He moved to her side and murmured, “Can you get your jeans down for me?”
It hurt but she did.
He injected her.
The burn was ten times worse and seared through her back like wildfire.
She was panting when it was done but felt Callum’s warm hand cupped at the back of her neck which she told herself didn’t feel good (when it did).
Then, when she fully recovered, Callum did something strange.
He usually righted her clothes before she recovered but her jeans were still low on her h*ps and his palms went to her bottom, fingers spanning her h*ps and his thumbs slid over the pinpricks exposed by her jeans. He was sitting by her thighs and he started talking as if to himself.
“I hate these,” he said softly. “Fucking hate them.”
She got tense (or, she should say, more tense) but he wasn’t done.
“But I should love them because they’re a part of you.”
Sonia pressed her lips together and closed her eyes tight.
She gave it a moment before she asked, “Can I get up and get my pain pills? My back is beginning to hurt.”
His fingers curled into the waistband of her jeans and he pulled them up before he offered, “I’ll get them, baby doll.”
He gave her the pills, helped her dress for bed (another nightgown, a miracle!) and he held her close when they were under the hides, acting like the devoted king to his injured queen.
They were in the same position as she woke up early that afternoon when he asked, “Would you like me to tell you more about my kind?”
She’d get Regan, Mara, Callista, Ryon and Caleb to do that.
She wanted nothing from him.
“The pills make me drowsy and they work pretty fast.” That wasn’t a lie. “I don’t want to miss anything.” That was a lie.
“All right, honey,” he murmured and went on to comment warmly, “You know, you’re taking this a lot better than I expected.”
She could have laughed.
She didn’t.
“You don’t know me very well,” she told him the truth for once.
His fingers slid into her hair and cupped the back of her head. “True, but everything I learn, I like.”
Liar, liar, liar, she thought but she just let out a fluttery, stupid sigh.
His fingers tensed against her scalp.
She prayed the pills would work their magic and, luckily, shortly after, they did.
* * * * *
The next week, Callum was patient mainly because Sonia was still feeling goodly amounts of pain which he took great care in assessing by often asking the soft, sweet, “How’re you doing, baby doll?”. He also demanded that he be the only one to clean, put ointment on and re-bandage her wounds. And, surprisingly, other than that, he gave her space to rest and heal.
Also, Callum gave her space because Gregor turned up since Regan told him Sonia had been injured.
Gregor gave her the whole, “Callum’s a big boy and doesn’t need you to protect him so you’ve no business throwing yourself in front of an angry werewolf even if you didn’t have any idea he was an angry werewolf,” lecture (although it didn’t go quite like that). Then Sonia gave him her, “So, you and your son are vampires?” interrogation (and that was exactly how she started it). Then it was done and Gregor settled in like he was going to stay a while. This was evidenced by him having a lot of luggage not Sonia being overly perceptive. This also made Callum’s patience slip a little bit but, for some reason, made Regan seem really happy.
Lucien and Leah left several days after the My Mate, The Werewolf Incident which Sonia found distressing as she’d grown fond of Leah very quickly and she liked being around them. There was something beautiful about the two of them. The way they looked at each other, acted toward each other. The quiet but obvious way they were just in love.
Normally, considering Sonia’s circumstances, this would be added torture but Sonia cared about Leah and she also started to like Lucien. He seemed the sort of man who deserved to be happy and he acted like the kind of man who’d waited a very long time to be so and appreciated it deeply now that he had it. Considering Leah told her that Lucien was older than Callum by four entire centuries, a long time for him was, literally, a long time.
Regan, Mara and Callista shared with both Sonia and Leah a good deal about werewolf nature, history, lore and just about anything else they could share because Mara, as ever, liked to talk. It was a fascinating culture with a rich history and they were proud of it (as they should be).
There was only one hiccup in the first week and that was close to the end of it.
Sonia was in bed reading and hadn’t switched out the light and settled in long before Callum came up. This was what she’d made a habit of doing, saying she was going to bed early because of pain and needing to rest, and, considering Callum didn’t know an awful lot about humans, he didn’t know any better. But Gregor gave her knowing looks and Regan gave her increasingly penetrating ones.
By the time she sensed him walking up, she couldn’t feign sleep as he’d know since the door was open and he’d see the light go out not to mention, he probably would hear her moving.
Luckily, he smiled at her when he walked in but went directly to the bathroom. She had time to turn out her light, turn on his, put her book aside and get in a sleeping position before he walked out, na**d and heading to bed.
She told herself he didn’t hear her sucking in her breath at the beauty of his na**d body (but she didn’t believe herself) and this was proved false anyway when he grinned at her knowingly.
Once in bed, he immediately, and adeptly (totally ignoring her painstakingly crafted sleeping position), slid her closer to him, rolled her to her belly then to her side, avoiding her back and pulled her to him, face-to-face.
Then his hands started roaming.
She tucked her face in his throat and bit her lip because his hands on her felt way too nice and she missed them.
Way too much.
“Sonia, baby doll, do you want to play?” he asked softly.
She shook her head.
“I’ll be gentle, little one.”
She loved it when he was gentle almost as much as she loved it when he was rough.
“I’m in a little pain. The pills aren’t working as well as they used to,” she lied for she felt okay. The pain was mostly a twinge by then and the wounds had started itching, indicating they were healing.
“All right, honey,” he murmured but his hands still roamed, though they’d slowed and the caresses felt soothing rather than exciting.