Wolf's Fall (19 page)

And they would be Bondmates, for good.

A
strangled shout jolted Calla from a sound sleep.

“No! I won't!” Nick thrashed beside her in bed.

“Nick!” She shook him, hoping to wake him without alarming him more. “Honey, it's me.”

His reaction was swift, and violent. Moving like a ninja, he pinned her to the bed and hovered over her, teeth bared. He was glaring down at her in the darkness, but his eyes weren't seeing her.

“I'm going to fucking kill you,” he growled. “Why won't you fucking stay dead?”

Oh, gods!
“Nick! It's me!”

He reached for her throat, and she reacted instinctively—she brought her knee upward and slammed him in the balls. Howling, he fell to his side on the bed and clutched his abused package. Her pulse thudded with fear as she scooted away,
watching to see whether he'd go on the attack again.

He didn't. Instead, the rage slowly left his eyes. He stared, waking by degrees until he rose up on one arm, gazing into her face as though he'd never seen her before.

“Calla?”

“Yes. Are you all right?”

“What did I do?” Shame filled his face. “Did I— Oh, God. Did I just
attack
you?”

“It's okay,” she said, reaching for him. She wasn't expecting the reaction she got.

Flinging her hand away, he snarled, “It's not okay! I tried to attack my own mate! Christ, maybe this was a mistake.”

“What?” No. Not after last night.

“What I said. Maybe we should just stop before I end up hurting you for real.”

She couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped. “You think it takes a physical blow to hurt someone? I can't believe you'd ruin something as special as what happened between us last night by saying these things to me.”

“Fuck!”

Propelling himself from the bed, he punched the wall so hard, the stone actually cracked under his fist. She flinched and shrank away from him, starting to become truly frightened. This wasn't the loving, passionate man who'd given himself to her last night.

“You're scaring me,” she whispered. Tensing, she prepared to run.

He turned, and in that moment, she saw rationality return. Shame and guilt were close behind as he seemed to shake off the last effects of his nightmare.

“Calla, I'm so sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Forgive me.”

He moved to the bed and sat next to her, not making any sudden movements as she watched him warily. “I'm sorry,” he repeated.

“You can't say our mating was a mistake and expect to brush it away.” Her throat burned with unshed tears.

“I didn't mean it. I swear to you.” Anguish filled his face. “I was in the grip of the nightmare when I first woke up. Then I lashed out because it drives me crazy that it still affects me like that.”

“I understand that, but I can't unhear what you said. I can't forget how you looked when you wanted to strangle me.” The tears fell, and she couldn't stop them.

Reaching out, he gathered her into his arms. “I'm sorry. I'm trying. I fight this battle every day and I'm scared I'm going to lose.”

“I'll fight it with you! And you
won't
lose, as long as you don't quit on me.” She sniffed. “But maybe you do need some space. Maybe I've pushed you too hard.”

“Never,” he denied.

Then he kissed her. Despite herself, she leaned into him, seeking more. She wanted him, and nothing would change that.

Nick brought one hand around and gently placed a finger under Calla's chin, tilting her face upward. Their eyes locked and, despite her hurt, she returned his desire in equal measure. Vaguely, she remembered her suggestion to give him some space. To hell with that. She fervently hoped he would kiss her again. She wasn't disappointed. He cradled her close and took her mouth, savoring her. At last he drew back and regarded her silently for so long she started to worry.

“What are you thinking?”

“That we need some time alone,” he said, touching her face. “Just you and me. Some hours away to take things slow and enjoy each other, see where things go.”

She liked that idea, a lot. “What do you have in mind?”

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“Where would we go?” she asked. Her pulse quickened in excitement at the thought of a real date with her Bondmate.

“I'm not sure, but I'll work out all the details by tonight,” he said with a half smile. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“We need this. I need
you
, all to myself for a while. What do you say?”

Finally, she gave him a tentative smile. The hope on his face, and another, stronger emotion, was a balm for her soul. He was such a beautiful man, inside and out. “I think you're right,” she said softly. “We do need this.”

