Spellbound Fate: A Fantasy Shifter Romance, page 18
Callan’s fingers brushed through her hair gently, a silent invitation to continue.
"Then it won’t take long," he said softly, his tone patient but earnest.
Emery closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself. "I fancied myself in love," she said, her voice distant as if recounting a tale that no longer had any hold over her. "We went to dinner at the cheapest place we could find near the hospital. We danced. I thought it was all so romantic, so new. We’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks when he received his orders to go back to France. He asked me to marry him before he left, and I said yes. For the next three nights, we were together, and then he was gone. That was it. He didn’t come back." She swallowed hard, feeling the lump in her throat grow heavier. "I felt guilty, for so long. Like I had failed him somehow."
"Why?" Callan asked, his voice thick with emotion as he slid his hand down her side, his touch tender but questioning.
Emery let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening as she recalled the long, lonely nights after James had left. "I hoped for a baby. I thought... I thought maybe that was why he had asked me to marry him. But it never happened. It felt like... like no part of him had survived because I couldn’t give him a child." She felt a bitter laugh rise in her throat, but it caught there. "I was foolish to think it was my fault."
Callan’s expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy. "That’s a lot to carry, Emery. A lot to carry for so long."
"It’s better now, the bastard," she said quietly, the harshness in her voice almost sounding foreign to her. The image of James, so eager to leave without a second thought, still stung. Would he have returned if she’d had a child? The thought gnawed at her, but it wasn’t a question that had any clear answer. "But I don’t carry it anymore. Not like I did."
Callan squeezed her hand gently, a reassuring warmth in his touch. "I hope you don’t mind that I’m hoping we might start a family of our own."
Emery blinked at the shift in conversation, her heart racing at the thought. The image of Callan cradling a child, his smile full of affection, made her smile despite herself. "Not at all," she murmured, her hand resting on his chest. "But, um, Callan, if it’s a shifter... would I have—"
"Human, until they’re five," Callan replied with a laugh, his eyes dancing as he looked at her. "I had my fun as a pup—biting tails, chasing after anything that moved. But a babe won’t shift at first."
The thought of a little one running around, perhaps as fast as Callan, brought an unexpected warmth to Emery’s chest. "They’ll be muddy," she remarked with a grin. "And they’ll probably bring home frogs to chase after. But I can’t wait."
A strong gust of wind howled around the eaves of the cottage, sending a chill down her spine. The sound, haunting and plaintive, almost seemed to speak to the deep, unspoken fears that lurked in the edges of her mind.
"Ignore it," Callan said, his voice firm and steady. "I’m going to distract you." He slid his leg between hers, pulling her closer with a playful grin.
"And how do you plan to do that?" Emery teased, raising an eyebrow as she met his gaze, her heart thumping a little faster.
"Very well," he replied, his smile growing wicked as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both playful and full of promise.
Chapter Fourteen
Callan had stopped trusting life to be anything other than a series of days a long time ago. People let you down. They died. Nothing was constant. He’d found solace in the indifference of nature. In the forest, he’d had no one to care for but himself.
He’d thought he’d wanted nothing more than the change of the seasons and the hunt.
The cottage shuddered as the wind hit it. In any other year, he would have been in a den, hungry because he couldn’t be out looking for dinner, and curled up with his tail over his nose to fight the cold. Alone.
Beneath him, Emery moaned and wrapped her arms around him as her lips found his. Her hips rose, seeking him.
Callan nipped and sucked at her lips, falling into the bliss of his mate. He wasn’t alone. Or cold. Being with Emery was indescribable bliss, feeling her hands slide over his back while the heady scent of her arousal teased his nose. He’d found the peace he’d always wanted in her arms.
His witch.
Emery had no idea how powerful she was. He could feel the force of it licking at him as her tongue dragged over his throat. It made the hair on his arms stand on end. It was going to be exciting to help her discover what she was capable of. He couldn’t wait for long summer nights together, or walking together amid spring flowers, or building snow forts with…with their family.
His once lonely life was very full of Emery.
She made a plaintive noise while grabbing his arse.
Emery needed to be full of him. His cock throbbed.
“You’re smiling,” Emery said, breaking their kiss and dropping her head back against the floor. She stretched, and Callan used it as an excuse to pull her exquisite new nightgown over her head. His jaw had nearly hit the floor when she’d returned wearing nothing but a bit of lace and silk.
Emery remained stretched out, her hands over her head and her legs splayed. Her smile became a bit shy, and while he knew she was sometimes flustered about her body, he had no clue as to why. Callan scrunched up his nose, trying to look at her from the perspective of someone else to see what she could possibly be worried about.
He failed miserably. There wasn’t any part of her that wasn’t perfect to him. Her dark hair and gaze, the curves of her breasts and hips that called out for his touch, the sweetness hidden between her legs.
His mate was sexy as hell and he’d rip the jugular out of anyone that said differently.
“Now you’re scowling.” Emery ran a finger down his nose.
