His eyes flared and the brown spikes started to obliterate the blue.
Then we weren’t in the entryway of the restaurant. My hair was flying, I was holding on, and, presto, we were in Abel’s room.
He tossed me to the bed.
I blinked, pulled in breath, and scrambled to my knees.
We looked into each other eyes.
Abel’s were both brown.
Oh yeah.
He lunged.
I met him halfway.
* * * * *
Sonia
That evening, Sonia put her knee to the bed, her eyes to her husband who was lounging in it, chest bared, covers up to his hips.
She barely got in and settled back on her calves before Callum reached for her, muttering, “Why you persist in wearing nighties to bed, I will never know.”
And then he tugged the tie on one side that held up the nightie at her shoulder.
Why she bought it knowing Callum would do just that, she did not know.
No, she did. Because she knew he’d do just that.
It was just that, right then, she needed his attention on other things.
She lifted a hand to hold the silk over her breast, saying, “Cal, we need to talk.”
He stayed leaned toward her, weight now in his forearm in the bed, but his eyes came to her.
“We can talk after.”
She knew what that meant, considering his voice was a rough growl and the tawny spikes were seeping into his blue eyes.
She also responded to it. Just hearing his voice, knowing what it meant he wanted from his eyes changing, but more, seeing the hunger on his face, the urge she used to try to fight but no longer bothered started to come over her.
“It’s important,” she said quietly.
He dropped his hand to her knee and replied, “It’s important to me to get my wife out of that nightie and for her to lay on her belly and spread her legs so I can play.”
The urge escalated significantly, but Sonia fought it back.
“I’m worried about Abel,” she told him.
“We’re all worried about Abel,” he told her.
“No, my handsome wolf,” she said gently, “I’m worried because he’s somewhat like me. I’m worried because he knows nothing about his people.” She covered his hand that was moving up her thigh and leaned his way. “I think before Gregor shares about The Prophesies tomorrow, you and Lucien should take Abel aside privately. Share about his nature. His people. Himself.”
Callum’s hand arrested, and not because Sonia’s covered it.
“The Prophesies take precedent,” he declared.
She shook her head. “No, Cal, I sense he’s confused about who he is and what that means.”
She watched her husband’s brows snap together. “He has to be at least one hundred fifty years old, maybe older, Sonia. He couldn’t have existed without learning about his nature. A pup has no control over turning wolf, and a vampire feeds on blood from the time they’re weaned from their mother’s breast.”
“But there’s so much more to it,” she reminded him.
“Yes, there is, but none of it is more vital than sharing with him that he and his mate play a pivotal role in keeping humanity safe from enslavement, which includes the possibility one, the other, or both will die in the process.”
“Cal—”
He leaned deeper toward her and his voice was firm when he said, “I know this. I know as wolf. You told me the wolf is winning out in him so I know, Sonia, that the most important thing to him is to know the extent of danger his mate is in and how he can do something to stop it.”
She could not argue with this.
She still had a bad feeling.
“I’ll talk to him. Later,” Callum stated. His hand went back to moving up her thigh and his voice gentled but came thick when he said, “Now, baby doll, take off that fucking nightie and get on your belly for your wolf.”
The blue in his eyes was gone and they shone with the hunger she felt gnawing through her. A hunger that had to be assuaged. An urge she could no longer deny.
So Sonia, Queen of the Werewolves, took off her nightie, slid off her panties, and moving on trembling limbs, she got on her belly for her wolf.
Chapter Eleven
Dark Day
Abel
Abel stood at the basin, the light over it the only light that lit his space, his hands curled around the edge of the sink, his eyes to the mirror.
They were meeting the vampires and wolf that morning at nine at the restaurant.
He could not, for the life of him, sense anything other than genuineness from the human bride of the vampire and the queen of the werewolves, and his senses were keen. The women were open, honest, friendly, as well as slightly guarded, but only in a way that it was clear they wished to establish trust and not do anything that might harm that mission. They also bonded with Delilah swiftly and easily.
And he knew, being who he was and now understanding part of what he was, that it was a massive statement, their mates allowing them to come to the restaurant unprotected.
He was still worried.
That day was going to be a dark one; he knew it in his gut.
He’d left Delilah asleep in bed, but he sensed her stirring.
He didn’t move. It was early and he hoped she’d go back to sleep, something he had problems doing after Leah phoned her to arrange the meeting. They’d gone back upstairs to make plans with the men as to how to handle it¸ then back downstairs to fuck yet again and go to sleep.
His hopes were thwarted when she didn’t settle. After a few moments, he heard the covers thrown back, then he heard her pull on her nightshirt and panties, and finally he heard the fall of her bare feet moving across the floor his way.