But Sonia Arlington had lost a lot in her life.
This was just the last in long line of it.
And, unfortunately, she’d never gotten used to it.
* * * * *
Sonia was in the kitchen with Regan watching Callum arrange greenery and lights on the mantels of the fireplaces.
The Christmas decorations were Ryon’s idea.
After Sonia experienced her latest life trauma, she composed herself (she hoped), came out of the bathroom and she and Regan made breakfast for what Regan called “The Boys”. “The Boys”, Regan informed Sonia, were Calder and Caleb, Callum’s younger brothers, and Ryon, his cousin.
Regan was really nice, talky and chatty in a motherly way that was a little bit weird (okay, it was a lot weird) considering she looked like their sister.
Still, she took great pains letting Sonia know she was welcoming her into the bosom of her brood with open arms.
As they made huge, fluffy pancakes for the men, she told Sonia stories about her Momma and Papa which was the only nice thing that had happened in this mess, Regan knowing and having stories about Sonia’s parents. It was something Sonia hadn’t had for years and she appreciated greatly. Although Gregor was supposed to be their very best friend, he disliked talking about them and, eventually, Sonia stopped bringing them up.
When Sonia told Regan this, Regan’s mouth got tight in a way that made Sonia curious.
“What?” she asked Callum’s mother.
Regan slid the bacon around in the skillet with a fork and muttered, “It’s just…” She looked at Sonia with a carefully closed face and finished, “I’ve known Gregor too, for a long time. He didn’t get along with my husband.”
“Oh,” was all Sonia said because it was obvious Regan didn’t want to talk about it. As she wouldn’t, considering Gregor didn’t get along with her dead husband.
This was also not a surprise. Gregor didn’t get along with hardly anybody.
Callum, Ryon and Calder came back and Sonia heard it before Regan did.
She also heard who she would later know was Calder mutter before they walked into the house, “This is brilliant. Fuck her tonight, you can bring her down the mountain and we can stop dicking around with this shit.”
Sonia’s heart twisted.
There you go. More proof she was just a kingly duty for Callum.
“Jesus, Calder,” Ryon (she would recognize later) muttered back, his voice sounding annoyed.
She didn’t let on she heard but strangely Regan gave Calder a look when he sauntered in with the pack. A severe motherly look that made Calder ask, “What?”
To which Regan answered, “You know what.”
When Callum entered, he came directly to Sonia and curled an arm around her, bringing her body front-to-front with his.
“How you doing, honey?” he asked the top of her hair.
“Okay,” she lied to his chest and hoped it sounded like the truth.
It obviously didn’t because he pulled back and looked at her with searching eyes.
She didn’t know what to do to hide her thoughts from those intelligent eyes so she used the only escape route available to her as she couldn’t run to a car and drive to the ends of the earth. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in massive chest.
This was the right thing to do. His body relaxed but his arms tightened around her and he gave her a squeeze.
She found out during breakfast that Callum and his father before him had been protecting her since her parents died. Ryon was what they called “the lead” of Sonia’s “detail”.
This meant they knew practically everything about her (except her injection). They knew about Gregor, Yuri, her schooling, her friends (such as they were), her shop, her house, everything.
This explained those benign presences Sonia felt since her parents died and she felt a strange sense of relief that she finally knew what they were. However, she told herself she didn’t feel a not-so-strange sense of warmth that Callum and his father had taken great pains to protect her since her parents died (but she did feel it).
Therefore, after breakfast, Ryon walked up to where Sonia was standing at the counter, scooting her pancake remains around on her plate. There were a lot of them, Regan made delicious pancakes but Sonia wasn’t hungry.
He slid an arm around her shoulders, tucked her into his side and teased, “As an apology for stalking you for thirty years, I told Regan you clearly had a thing for Christmas.” She looked up at him and he grinned down at her at which time she noticed he was nearly as good-looking as Callum. “Regan likes to shop, as those clothes you’re wearing lay testament to.” Sonia glanced at Regan in surprise and gratitude at learning Regan had supplied her wardrobe. She looked back to Ryon when he finished, “She ran out and got some decorations so you could have little bit of Christmas while you’re stuck up here. They’re out in the car.”
This was such a nice thing to do, Sonia’s mood lifted instantly and she had no idea just how much her expression brightened.
She also had no idea how much it transformed her “seriously pretty” face.
She further had no idea that Callum could see her plainly from where he was leaning at the end of the counter.
And no idea the intensity of the response Callum felt at seeing her expression.
She also didn’t know that she’d never, not once, looked at Callum with her expression shining and unguarded. She didn’t even cotton on when Ryon’s body went solid and he stared at her like he’d never seen a female before.
“Really?” she breathed. “You did that for me?”
He jolted at her words, a slow, gorgeous smile spread on his face and he replied, “Really.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Anything for my queen,” he mumbled, his green eyes going soft.
Not knowing what to do but having been told by Callum that his people were affectionate, she gave him a little, hurried and uncomfortable hug around his middle.