“It’s all tied up with you being my mate,” he said. “You’re everything fascinating, and I’d maul any git who argued.”
She laughed, which made her breasts bounce. He dropped down and sucked a nipple between his lips. To his satisfaction, Emery moaned, and her hands gripped his hair.
That was more like it.
Callan sucked, nuzzled, and licked her tits until Emery used her grip on his hair to pull him up so he was looking at her. Her hair was messier than before and her face was flushed.
“I think I’m wetter than the loch,” she gasped. “And I need you inside me. Now.”
“I can do that.” His cock ached.
Sitting up, he scrambled out of his kilt, his eyes never leaving Emery as she slid her hand between her legs to rub her clit.
“I can feel that you want me,” Emery said, her voice hoarse. “Through the connection. It’s all tangled up with my wanting.”
“Then you must know I’m desperate.” He fisted his prick and ran his palm up and down his shaft. Her longing was there, wiggling into his consciousness and mixing with his own lust. He tried to read through their connection how she wanted him, but there was no clear answer, only that she did.
Blast, he was going to have to ask.
“Emery, how would you like—” He gestured at his prick, his only thought to please her. To do what she wanted. The collar hung around his neck and he touched a finger to it. He was hers.
Her answer was immediate. “Hard, fast, I want no other thoughts besides ones of you.”
“I…” He swallowed thickly. The best way to do that was for her to turn over, but they’d not done that yet, he’d been too worried she’d think him too much the beast. When he made love to her, he always wanted her to see him as a man.
Emery must have picked up on his doubt because she sat up. One of her hands splayed out on his belly. “What is it?”
“I want to fuck you from behind. It’d be both hard and fast, but…would it be too much like the beasts in the field?”
One of her brows arched up as she drummed her fingers against him and he had a hard time not pushing her hand down lower. “You wouldn’t…um…ever…shift, would you? In the middle of us…” Emery turned faintly pink.
He snorted, indignation making him huff. “I bloody well think not.”
“Sorry, you were worried and—”
“Always human, the urges are different as a wolf, it’s always the human part of me that wants you naked. The biology is different, you’d have to be a wolf, and in season, and—”
Emery laughed. “I got it.” She ran a finger down the strip of hair that led to where his erection begged for attention, but she didn’t touch him, damn it. Instead, she rolled over and pulled her knees under her, presenting him with the slick folds of her cunt. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes heavy with lust. “Hurry up.”
Fuck.
He gripped his prick hard. “Spread your legs.”
Emery’s thighs parted, and he positioned himself behind her. He traced a fingertip down her spine, caressing every bump as he rubbed the head of his cock over her pussy. She moaned every time he bumped her clit.
“Callan, hurry.” Her hips rolled, and he had to bite back a chuckle. He felt every inch the man at the moment, with Emery begging for him. He pushed the head of his prick into her opening, meaning to savor the feeling of filling her.
Emery didn’t give him a chance. She pushed backward, enveloping his cock, and he had to grab her hips to stay upright.
“Is your hand between your legs?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes, please, please hurry.”
It was no hardship to do as the lady asked. He hammered into her, spurred on by her mewls and how her inner walls gripped his cock.
The fire felt too warm now and Emery arched her back as they wildly coupled.
Her breathing hitched and her thighs trembled. She was close.
Callan bit back a groan, and his head turned as a flicker of something caught his eye. The lamp was sputtering with an orange glow. The ceiling bulb was too.
Emery came with a sharp cry. The lights flared to full life briefly before going dark again.
He looked down at the witch whose pussy was still milking him. That explained the wiring issues.
“Callan, Callan.” Emery moaned as she pushed back towards him.
Dear god, he could feel her fingers rubbing at her clit. They moved back to feel where he was screwing her, tracing how her body stretched around his shaft and sliding through the slickness.
He needed to see her.
Callan pulled out, his cock an angry red and his bullocks protesting. “Turn over, Emery, please.”
She immediately did so, her eyes meeting his.
He dropped down and thrust deep inside her again, but now he could kiss her as her fingers dug into his back. The kisses were messy, and she bit him when she peaked again.
Callan slowed his movements as Emery shivered through her bliss. He was close, but he didn’t want this to end.
Emery caressed his face with her hands. “Come, Callan. I love you.”
Hell..she’d…she’d said…
Pressing his cheek to her palm, he thrust deep a half-dozen more times before emptying himself as far inside her as he could get. Pleasure radiated through him, and he collapsed forward, his arms and legs no longer completely under his control.
His mate hummed happily and softly stroked his shoulders.
When he could move again, he rolled to lie on his side next to her.
His brain was crowded, but there was a lot he needed to say.
“Thank you,” he managed, cupping her cheek. It was followed by, “I figured out the problem with the power.”
“Did you?”
“Wait…no. Dammit. Shite. That’s not the right order.”
Emery laughed softly. “What is the right order?”
“First, I love you too.” Joy at finally telling her sparked inside him. He’d known it but saying it made it real. And she’d told him first.
Her eyes filled with warmth. “Oh, Callan.” She kissed him tenderly.
