He was concerned about the storm. The snowfall was forecast as heavy and this could knock out the broadband and interfere with his cellular reception. Further, if anything should happen and he was needed, he didn’t want to be snowed into the cabin. He could transform and get out but Sonia couldn’t.
At any other time, he’d be thrilled to be snowed in at their cabin. Since buying it decades ago, he’d spent a goodly amount of time there. Regardless of the fact that his title came with castles in Scotland, England and France, a mansion on the East Coast of the US and his entitlement to take over any Territorial Mansion while traveling, he’d toyed with the idea of talking Sonia into settling in their cabin for a long spell after he’d won the war. At least until they started having pups. It reminded him of the years he spent in the Canadian Rockies and he liked its intimacy, the dense forest that surrounded it, sensing and smelling the plethora of wildlife all around.
She’d once told him she loved it there which was one of the reasons why he bought it. The other being that he loved it there and it was the only place that was theirs not to mention she thought she was in a dream when she was back.
He figured she wouldn’t be hard to sway to his way of thinking.
This was the only thing that brightened Callum’s morning.
On that thought, he walked into the house, removing his gloves and tossing them on the counter in the kitchen.
However, upon entry, his eyes went directly to Sonia.
She didn’t look to him. In fact, she didn’t move.
She was seated where he left her, curled up, her neck twisted to look over the back of the chair and out the window at the falling snow.
He had, for one shining moment that morning, thought she’d also felt their connection, just as all wolves do instantly, and he could gratefully dispense of this charade of courtship, claim her, mate with her and install her at his side.
He also had, for one shining moment that morning, gloried in the fact that she was not what he’d feared when he’d read the varied reports that had been unlocked to him after his father’s death or when he’d watched her walk home last night. It was the first time he’d laid eyes on her in person since he met her that Christmas Eve years ago.
For one shining moment that morning, he’d gloried that she was instead like a wolf, lusty for life and all that it offered.
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 fucking 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.
Very pretty.
Stunning.
He’d never
tire of looking at her.
At least he had that.
He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear as her gaze moved back to the fire.
“Callum,” he answered and walked to stand at the back of the couch in order to study her blank but elegant profile.
“Cal,” Ryon said in his ear. “Thought you’d want to know, Mona had nothing to do with it.”
This wasn’t surprising. His ex-lover wasn’t smart enough to plot against a kingdom. He’d never understand why he’d got involved with that she-wolf, she was unbelievable in bed but she was also a fucking nut.
“Two of the mansion’s detail were involved. They’re under guard and on their way to Scotland for trial,” Ryon went on.
“Excellent,” Callum muttered.
“We’re still interrogating others,” Ryon continued. “The two we broke swear they’re working alone and didn’t give us dick about how they found out about Sonia. We’ll keep working them but my gut says this isn’t a clean sweep and catching those two won’t nip it in the bud. It’s bigger.”
Callum’s gut was saying that too and he hoped it was true. The rebellion had brought down his father and, years ago, his youngest brother. The treaty was too easy for them.
He wanted their blood then he wanted their capitulation.
“Keep at it,” Callum ordered.
There was silence then, “How’s Sonia?”
Ryon, on the other hand, made it very clear Callum’s queen did not bore him.
Ryon had a great deal more patience and acceptance than Callum had. He enjoyed the pursuit of coy female humans. He liked dating, another thing Callum detested. He preferred seizing. Dating, which he rarely engaged in, left him cold. Ryon took great pleasure in wearing them down, teasing them and enticing them, even tormenting them before he went in for the kill.
Callum never understood it.
“She’s –” Callum started but stopped speaking when he saw Sonia’s entire body jerk.
Then her head twisted around to look at the bathroom and without delay she sprang from the chair, crashed her mug down on the coffee table and ran to the bathroom.
“She’s what?” Ryon asked in his ear but Callum was listening to Sonia’s panicked, even frenzied, search of the bathroom. “Cal?” Ryon called.
Callum didn’t answer for Sonia ran out of the bathroom, stopped herself on a one-footed skid and stared at him.
“My injection,” she whispered.
“What?” Callum asked, staring at her pale, stricken face.
She strode forward purposefully and stopped in front of him.
“You didn’t bring my injection,” she said.
“Cal, what’s going on?” Ryon asked in his ear.
“A minute,” Callum replied, took the phone from his ear and asked Sonia, “What injection?”
“My injection,” she repeated. “My medication. I need it, every night.” Her strange calm started evaporating and her voice rose when she demanded, “We have to go back to the city right now!”
All right, maybe she was staring into the fire plotting.
“We aren’t going back to the city,” he told her firmly.
She took the last step that separated them and grabbed his wrist, shaking it.
“You don’t understand. I need it.”
Callum studied her then put the phone which was, incidentally, in the hand which was attached to the wrist she’d latched onto and she didn’t let go, to his ear.
“Did you hear that?” he asked Ryon.
“What’s she on about?” Ryon asked back.
“You know nothing of an injection?” Callum enquired.
“Nothing,” Ryon replied.
Ryon knew everything about Sonia Arlington. He’d been ordered to know and Ryon was an excellent soldier.
The best.
Callum took the phone from his ear and warned, “Sonia, it’s not a good idea to play this game.”
Her eyes grew wide and then she shook his wrist.
“I’m not playing a game!” she shouted, her voice trembling with fear.