To this, Ryon dropped his head and rubbed his temple along her hair.
That temple thing, she thought, must be some sort of Callum’s People Gesture.
However, a split second after Ryon did it, Callum’s voice cracked through the room with, “Ry, fucking hell. Seriously?”
Ryon pulled away and looked at Callum who was scowling at them.
“She’s difficult to resist,” Ryon replied strangely but with an open, roguish grin.
“Try harder,” Callum returned, his voice flinty, clearly not finding whatever they were talking about amusing.
Ryon gave her a squeeze and let her go. Then the men went out to their SUV to get the Christmas decorations and Caleb came back.
Caleb still seemed in a surly mood but he gave Sonia a welcome to the family hug before tucking into his own pancakes.
They didn’t bring a tree and all the trimmings. But they did bring boughs for the mantels, Christmas lights, pretty, playful ornaments and knickknacks of Santa Clauses, reindeers and snowmen to put in the greenery. There were also matching fun candlestick holders for the coffee table with festive, wonderful-smelling green and red candles. And last, a big, plump, snowman cookie jar that Regan told Sonia they were going to fill by baking Christmas cookies.
The women got down to baking while the men drank coffee (Calder and Ryon) or dealt with the boughs and lights (Callum and Caleb).
It didn’t take long but when it was all arranged, while Regan was rolling out dough and Sonia was cutting out gingerbread men, it transformed the space to almost magical.
And baking Christmas cookies like she did with her Momma in that same kitchen so many years ago, with Christmas decorations in the house, jovial male voices and Regan’s musical one mingling around her, suddenly cut deeply through Sonia.
Therefore, Sonia froze mid-gingerbread man when Callum plugged in the lights to the mantel in the living room and she didn’t know she sucked in breath.
Regan heard it and her head turned
to Sonia. “Sonia? Sweetheart?”
Sonia stared at the greenery on the mantel twinkling with lights and dangling with lively, lovely ornaments and she remembered her mother’s decorated mantels in that very room.
“Sonia?” Regan called again but Sonia didn’t move.
It was too much. All of it.
Too much to take.
“Callum, something’s wrong with –” Regan started but Sonia was already drawn away from the dough, the cookie cutter pulled from her hand and she was being turned toward Callum’s big body.
“Little one, look at me,” he demanded.
Automatically she tipped her head back to look at him.
He took one look at her face and asked, “Jesus, honey, what’s the matter?”
She didn’t delay in replying. “The last time I was here, my Momma’s decorations were on that mantel.”
She barely finished talking before she was yanked into his embrace and when his warm body surrounded her, she lost it.
She burst into loud, wracking sobs. It was embarrassing and it was weak but it was also understandable.
Her life was terrible.
It had once been perfect when her mother and father were alive. Idyllic. Wonderful. She had been protected. She had been loved. She had been told she should be proud of who she was and the gifted things she could do. And she had lived her young life knowing her Momma and Papa were proud of her and those gifts.
Since then all she had was Gregor who wasn’t exactly loving, if he was always gruffly kind. And Yuri who was also gruffly kind but decided not to be her brother-type-figure but instead wanted since she turned twenty-one (and he made no bones about it) to be her lover-and-husband-type-figure.
And without anyone knowing what she could do, much less being proud, she felt she was weird.
Because of that she had to hide her gifts and therefore had no true friends who knew her down to her every secret.
She was the mate to a man who didn’t want her.
She was the queen to a people she didn’t know.
She’d been attacked, kidnapped and traumatized.
And now…
What?
What was she supposed to do?
She tipped her head back and wailed to Callum, “Now what do I do?”
He didn’t answer likely because he wasn’t in her head and didn’t know what she was on about.
Instead, he picked her up cradled in his arms and carried her to a chair, arranging her body in his lap, her face in his neck then his arms tight around her.
“Well?” she demanded loudly into his neck.
“You cry it out, baby doll,” he answered. “Then, together, we’ll get on with it.”
Easy for him to say.
He was king. He could do whatever he wanted to do.
She was queen which meant she just followed him around while he did whatever he wanted to do. Even though he didn’t want her, he would, if what Caleb alluded was true, find someone he did want.
Deciding to forget they were in the room (though she didn’t actually forget they were in the room), she declared, “Your family’s going to think I’m a loon.”
“Since they’re all pretty nuts,” Callum replied calmly, “you’ll fit in.”
She jerked her head back, glared at him and demanded to know, “What are your people going to think of me?”
His big hand came to the side of her face and his thumb rubbed away the streaming tears.
Then his eyes went to hers and he replied, “They’re going to love you.”
How? She thought. He was never going to love her.
She decided to use the tactic that worked at hiding her thoughts earlier and buried her face in his neck.
Then she did as he suggested and cried it out.
While she did this, she heard Regan working silently in the kitchen and the men went out the back to let her have her moment.
When she smelled gingerbread man cookies baking, she took a shaky breath, got herself under control and told Callum’s neck, “I’m all right now.”
