by J. A. Saare
“What’s got you troubled?” My father’s casual pose vanished, replaced by absolute attentiveness.
“Some weird things have been happening the last few days. I was hoping you might know why.”
“What kinds of things?” Mom sat up, folding her legs to the side, and placed her book on the bed.
“Little things.” I shrugged. “My temper has been going through the roof. I’m having trouble concentrating. Just now, I lost control when I tried to move a pair of sunglasses with my ability.”
Dad gave an understanding smile. “I think the temper and concentration are the cause of several things. You are under an extreme amount of stress right now, and if I recall correctly, you always did have a bit of a temper. You’ve always been impressive in your talents with your ability, just as I was. I’m not surprised you would experience problems with control. I did as well in the beginning.”
“This is—” I grappled for the right words, trying to find a way to explain that something felt off in ways I couldn’t describe—“different.”
“I don’t have experience with Caleb’s kind, Emmaline. I have noticed they exhibit more natural energy than we do. Maybe that’s the cause. If you’re absorbing power into yourself without knowing, you’re keeping it pent up inside. That would explain the lack of control.”
“Maybe,” I acknowledged, lowering my head and staring at the carpet.
“Everything is going to be fine, lass. It’s no wonder you’re on edge, with all you’ve dealt with in the last few months.” He grinned. “You know my future son-in-law won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I can’t believe he asked your permission before we left Scotland.” I couldn’t stop the flush that crept into my cheeks.
“It’s a right good thing he did,” Dad huffed. “That is what a man is supposed to do.”
I laughed. “You would say that.”
“It will be beautiful, Emma. Spectacular.”
I turned toward my mother’s voice, realizing she had always wanted a big wedding and didn’t get one. She and my father had eloped—had to, actually. His engagement to Monica Acarons was still binding at the time. An odd gleam was in her eye, and I had a good idea why.
“I don’t need a big wedding, Mom. Small, simple, and understated—that’s me. No big church or any of that stuff.”
“Nonsense, we have plenty of time to decide on all the details.”
“Thank God for that,” I muttered.
A soft knock came from the door. I shoved my legs underneath my body, came to my feet, and went to see who it was. When I cracked the door open, Beverly was waiting in the hallway, apron in hand. Her hair had speckles of flour in select strands, but her face was free of the white powder.
“Emma, I’m afraid I need your help for lunch. I have to cook double the dumplings and chicken.”
She offered the apron and I took it despite my desire to cringe. I was a terrible cook, and my help in the kitchen was more of a detriment. She didn’t know what she was asking for. I looked over my shoulder and closed my eyes, making a sour face that only my parents could see. I heard their combined chuckles.
I sighed, resigned to my fate. “I’ll be back later.”
“Keep the fire extinguisher handy,” Dad warned, and when I opened my eyes, he was frowning at me. “You remember what happened last time.”
Wincing, I nodded. Almost burning the kitchen down in my parents’ home wasn’t my most impressive accomplishment. But in my defense, I didn’t see the dishtowel that fell onto the flaming eyelet. It had been an honest mistake, but an embarrassing one. I never attempted to make Jiffy-Pop again. Since that day, I left cooking to the professionals. Like Keith—the most amazing butler ever.
“And stay clear of the knives, sweetheart,” Mom added, giving me a smile that could be construed as playful or terrified depending on how you looked at it.
“Okay, I’m going in. Wish me luck.” I escaped the torment of their warnings and teasing, leaving the bedroom and closing the door.
I followed Beverly into the kitchen and took a seat at the center island. She scurried here and there, grabbing utensils and the ingredients for her much loved chicken and dumplings. It was Caleb’s favorite, and she’d apparently been cooking yard birds for days in preparation.
“I’ll have you cut the chicken while I do these,” she told me, bringing over a huge square container crammed with several chickens she had baked in the oven. It was a shame, really. We would work for hours to prepare this meal, and it would be gone in minutes. “I’ve already done the hard part, just cut the pieces into thick slices.”