His smile was brilliant. “I'll pick you up at eight.”

“Pick me up? But you're staying here with me,” she said in confusion. “Where will you be until then?”

“Yes, I'm staying here. But I have an idea for our getaway, so I can't tell you where I'll be.”

She paused, looking up at him as if considering. In truth, she'd forgiven him. Nothing short of nuclear war could have kept her from accepting.

“All right.” Intrigued, she nodded. “Eight o'clock it is. How should I dress?”

“Whatever you want. All I'm going to say is, no fast food tonight. I'm pulling out all the stops. Does that suit you?”

“It sounds perfect. I'll be ready,” she said, hoping her voice came off confident.

Through her renewed optimism, a dose of doubt crept in. Would tonight be the night? She'd tried to claim him before, with near-disastrous results. There was no guarantee it would be different now, even after their wonderful evening last night.

But the need for her mate was all she had to hold on to.

*   *   *

Late-afternoon shadows slanted across the porch of the cabin Nick had rented.

There had been no time to hire someone to clean, so he'd spent the last few hours scrubbing. Shirtless and dripping with sweat, he stood in the living room and surveyed his efforts with satisfaction.

Every piece of furniture shone and the fresh scent of lemon oil permeated the air. The carpets were vacuumed and everything dusted. There were fresh sheets on the bed, too. At the thought of Calla claiming him, he felt a twinge of unease, but he pushed it down, replacing his fear with thoughts of how sweet and sensual his mate was. He could do this. It was going to be fine.

A throb of pain shot through his almost-healed leg, reminding him of the basilisk, and the rogues and hunters doing their best to get rid of him and his allies. As he rubbed his thigh, his thoughts naturally drifted to their enemy—Ivan Cardenas.

“Very soon, you sick fucker, I'll find out where you're hiding. Then we'll have a whole new ball game, asshole.”

Glancing around, he decided the place was ready. All that was left was to fetch his mate.

Jumping in the shower, he got cleaned up quickly. After drying off and getting dressed in a pair of black pants and a blue dress shirt, he took one last look around. Satisfied, he headed out the door.

Smiling to himself, he got into the low-slung
Ford GT and fired it up. The engine started with a throaty purr, and he silently thanked Tarron again for loaning him the car for tonight. He wanted everything to be perfect. A hot car, a rented cabin, and a man determined to fully give himself to his mate—an unbeatable recipe for romance.

The drive didn't take long, and less than half an hour later he pulled up to the entrance of the coven's grounds. Recognizing him and Tarron's car, the sentry there waved him through the gate. Reaching the end of the road at the main entrance, Nick swung the vehicle around in the driveway and saw Calla already waiting. Her expression lit up and she seemed glad to see him.

Hurrying over, she climbed into the car and leaned over, giving him a sweet, slow kiss. “I've missed you, even if it was only for the day.”

“It's not like you haven't seen me,” he pointed out.

“I know. But I felt like we were miles apart and I hated that.”

Taking her hand, he kissed the soft skin on the back of it. “Me, too. I hated feeling like I'd let you down. That's why I pulled away.”

“Oh, Nick. You didn't let me down. I don't believe you ever could, unless you gave up on us without a fight.”

“Told you, not going to happen—in spite of my big mouth.”

“Good.”

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he said, eyeing her in appreciation.

“Thanks. So do you.”

She had on a classic little black dress, sleeveless, that fell just above her pretty knees. The material hugged her curves without being too tight. Her hair was loose around her face and shoulders, and her eyes sparkled. His heart did a weird lurch. His wolf may have claimed her, but it was the man who was falling in love.

Had
fallen
.

The cabin was far enough away from the stronghold to feel like an escape, but close enough that she could teleport them in seconds, if necessary. As far as their safety, he wasn't taking any chances. She'd never see the team of wolves he'd placed in the forest to stand guard for the night.