His hand sifted into her hair and twisted, using it to pull her head back gently and his blue eyes scanned her face.
Then he said something in a quiet but firm voice that made her world tilt crazily.
“You’ve got a lot to get used to, baby doll, but I asked my family to come up here to show you that you’ve got family now to help you get used to it. The people in this cabin will fight and die for you. And they would never want to see you struggle, no matter what you’re struggling with. Know that in our soul and never forget it.”
She blinked at him (what else could she do!) and blurted, “I think your culture is very intense.”
His lips tipped up in a grin and he replied in a now teasing tone, “You’re learning.”
It was time to move on and away from Callum who, when he was sweet (and intense and teasing) she could forget he was with her out of kingly duty.
“I want a gingerbread man cookie,” she announced.
His grin turned into a smile, she hated it that she loved his smile and while she was thinking that, he replied, “Me too.”
* * * * *
Sonia wandered the room in her sexy, lacy, satiny nightgown, quickly turning off lamps and blowing out the fragrant candles.
Callum was in the bathroom changing for bed. His family had left just a little while ago.
Or, she should say, he kicked his family out just a little while ago.
While she was hugging Regan good-bye, she heard Callum, who had walked with the men down the path to the SUV, speaking to his cousin.
“I see you do that again, Ry, it won’t make me happy.”
Ryon’s voice was good-humored when he replied, “Relax, Cal.”
“I’ll relax knowing I’m never again going to stand in my kitchen watching my cousin mark my mate,” Callum returned.
The good humor left his tone when Ryon retorted, “I said relax.”
“She’s your queen,” Callum clipped.
“She’s also Sonia,” Ryon bit back. “Don’t fucking forget that, brother.”
Callum had no retort then again, she was just his queen to him.
Sonia didn’t let on she was hearing anything and anyway, she didn’t know what marking meant. She reckoned it was the temple thing but she could swear Regan heard them too. Though she couldn’t, the men were muttering under their breath and definitely not close. She could swear this because Regan’s mouth got a motherly tightness which she tried to hide when she smiled her final good-bye.
Callum and Sonia barely got back through the front door before he dragged her to the bathroom to give her the injection.
So that was why he threw his family out. Not because he was desperate to be alone with his mate after she’d accepted him.
Well, she figured he wouldn’t want his destined by the oracles queen dying of a rare blood disorder. What would his people think?
She got under the covers and told herself she didn’t feel delicious anticipation that Callum was soon to be coming out bare-chested (when she did feel it).
He came into the room moments later and she watched in what she told herself wasn’t avid fascination (when it was) as he went directly to the mantel to unplug the Christmas lights.
“Don’t!” she blurted and he turned to her in question. “I like to sleep with them on. Can you sleep with them on?” she finished.
“I’ve slept in rain and snow and mud,” he told her. “I can sleep with Christmas lights on.”
Why on earth was he sleeping in rain and snow and mud?
She wanted to know but she didn’t ask.
She didn’t ask because he came directly to bed and, unlike the two nights before where he kept his distance, he curled right into her. Spooning her body with his arm around her waist, his face went into her neck.
Her body grew stiff.
Good goodness, he wanted to have sex. Mate with her so in the eyes of his people she’d be his queen and then he
could stop “dicking around” up here with her.
Holy cow.
“Relax, honey,” he said into her neck, pulling her closer.
She did not think so.
“I’m really tired,” she told him.
“Then sleep,” he said back.
Did he think he could have sex with her while she was sleeping?
Oh good goodness!
“Actually,” she said quickly, “I thought maybe we could talk.”
This seemed to be perfectly all right with him because he pulled his face out of her neck, rested his head on the pillow and cuddled her closer.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked.
Oh no. Now what had she done?
“Um…” she started.
He chuckled into the back of her hair and then said softly, “Baby doll, you’ve had another tough day. Thwarted escape, coming to terms with your destiny, meeting the in-laws, emotional breakdowns. I’m not going to come onto you after a day like that.”
Well, that was a relief. It was even nice.
And, actually, sweet.
Luckily, he spoke, pulling her thoughts away from him being sweet. “Why do you want the Christmas lights on?”
“I like sleeping with them on,” she told him.
“Yes, I guessed that. You had them on in your bedroom at your house too. I’m asking why?”
She shrugged, willing to talk but she’d never be willing to let him in and replied, “I just like Christmas.”
He was silent a moment and then he sighed.
“We’ll let that go for now.”
At last, something to be thankful for. Callum, at least, was going to let her keep her own thoughts to herself.
For now.
“I’ll try something else,” he said.
She expressed her thanks to the cosmos too soon.
Callum went on, “You want to tell me why your entire house is clinical and pristine and not anywhere someone would want to spend time but your bedroom is the opposite?”
“My house is lovely,” she retorted.
“It is,” he agreed. “In a clinical, pristine, not anywhere someone would want to spend time kind of way.”
Her body got stiff again. “Callum.”
“But you’re bedroom,” he broke in. “That’s a place you want to stay awhile.”