” he muttered, leaned down, kissed her temple and then walked from the room.

Without him to glare at, Sonia glared at the door instead.

Then she got up, put her undies and nightgown back on and got back into bed.

Callum could do a lot of things, considering he was king.

But he could not tell her what to wear to bed.

She was dead asleep when she felt her body move and she didn’t tell it to do so.

Then she felt her nightgown sliding up, up and, whoosh, it was gone.

Her eyes opened and she stared groggily at Callum who was in the process of pulling her panties down her legs. Then, whoosh, they were gone too.

“What…?” she whispered but wasn’t awake enough to get her brain functioning.

He lay on his back, pulling the hides over them and yanking her roughly in his arms.

“Did you… did you just do that?” she asked his chest, her mind still fuzzy with sleep.

“I did,” he answered calmly.

“I… I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispered.

“Believe it,” he replied.

“Why did you just do that?” she queried.

“Tomorrow,” was his strange response.

“Tomorrow?”

He rolled into her so they were face-to-face.

“I’m too f**king pissed right now to have this conversation, Sonia,” he informed her, sounding pissed. Sounding downright mad. “But tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we’re f**king talking,” he finished.

In the face of his anger, Sonia thought it was prudent not to say anything further.

So she didn’t.

He rolled to his back again, taking her with him so her head was on his shoulder. Then he hauled her arm around him so it was resting across his stomach and his arm, curled at her waist, tightened so she was pressed into him close.