With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(21)

Her sultry, teasing, inviting demeanor this morning, her unbridled response to his kiss, his thigh, his touch, he thought proved that.

Her hideously healthy, unappealing breakfast and subsequent behavior had, however, eradicated it.

Callum couldn’t imagine why fate had linked her to him.

She was beautiful, there was no doubting that. As he read her reports and saw the pictures of her, they stirred him. He was a man but he was especially a wolf. He’d have to be dead for her pictures not to affect him.

It was vaguely alarming, however, the colorless life she led. Hell, even her house was painted light gray. But when his brethren welcomed her with open arms, Callum hoped she’d blossom under their adulation.

Even so, he had to admit under normal circumstances, outside of noting her beauty, she’d not tempt him and when wolves met their mates, this was not only unusual, it was unprecedented.

He’d taken more than his fair share of humans, it wasn’t that.

It was that he didn’t fancy blondes.

He also didn’t fancy skinny women.

She was not as thin as some humans starved and exercised themselves to be, this was true, but she was definitely not as curvy as a she-wolf or the humans he’d chosen.

And he detested talk of healthy food, fat, cholesterol and anything of the like. He wasn’t attracted to women who counted every calorie, sauntered around on high heels and wore expensive, designer gear. He also wasn’t attracted to women who over-groomed, making it their ridiculous mission to have perfect hair, makeup and nails. This did nothing for him. Callum held in contempt the very idea of wasting precious life engaged in dieting and primping. He held even more contempt for the women who engaged in these pursuits as Sonia, he knew from the reports, not to mention her perfect nails, hair and skin, did.

In the rare times he was not performing his duties or engaged in war, he preferred to be transformed to wolf, running outdoors. Or doing anything outdoors for that matter, preferably in a wood. Or getting drunk on real ale or whisky with his brethren. Or eating enormous, home-cooked meals. Or bedding a female human or wolf who not only knew how to play but f**king well enjoyed it and was willing to give herself over to him so he could meet her needs but also so he could assuage the hungry force of his own.

Not drinking martinis at elegant gathering places, shopping or partaking of miniscule servings of haute cuisine.

And Sonia Arlington looked, acted and it was reported that she was a woman who preferred to engage in the latter.

Nevertheless, they were connected. Even as he wondered at it, he felt it stir in his blood, in his gut and, this morning, she’d given him a very slim hope that perhaps there was something more to Sonia Arlington.

He approached her chair and crouched by the side.

She didn’t move from her contemplation of the snowfall.

“Sonia,” he called softly and her head turned.

She was no longer crying but he saw the tracks the tears left through her makeup. She hadn’t even wiped them away.

He felt a strange clutch in his chest at the sight. He ignored this and straightened, took her hand and pulled her out of the chair. Holding her hand, he led her unresisting body across the room and turned her to face him.

He had little time to get her accustomed to him and teach her the ways of her new life but he knew in this moment she could use some space.

However, no one should be idle. She needed something to do.

He cocked his head to the shopping bags and his leather case.

He squeezed her hand before ordering quietly, “Unpack your things and mine. Tidy the kitchen. I’m going to take a shower.”

He saw her eyes flash at his order but, accustomed to people following his commands without question, he thought nothing of it, dropped her hand and went to his bag. Grabbing clean clothes, he strode to the bathroom.

While he was in the shower, he heard her moving around, putting away their clothes, tidying the bags, cleaning the kitchen.

Something about this annoyed him.

It was irrational but he’d prefer she was rebellious. At least that would be interesting.

In their short time together, she had displayed mild bouts of courage and fire but she always gave in.

Too quickly.

He wiped down the mirror and stared at himself, deciding not to bother with a shave and also thinking that the week, and indeed his life with the health-conscious, pampered, obedient Sonia, yawned before him.

His father had been a patient, accepting man who taught his son many lessons and tested his son many a time.

Mac had not managed, however, to teach him patience or acceptance.

Callum dumped his clothes in the laundry hamper and walked from the bathroom.

The kitchen was clean and Sonia was tucked back in her chair, a mug wrapped in her fingers held up close to her face. Her eyes were on the fire.

A she-wolf could never be still like that.

If he was here with one of his own, she’d pounce on him the minute he exited the bathroom.

Fuck, she’d be put out that he wanted to shower alone.

If not, she’d be doing something. Baking, organizing the kitchen, finding some kind of busy work, no matter what it was. Hell, even reading, or, in these circumstances, plotting.

Not staring vacantly into a fire.

His cell rang in his back pocket and as he reached for it, he watched her turn her pretty head slowly to face him.

And, he had to admit when her green eyes hit him, she was pretty.