With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(82)

“Died. In battle. Years ago.” His words were short and curt and he didn’t try to gentle them because this effort would be impossible.

Her body jerked lightly in his arm then it, too, went soft and settled against his.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He was too, more than he could say.

Callum didn’t reply.

“I shouldn’t have asked but I was surprised. You’d never mentioned him,” she told him.

“He was the youngest of us, we didn’t protect him. It’s not a subject we discuss.”

He felt her heave a fluttering, little sigh and she lifted a hand and curled her fingers around his neck, murmuring, “Callum.”

He wished he’d had her years ago when Calvin fell. That sweet sigh, the touch at his neck, the feel of her yielding body pressed to his, the murmur of his name would have gone far in soothing the grief. He knew this because it was something it did now.

He gave her waist a squeeze and informed her, “It was years ago.”

“It’s still fresh,” she said softly.

“It’ll always be fresh,” Callum replied, his voice no longer clipped but quiet. “He was my brother.”

She slowly closed her eyes.

Then she wrapped her arms around him, pressed her cheek to his chest and held him close.

He closed his eyes and marked the crown of her head with his temple, pulling her even closer.

His sweet, sweet Sonia.

He opened his eyes and saw they had a mixed human and wolf audience, all of whom were watching either avidly (the wolves) or covertly (the humans) and the fact made him exceedingly pleased.

One of her shop girls, he was thinking Kerry (or Mabel, he was too focused on Sonia calling him husband for the first time to pay much attention when they were introduced) approached.

“Um…” she began tentatively. “Sonny? The caterer wants to talk to you. Something about salmon in puff pastry? She sounded like it was urgent.” The girl’s mischievous eyes went to Callum and Sonia turned in his arms to face the newcomer as she remarked, “Though, urgent and puff pastry to me don’t go together.”

He couldn’t agree more with her statement and Callum decided he liked this girl. You could see it in the light of her eyes, the fullness of her smile, the depth of her laughter and the loving way she gazed at Sonia – she fed on life, like a wolf.

Sonia detached from Callum and mumbled, “Thanks, Kerry. I better go see what that’s about.” She walked away with a distracted smile in his and Kerry’s direction, muttering, “I didn’t even order salmon in puff pastry.”

Kerry’s eyes tipped up to him and she grinned.

Then her grin grew hard and she said, “I know you’re a big guy and you could probably break me in two.” This, Callum thought, though she couldn’t know, was exactly true. “But make her happy, will you? I don’t know why, though considering your story she was probably waiting for you to stop dicking around,” she informed him baldly (and courageously). “But she’s been alone a long time. She deserves to be happy. In fact, I don’t know if I know anyone who deserves it more.”

She gave him a look that clearly said she would not be happy if he didn’t do as she asked, even though she knew her displeasure would be lost on him.

Yes, Callum decided, he liked her a great deal.

She tilted her head to the side, the seriousness going out of her eyes, the hardness going away from her mouth, and announced, “One thing I can say for you, you convinced Sonny to have beer. Always wine and champagne and cocktails. A girl needs a beer. Which I’m getting right now. You need one?”

Callum shook his head but grinned at her.

Then, with another bright smile, she wandered off while Callum thought that he didn’t like her a great deal. He seriously f**king liked her.

He noticed Sonia rounding the dining room table and decided for perhaps the fiftieth time that night he liked what she was wearing. A skintight, winter white turtleneck that had opalescent beading around the shoulders and down the chest which gave the impression of sparkling snow. She’d paired this with a matching, slim skirt that came to her knees and cupped her ass so perfectly, it had to be made for her. She was wearing outrageously sexy, high, stiletto-heeled, gray snakeskin pumps. She had her hair loose in a sleek fall past her shoulders and down her back but a pretty, wide, velvet ribbon was threaded through it, holding the thick locks away from her face.

She looked like a sophisticated snow angel.

His claiming chain hung outside her skirt (she always wore it visible, at his command) and her wedding rings sparkled on her finger. Both of which, even the rings, being his, Callum felt a fierce pride that she, Sonia, his mate, his queen, dressed in that f**king sexy outfit, was displaying for all her friends and his family to see.

The minute he saw her emerge down the stairs earlier that evening, he’d decided to try to find some way to f**k her with that skirt on.

If that failed, he was definitely f**king her while she was wearing those boots.

He knew every man in this room would envy him that opportunity.

And he f**king loved that.

She stopped at the outer end of the table and was talking with one of the women who came to cater her party. The woman was gesticulating wildly and Sonia was looking at the table in charming bafflement as Caleb slid up beside him.