As I accepted the large knife from her, I removed a chunk of chicken. I plopped the cold white meat onto the cutting board she’d placed in front of me and held it with my fingers. Bringing the knife down gradually, I tried to decide where to start.
“Emma,” she scolded and came over, stopping me before I could do anything. “Don’t leave your fingers like that. You’ll cut one off.”
Nodding, I studied the piece of chicken, devising another plan of attack. I modified my method, leaving the chicken alone while cutting one handed. It wasn’t very effective. The bird seemed to have been given a new life, moving across the white plastic surface in a dance of cut me if you can. I scowled at the meat, hating it with each thrust of the knife it avoided so nimbly.
“I hate you,” I mumbled, despising the blasted stuff. Caleb was screwed when we tied the knot. If he was expecting Betty Crocker, he was in for a shock.
Beverly watched me from across the island, her frown intensifying with every pass of the knife. I glanced up at her before giving it another go. I wasn’t sure what she expected. Maybe I should have warned her.
“Like this.”
Caleb’s arms came around my shoulders, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. He took the knife and placed the blade evenly on the surface, his fingers holding the hilt firm. He moved the chicken, leaving the knife in place, and sliced evenly portioned chunks before shoving them to the side of the cutting board with the knife.
“Show off,” I grumbled.
He chuckled and returned the knife to me. “It just takes practice.” Pressing his lips to the side of my neck, he brushed his hand through my hair and down my back. He breathed into the shell of my ear, causing my insides to melt.
“At least I know what to get you as a wedding gift,” Beverly said, watching me warily as I pulled a piece of the dreaded white meat from the container to take another shot.
“What’s that?” Caleb asked, leaning over my body again to guide my hands.
She lifted her spatula, pointed it in my direction, and informed him, “A six-week enrollment for her at the Blue Ribbon cooking school and a first aid kit.”
Chapter 18—A Welcome Interruption
As it happened, chicken and dumplings were served for both dinner and lunch. Beverly had made so much there was plenty left over, and that was saying something. My fingers were still sore from cutting the slices, but thanks to Caleb, they remained intact.
My parents didn’t want to seem rude so they joined us at the table while we ate, seated in front of empty place mats. It really was strange, but what would be normal in this kind of situation?
Another person who stuck around, to my utter dismay, was Aidan. The only satisfaction I gleamed from his presence was watching his face when he was introduced to Mom and Dad. He had been told my parents were different, but when Caleb made the introductions, and a clear crack surfaced in his rock hard exterior, it was priceless.
Sam managed to get everything in order before he left. It was official. Caleb was the alpha of the Mohegan pack of Tennessee. All that remained was some sort of special ceremony. Caleb would stand before his pack and give the other males the opportunity to challenge him for the position. I wasn’t too happy about that part, even with Sam's assurance it wouldn’t be an issue.
No one had much to say as we ate, so they either sat quietly or shoved food into their mouths.
The brooding atmosphere in the house had become stifling. Everyone was tense, worried, and on edge.
We all needed something to take the edge off.
When everyone finished, I helped Caleb and Beverly clear the table and stayed long enough to make sure the dishes were clean before retreating to what had technically become our bedroom. My parents decided to stay downstairs to speak with Chris, and I didn’t want to hear anymore talk about fighting.
I threw myself across the bed, lying face down on the mattress, and allowed a sigh of relief to escape.
“I love it when you make that sound.” Caleb’s huskily spoken words caused a spasm of heat to radiate from my stomach down. I brought my head around to face him, rising onto my elbows. He stepped inside the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and flipped the lock.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” I murmured, watching as he closed the distance, stalking me from the few feet that separated us. His eyes shifted colors as he reached under my stomach, flipped me over, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“This,” he growled, lowering his head, and pressed his lips against mine.