“I love you and I figured out what’s wrong with the power.”
“Do tell.” She sat up and slid her nightgown over her head, which was a tragedy. Callan only conceded to pulling his kilt back on after he stood.
“I think what’s causing it to keep going out is you.” He’d been worried after James had shown that the berk might have had something to do with it, but now Callan was certain it was simply a fact of life when you combined electricity with a talented witch.
“Excuse me?” She crossed her arms, and Callan laughed at her petulant look.
“Because you’re a witch. Your power’s surging through the circuits, and it’s too much for the system to handle. You’re lucky I know my way around a bit of wiring.” He walked into the kitchen, following his nose towards a faint acrid burnt smell. The burnt wires were an easy fix and the power came back on when he flipped the breaker.
Emery chewed her lip as he put away the tools he’d used. “You really think it’s me?”
“The lights in the living room were glowing right before you came. That’s all you.”
Her face reddened. “Oh. Well, is there a way to stop that from happening?”
“More magic, I should think, but we can ask Kaeya when she’s here for the Full Moon.” There had to be a way to magically insulate the wiring from Emery’s power surges.
Going to the front door, Callan turned on the outside light before opening it. The worst of the storm had passed, but the snow was continuing to fall in puffy, white flakes. A flawless carpet covered the garden and forest.
“Wow,” Emery said, peeking around him. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is.”
“Do you want to go and run?”
If Callan hadn’t already been in love with her, that would have cinched it. “Part of me does, but most of me knows it’s not a good idea. It’s snowing too hard. My footsteps would fill up and I wouldn’t be able to see anything, meaning even I’d get lost.
“What about our bond, shouldn’t you always know which way was home? And with this weather nobody is going to risk being out in it, we’re safe.”
Callan shut the door. “All those things are true, but I’d still rather be home with you.” He kissed her nose and went to hunt up a snack.
Emery followed and watched him make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but declined to have one. She sat across from him at the table, her eyes studying him.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
“Trying to picture our family.”
Callan’s heart bounded in his chest. “Aye?”
“Where are we going to put them? This place is tiny.”
“That’s a lot more practical than I was imagining your thoughts to be.” He took another bite to give him some time before he replied. The cottage was meant for a witch. There wasn’t even room for overnight guests, which made the answer obvious. “We’re going to have to add on. Your magical supplies need to be in a secure place so little fingers can’t get into them.”
Emery nodded. “Can I simply…magic more room?”
“Maybe?” He scratched his chin. “I wouldn’t advise you to try. That’s a lot of energy and every detail needs to be correct. You can’t be out even a centimeter or it’ll collapse. Do I think you could do it, of course, but I don’t think it’s worth exhausting you over when it can be done the old fashioned way well enough.”
“How many rooms do you think?” She stood and retrieved the kettle to fill before settling it on the stove.
Callan watched her, delighted in how comfortable he was sitting in a kitchen, chatting with his mate while she made tea in her nightgown. “The number of rooms depends on the number of bairns you want.”
“Do I have to decide this minute?”
Callan stood, fitting himself against her back and putting his arms around her. She relaxed against him. “No, but don’t take too long. I plan for us to keep practicing baby-making.”
Emery’s cheeks pinked as if he hadn’t just tumbled her in their living room, and Callan couldn’t help but grin.
His mate was going to be the best mum.
◆◆◆
The next morning, Callan awoke to the silence of an empty bed. At first, his heart skipped a beat, panic blooming in his chest as he reached over to the cold side where Emery had been. For a heartbeat, he thought something had happened, that she had slipped away into the morning, leaving him behind in a world he didn’t want to face without her. But then, the familiar hum of the blender from the kitchen broke through the tension, and he exhaled sharply, feeling the tight knot of worry loosen in his chest.
Emery had probably been up before the crack of dawn—he checked the bedside clock, which read 8:20 a.m.—already making herself useful, as she always did. Her energy was a force of nature, and he adored it. It was a little startling, honestly, to think of how much his life had changed in the short time since she’d entered it. He stretched, the muscles in his back protesting as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and then slipped into the thick warmth of his jumper and socks.
Callan made his way to the kitchen, the soft sounds of the radio and the sizzling of eggs drifting from the other room. Emery stood at the stove, moving with a grace that still took his breath away. She was singing along to a song he didn’t recognize, her voice light and cheerful.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, flashing him a bright, teasing grin as he leaned against the doorframe.
"Good morning," Callan replied, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he added, "I seem to recall someone wearing me out last night."
She laughed, a sound like the sweetest music, and pushed him playfully. "Flatterer."
Callan chuckled and leaned in to steal a kiss, feeling the warmth of her lips melt away any remnants of sleep from his body. If this was going to be the rest of his life—this warmth, this connection—he would never ask for anything more. Maybe someday they could get a morning paper delivered out here. It would be a luxury, something to read over their coffee as they sat by the fire, cozy and content. Actually, now that he thought about it, he could probably use magic to make a paper appear. He'd bring it up with Emery later.