When he rounded a bend in the road and the structure came into view, Calla gasped in surprise. It was impressive, built of logs and stone, with a wall of glass facing the forest. Chuckling to himself, he made a note not to get dirty in front of the windows, or the guys would get a show.

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you like it?”

“It's beautiful,” she breathed as he parked. Getting out of the car, she gazed at their place for the night. “Let's go in.”

He unlocked the door and let them in, leading
Calla by the hand. Once inside, she twirled around, wide-eyed, clearly delighted with the fat leather sofas, oak furniture, and soaring ceilings. A dining room had its own space next to the kitchen, and was open to the living room as well.

“Are you cooking?” she asked, looking toward the kitchen. “You did promise dinner.”

“Hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Then I suggest you open the door.”

Looking puzzled, Calla crossed the foyer, peered out the peephole, then opened the front door, where a tall, thin man dressed in a tuxedo stood regarding her down the considerable length of his hawklike nose.

“Good evening, madam,” he said, bowing gallantly. He introduced himself as the maître d' of the Duck, the fanciest restaurant in the county. “I'm here with your dinner, and I hope you're famished.” He gestured to a rolling cart behind him, laden with covered silver dishes.

Calla's eyes rounded. “All that? I'm glad I'll have help eating it. You can bring it right through here.”

“Certainly, madam.” He turned abruptly and snapped his fingers toward the open doorway. A younger waiter leapt forward from the shadows to maneuver the cart inside. They followed her to the formal dining room, where they made a great show of setting the dishes just precisely so.

As she watched in astonishment, they spread out two place settings, complete with china, crystal, and flatware. Nick grinned and took in her reaction with immense satisfaction. Calla clearly wasn't used to being pampered, which surprised and pleased him, given her status. He was going to get used to spoiling her. The thought sent a small shiver of happiness through him.

“Will this do, madam?” the tall man asked.

“It looks terrific,” Nick broke in. “Thank you for coming all the way out here. We appreciate it.”

“Our pleasure, sir.”

Nick handed him a large wad of bills and saw them out. When the door was shut and locked firmly behind them, he turned back to her. “Shall we eat?”

“Definitely. It smells wonderful.” She sniffed appreciatively.

“I'll get the wine.”

Nick reappeared in moments, filling Calla's glass and holding out a chair for her to sit down in. He uncovered the dishes one by one as Calla's jaw dropped in amazement. The table abounded with Caesar salad, seafood linguini marinara, delicate asparagus, fresh bread, strawberries and cream, and two huge slices of cheesecake.

“There's enough here to feed every neighbor within ten miles! I would feel guilty if I weren't so busy salivating,” she said, shaking her head in wonder. “You really didn't have to go to all this trouble.”

“Oh, sure. Picking up the telephone was a lot of trouble,” Nick teased. He loved watching the childlike joy on her face and sensed it had little to do with the food.

Nick filled their plates and they talked quietly, basking in each other's company. The shadow of this morning seemed to fade into the past, for which he was profoundly grateful.

Finally, they turned to the subject of Graham's surprising betrayal. “And Ivan Cardenas?” Calla pondered. “I barely remember him. I certainly didn't know Carter was his mate.”

“Neither did anyone else,” Nick said. “We're going to find him, though. When we do, he'll have to face justice for trying to overthrow a prince.”

“It's really sad,” Calla said, her brow knitting. “Grief can do terrible things to a person.”

“True. But he was mated to Carter, and since Fate chooses those who are supposed to be perfect for us as our Bondmates, I'm not sure how innocent Ivan ever was to begin with.”

“There is that. But he's going to be extremely dangerous, with grief driving him. I know something about that, after Stefano. . . .” She trailed off in apology, but Nick shook his head.

“You can always talk about him. You can say
anything
to me, and I'll always be behind you.”

“In some ways, I understand where Ivan is coming from. Carter was evil and he hurt many. He
deserved
what he got. But as a mate, I
get
Ivan's grief.
I didn't go after Stefano's killers—Tarron did—but sometimes I think if I had it to do over again, I would make a different choice.” She let out a sigh.