His body covered me, bringing us chest to chest, hip to hip, as if we had been purposely molded for each other. I groaned and he chuckled, keeping his mouth against mine. His tongue swept past my lips and sent warmth pulsing throughout my body. I met the gentle swirls and laps of his tongue, matching each one in a sensual dance.
I felt the delicious heat from his nearness, the wondrous friction of his body pressed against mine, and I pulled him close. The smell of wolf entered my nose; a mixture of forest, pine and wood. The presence of his other half was more than captivating. It captured all of my senses, becoming a living thing. It swamped my sense of propriety, suffocating my modesty and any hesitation I might have experienced.
I yanked at his shirt, desperate to feel his hot skin pressed against me. He lifted away from my lips, grasping the back of the shirt at the shoulders, and pulled it over his head. I brought my hands up, following the smooth muscles on his shoulders and arms.
“What about the alarm?” I whispered against his chest before I placed a kiss against the tanned skin above his heart.
“It is blessedly silent.” Caleb chuckled, reaching for my shirt. He urged me upright, pulled it away from my body, and tossed it behind him.
His warm skin felt as incredible as it smelled when he returned to me, and I basked in how good he felt, raking my fingers into the muscles along his chest and shoulders. Eager for more, I reached under his arms, grasping at his back. I scraped my nails along his skin, pushing them in slightly, and listened to his ragged groan of approval.
A growl rumbled in his chest as he came over me, pushing my body into the soft mattress with his weight. I moved so he could settle between my legs and wrapped my right leg around his hip, clinging to him. I reveled in the feel of him like this, and reached around, placing my hands on his shoulder blades to pull him closer.
His tantalizingly soft lips found mine, muffling my gasps as he kissed me teasingly. He placed small kisses against my mouth, retreating when I tried to meet his lips, coming back to me when I didn’t expect it. It was an alluring game of cat and mouse that had my patience wearing thin.
I brought my hands to his head and twined my fingers in his silken hair, pulling his face down and forcing him to meet my kiss. He did, opening his mouth and allowing our tongues to merge. My body’s reaction was immediate and intense. Ripples of fire extended from my stomach to my sex. I wasn’t patient or leisurely. I moaned against his mouth, pushing my breasts against his chest, and whimpered at the sensation of my nipples against his warm skin.
I wanted him, and I wanted him now.
He laughed, nipping at my throat. “I feel the same way.”
Blushing, I realized I had said I wanted him aloud. The brush of lips against my ear, followed by the cool caress of his tongue and warm heat of his breath, made me forget all about being embarrassed. I never had to be ashamed of the way I felt for Caleb.
“I’ve thought about you like this,” he rasped in my ear, sending spirals of heat through my body. He pressed his pelvis into my sex, rotating his hips, causing me to moan. “Just like this.”
I brought my hands down, grasping at his back, and met the rotation of his hips with ones of my own, coordinating myself with his movements.
“When you move like that,” he growled. “I can’t think straight.”
“Then stop thinking.”
His free hand came up, snarling into my hair, and forced me as close as possible. There was no space between our bodies, no air, even light wouldn’t have been able to find refraction between the two of us.
Suddenly, his arms stiffened and he let me go. Rising above me, he looked into my face in obvious panic. He frowned, his gorgeous blue eyes widening as he turned his head and concentrated. I knew the look. He was listening for something, homing his ears on some sound in the distance.
“Caleb?”
Deep blue eyes flickered inside his face as he listened, going still and silent instead of responding. He moved away from my body, jumped from the bed, and started spinning around in a frantic circle. He snatched his shirt and pulled it over his head.
“What’s wrong?” I sat up, fear removing any traces of the passion we shared, replacing the mind-blowing arousal with dread.
“Put this on.” The teasing husky timbre in his voice was completely gone, taken over by alarm. He tossed my sweater at me, and when I didn’t make an immediate effort to do as he instructed, he snapped at me pointedly. “Put it on!”
