With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(62)
It took effort but he held it back and started walking again swiftly, his long legs eating the distance to round the block which would take him back toward Sonia’s house.
Gregor kept up with him, pace for pace.
“Think of her, Callum,” Gregor urged calmly. “What she’ll go through, aging while you do not age, knowing that –”
Callum cut him off, “This conversation is over.”
“Callum, you must think of Sonia.”
Callum yet again halted, turned on the vampire and took a step closer, clearly aggressive and on the offense, bending slightly so he was nose-to-nose with Sonia’s guardian.
“I said, this conversation is over.”
Gregor held his cool and Callum’s scowl for long moments before he replied, “Fine, Callum, the conversation is over.”
“Don’t raise this subject again, not with me, not with Sonia,” Callum commanded.
Gregor pulled in breath through his nose then sighed and agreed, “I won’t raise it again, with either of you.”
“Yuri either,” Callum went on.
“I’ll speak with Yuri,” Gregor promised.
“I want your vow on that,” Callum demanded, he watched Gregor’s eyes flash then the vampire nodded.
“You have my vow.”
Callum felt his body relax.
But he wasn’t finished. “If you and Yuri want to be a part of Sonia’s life, no matter how short it may be, you’ll not behave like you did tonight. Especially Yuri.”
“As you can see, my news was important,” Gregor returned.
“Call next time,” Callum gritted out.
Gregor’s jaw tensed but he nodded.
“Yuri speaks to her like that again, or to me when she’s within hearing distance, I’ll tear him apart, burn the pieces and scatter the ashes to the winds.”
This threat was not idle, Gregor knew it and he knew Callum could carry it out.
Yuri might be a vampire with extraordinary abilities, including strength.
But Callum was king of the werewolves and his family didn’t rule because they were good at diplomacy. They ruled because they were the strongest, swiftest, most cunning and by far the most ferocious warriors of all werewolves.
In Callum’s teeth, Yuri would be shreds.
A muscle in Gregor’s jaw flexed.
Then he defended, “This evening was difficult for Yuri.”
“That might be so but the past four days have been traumatic for Sonia and the man she thinks of as her brother behaving like that didn’t f**king help.”
Gregor held Callum’s scowl for a moment before he acceded, “Your point is made. As I said, I’ll speak with Yuri.”
“Good,” Callum bit out.
Finished with their f**king stroll and definitely finished with their conversation, he turned and walked the rest of the distance to Sonia’s house. He didn’t speak the entire time nor did he do so when he entered her house and took off his coat.
He was striding to the stairs, not having deigned even to glance at Yuri, when he ordered, “You let yourselves in, you’ll lock up on your way out and you’ll never use your keys again unless you know Sonia and I aren’t in this f**king house.”
“Callum,” Gregor called.
Callum stifled a growl, stopped, turned to Sonia’s guardian and regarded him in silence.
“We’ll expect to see Sonia during the holidays,” Gregor said quietly.
“We’ll see,” Callum replied roughly, put them out of his mind and took the stairs two at a time.
Sonia was asleep on her side when he’d disrobed and joined her in bed.
He fitted his body to the curve of hers and, with his arm around her waist, he hauled her deeper into his still agitated frame.
He had a great deal on his mind but the only things catching his attention were the exact things he wished not to think about at all.
He had a vast number of friends who had found their mates. Claiming stories were shared freely and outrageously amongst wolves, both male and female, even bragged about. Fuck, it was such a common practice he even knew his parents’ claiming story.
Keen to find his connection, Mac had gone on a quest to seek his mate. It had lasted years, but Mac, with his usual patience, never grew frustrated.
He’d sensed Regan well before he was even in her vicinity. He’d tracked her and found her sitting on the steps in front of her parents’ cottage in France, eating an apple and, apparently, as reported to Callum by Mac, waiting for him.
Mac had seized her immediately, dragged her into the wood surrounding her parents’ cottage and claimed her on the forest floor, clasping the chain he’d carried in his pocket for centuries around her waist before he’d done it.
Until the deed was done, Mac didn’t even know her name.
And that was the wolves’ way. Wolves didn’t f**k around.
The male seized the female, claimed her and their lives began.
Although wolves didn’t shy away from talking about sex and mated wolves didn’t balk at unseemly (to other cultures) public displays of affection, Callum was grateful not to know the particulars of his mother’s claiming as he did some of his friends.
What he did know was that was it. Regan was then Mac’s and their lives together started there. Callum wasn’t a romantic and never imagined their relationship was perfect in the centuries they had together. But it was solid, it was strong, it was affectionate and tender and, last, it was loving.