When Callum didn’t respond, her faced blanched further. She threw his wrist from her and took a step back, digging her nails into her hair at her temples, pulling its heavy weight back and holding it at the crown of her head.
Then she took a deep breath, dropped her hands, tipped her head back and stated in a strong voice, “Callum, I’m being very serious. I’ve got a rare, inherited blood disorder. If I don’t have that injection every night, I’ll get very ill. If I get very ill and die, you’ll never get your kidnapping money.”
Callum continued to study her without saying a word.
She was, he remembered from their brief meeting thirty-one years ago, very cunning.
She was, he knew now, no less cunning.
She took the step in his direction that she’d moved away and tipped her head back further. “If I don’t get that injection, my blood will overheat. I’m not joking. It’ll heat and heat and heat until it boils my organs inside my body.” Her hands came up to grab his biceps. “They’ll fail, I’ll die, but before that, I’ll be in agony.” Her fingers tightened on his arms. “Callum, this is not a game. Take me home, you’ll see when you take me home!”
God, she was good.
“We’re not leaving this cabin,” he decreed and she instantly made a noise of frustration mingled with fear in the back of her throat.
Then she stepped away again and threw her arm out to indicate the windows.
“Look at it out there!” she yelled. “We’ll be snowed in within hours. We’ll never get out of here. That medication isn’t carried in pharmacies!”
How convenient, Callum thought.
“Of course it’s not,” Callum muttered.
She stepped forward and her eyes flashed before they narrowed. “It’s not carried in pharmacies, Callum, because my condition is so rare, they don’t have a demand for it. I get it directly from my personal physician where Gregor got it before me and my father got it before him. I need my supply from home. We can’t nip out to the local drugstore and ask for a prescription to be filled!”
Callum heard Ryon calling his name from the phone still opened in his hand and he put it to his ear.
“Ry,” he said.
“She thinks you kidnapped her?” Ryon’s voice was filled with humor.
“Evidently,” Callum replied with forced patience.
“That’s hilarious,” Ryon commented, sounding like he thought it was hilarious because he was laughing through his words.
“Ryon,” Callum’s single word showed his patience was waning quickly.
“Let me check it out,” Ryon replied.
“She’s bluffing,” Callum returned.
“No harm in letting me check. If it’s nothing, I’ll phone you. If she’s telling the truth, I’ll send someone up the mountain,” Ryon offered.
“Do it,” Callum ordered.
“On it,” Ryon answered and Callum heard the disconnect.
“I’ve a man checking,” Callum told Sonia and he watched her eyebrows rise before she visibly relaxed.
“Thank you,” she whispered with great feeling.
She was taking this too far.
“Sonia,” he called, regaining her attention which had unfocused from him in her apparent extreme relief. “I’m telling you right now, this turns out to be a game, I won’t like it.”
Her jaw tensed and she jerked her head so her hair shook about her shoulders.
“Call your man back,” she demanded. “Tell him it’s in the green box in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. The needles in the blue box beside it. If we have to be here a week, I’ll need it all,” she started to turn but then jerked back and raised her angry gaze to his. “And the sharps container.”
Then she stomped, yes, stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Callum stared at the door and, instead of feeling angry at her game, he felt aroused by her spirit.
“T
hat’s more like it,” he muttered then turned to add a log to the fire.
* * * * *
Half an hour later, after Sonia had spent some time in the bathroom arranging her toiletries, his toiletries, rearranging the towels, maniacally cleaning the mirror and basin, if his hearing was correct (and it always was), she left the bathroom.
Then she paced.
Callum, at his laptop at the kitchen bar, ignored her.
Then his phone rang.
She stopped pacing, whirled and glared at him.
Callum studied her.
She looked glorious in her anger.
Yes, he liked this Sonia much better.
Not taking his eyes from her, he yanked the phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear.
“Callum.”
“She’s not lying,” Ryon told him and Callum didn’t know what to do with that information. It proved she wasn’t playing a game and further provided unwelcome information that his mate had a rare blood disorder that, if untreated, could lead to an agonizing death.
Something about this rattled him in a way he never felt before in his entire life.
“Have a man bring it to the cabin,” Callum ordered and he watched Sonia’s shoulders fall as her head tipped back and she looked at the ceiling with closed eyes and extreme relief washing over her face.
Fucking hell, if he’d called her bluff, he’d have killed her.
That rattled him further.
“I even talked to her doctor,” Ryon, always thorough, said in his ear as Sonia tramped to the kitchen and started to yank things from the fridge and cupboards. “She’s got a rare blood disorder. Never heard of it, it’s about seventeen syllables long. Inherited it from her father,” Ryon’s voice lowered. “It’s nasty, Cal. She could die from it.”
“How did you miss this?” Callum clipped.
Ryon chuckled and Callum’s hackles rose. “Mac, and you, I’ll remind you, forbid any of the brothers spying on her when she was inside her house. Follow her to stores. Monitor her purchases and expenses. Go through her trash but you never let us go through her house or watch her in it. She visited the doctor regularly but medical records are confidential, which, by the way, meant I had to talk fast to get the doctor to tell me anything. She has a monthly prescription for birth control, which we knew about from a light hack into her records some time ago. She picked those up monthly from her doc along with the injections we didn’t know about. But this disease she’s had since birth. The hack Caleb just did uncovered it but we had to go back years and, even so, it was buried, almost like it was hidden. The information about her condition and the prescription for the injections was protected behind so many passwords even Caleb had trouble unlocking it.”