“What’s the matter?” I grasped the shirt tightly in my hands.
“Get dressed, Emma.”
I tossed the sweater over my head and spun it around to get it on straight, seeing nothing but long waves of mahogany as my hair covered my eyes. After I got my head through, I pulled the long strands free and breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of static.
“Caleb? What’s wrong?”
He answered by grabbing my hand, pulling me from the bed, and walking to the door. He flipped the lock and yanked the door open, using so much force it banged against the wall. He pulled me behind him, nearly dragging me from the room as he headed for the stairs. He slowed down when we descended, but only enough to keep me from taking a nasty tumble. Then he hooked a right, striding down the hall, toward the basement. The door was already open. I listened, making out the voices below.
I heard Beverly’s hysterical, high-pitched cries. She was speaking quickly, her sentences tumbling together to the point she was almost incoherent. Chris’s deep tenor followed, whispering something I couldn’t make out.
Caleb released my hand and rushed down the stairs two at a time. “Is it her?” I heard him ask hoarsely as he reached the bottom.
I made it down the stairs and noticed my parents standing on the far left wall, their faces concerned. They glanced at me and produced weak smiles, not saying a word. Aidan was reclined against the wall on the right of the room, his arms folded and a nasty frown contorting his face. I noticed his head turn in my direction before he stared straight ahead, his jaw ticcing rhythmically.
I gave my full attention to the couple in the center of the room.
Chris was standing next to Beverly, listening into the phone she held to her ear. Her eyes were blood shot and filled with fresh tears that continued winding down her face.
Stepping over to my mother and father, I glanced around the room until I located Caleb. My heart sank at his expression. He was both hopeful and panic-stricken. His forehead was creased, his irises changing to variegated shades of blue.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s the police station calling about Sammie,” Dad whispered quietly.
“Oh no,” I said softly, feeling as if my legs were going to fold. Blindly, I reached for the wall, using it to keep my balance.
“Is it her?” Caleb growled, leaning against his mother to listen to the phone. Beverly lif
ted her finger for him to stay quiet and his eyes narrowed “I heard you scream her name upstairs. Is it Sammie?”
“They don’t know for sure, son, but they think so,” Chris answered hoarsely.
“Sammie?” Beverly said suddenly and Caleb and Chris both crowded the phone at the same time.
Beverly’s sobs carried through the room, and Chris wrapped his arm around her. Caleb took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and turned around. He came to me in two long strides, snaking his arms around my waist, and lifted me into his chest. He buried his face into my neck, taking a huge breath against my skin.
“It’s her. She’s on the phone. I just heard her voice.” He squeezed me tightly, his ragged exhale revealing just how terrified he had been.
I twined my arms around his neck as hot tears of relief and happiness burned my eyes. I closed them and felt the wet path they took down my face, uncaring if anyone saw.
“What, Sammie?” Beverly tried to talk through her tears. “Calm down, I can’t understand you.”
“We’re coming, sweetheart.” Chris yelled, his normally stern and composed voice shaken. “We’ll be there soon.”
“Calm down, Sammie.” Beverly cleared her throat and swiped her fingers across a face reddened by tears. Chris moved away and walked across the room. His heavy footsteps became softer as he climbed up the stairs.
Caleb lowered me to my feet and gave a gentle squeeze. I kissed his cheek before I released his neck and stepped back. He hurried up the stairs after his father with Aidan following close behind him.
Turning, my gaze rested on my mother and father. They were smiling, as relieved as we all were. I had spoken of Sammie often with them, feeling as though she had become my own sibling.
“This is wonderful news,” Dad said, moving from the wall, and uncrossed his arms.
I let out muffled cry, stumbled to him, and buried my face into his chest. I hugged him tightly, ready to burst into a fresh round of tears. My mother’s arms came around the back of my body, covering me from behind.
“I was so scared,” I admitted, hoping Beverly wouldn’t overhear. “I thought I’d never see her again.”
