by Amelia Jade
“I’m sorry about that, by the way. He’s the man in the pictures?” Callan pointed back down the hallway and to the common room.
“Yes.”
“He looked like a good man.”
Kathryn smiled, memories of her father clearly filling her spirit. “He was. He really was. An amazing father. I miss him a lot.”
Callan walked over to her and gave her a hug, arms sliding around her back before he even really understood what he was doing. There was no going back by that point however, and so instead of stiffening or abruptly pulling away he simply gave her a tender hug, letting her know that he felt bad about that.
Kathryn sniffled, but no tears came. “Downstairs,” she said again. “On the right there’s a workbench. Anything he might have was there.”
The light didn’t work, which was no surprise if it hadn’t been turned on in years, but there was enough ambient light from the open door to let him easily locate the toolbox. A quick rifle through showed that it had a bunch of tools in it that would hopefully be enough.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he clomped back up the stairs, the boards bending somewhat uncomfortably under his weight.
“Fixing things,” he rumbled, getting to his knees and looking underneath the counter.
Kathryn started protesting as he forced his wide shoulders in at a cockeyed angle, taking in just how it was secured down.
“You don’t need to do this.”
“I’m aware.”
After the second or third time of that back and forth she fell silent.
“Try it now,” he said, giving the wrench one last twist.
It was a challenge to her as much as it was helpful to him. Callan was well aware that for her to turn it on she would need to stand up, and he wanted to see her push herself. He needed to confirm something.
“Oh wow!” she exclaimed a moment later as the pipes started to vibrate slightly. “It works great now. It doesn’t jangle everywhere and it turns on right away.”
“That’s good,” he said, his attention focused on the pipes. It took him several times to get the right screwdriver, but he was able to then tighten down the clamps that held the copper pipe to the frame of the cabinet, and the rattling decreased significantly.
Kathryn was beaming at him as he stood up. “My mom is going to be so pleased about that,” she said happily. “Thank you. I know it’s been bugging her for years now, but she’s too stubborn to pay someone to come fix it.”
Callan nodded. “Right. Well, what else is there to do?”
His mate brightened immediately as his intention clued in. “Oh, well there’s the door over here!” She pointed him to the washroom door.
Walking over there he felt the floor creak under him, wishing there was something he could do about that. It was a bit above his skill level however, and not something he was willing to attempt with a few screwdrivers and wrenches.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked, looking it over. “Looks like a door to me.”
Kathryn giggled and swatted at him playfully. “Well of course it’s a door. But try and shut it.”
He shrugged and grabbed the handle. It jiggled in his hand, but Kathryn told him to shut it. That wasn’t what she was talking about. So he pushed it closed. Sort of. It became crystal clear what the problem was when he saw half an inch worth of door overlapping at the top, with a space at the bottom.
Setting the toolbox down, he got to work while Kathryn watched.
“I didn’t know you were handy,” she remarked at one point.
“It’s a relatively new skill,” he mumbled, trying to focus on tightening the screws in the hinges as much as he could, without overdoing it. Delicate tasks like this could be tough at first, differentiating between just how much strength was necessary. The more he did it the easier it would get, but for now he had to make sure not to overdo it, lest he break something.
“Okay, let’s try that.” He stood back and gently pushed the door closed. It clicked shut without an issue at the push of a finger.
Kathryn’s face was almost aglow, and he hoped that this was a sign that perhaps she was going to overcome whatever it was that had caused her to push him away in the first place.
I still need to find out what that was.
Over the course of the next few hours he moved from place to place in their little house, fixing things as best he could with his limited skill. The internet was a wonderful tool for some of the trickier jobs, but in the end he even managed to fix the overhead fan in the kitchen as well, so it didn’t bounce and rattle in a terrifying manner when it was turned on.
“My mother can cook now!” Kathryn said, clapping her hands together happily. “She’ll be so happy. She’s not done much cooking or baking since it got too hot in here without the fan going. Thank you, Callan.”
He had just finished tiptoeing back up the stairs from the basement after putting the tools away, praying that the wood didn’t collapse under him.
“You’re welcome. It felt good to be needed. I’m supposed to be your assistant in all this, but really I’ve just been there as someone to talk to since you’re so independent.”
“I wish,” Kathryn muttered.
Callan winced to himself. This was the wrong topic. He needed to change it, and fast.
“Anyway, I should be going now, before your mother gets home.”
Good job, genius. Change it from one awkward subject to another. Way to go.
Kathryn fell silent as well, and he cursed his dumbness. Could he not just talk normally?
“I don’t think you need to worry about that happening for a bit,” she spat bitterly.
“What do you mean?”
But she shook her head, refusing to answer that as well. Yes, it was definitely time for him to go, that much was quickly becoming clear to him.
Kathryn wheeled behind him as he headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked without looking back.
“That would be nice.”
He nodded sharply and undid the bolt, grasping the handle.
“Callan, wait.”
Fingers froze around the knob. Part of him screamed out to twist it and haul the door open, to avoid whatever bombshell of bad news she was about to drop on him now. It would be better that way—just leave now, avoid it.
But the call of his dragon was too much. It wanted him to look at his mate, to see her again, to go to her. Callan wasn’t going to give in that much. He couldn’t, not until the rest of him was ready for it, not to mention Kathryn. Heaven knew if she would ever see him that way. What he could do though, was look at her. Mouth suddenly dry, hands trembling just slightly, he stood up and turned back.
Kathryn was standing, determination writ in her features and focused in her eyes, the brown turning so dark once more it was almost black. She put one foot in front of the other and moved a step closer to him. There was no wobble in it, no shake.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, not trusting his own voice. The intensity in her eyes spoke of a mission. She was going to do something, and there was nothing that he could do to stop her.
He just didn’t know what she was after. Nervous sweat threatened to break out across his forehead and under his arms as she neared him, not once speaking. Someone was beating a giant bass drum inside his head that oddly coincided with his heartbeat, and a nonexistent wind roared across his ears, filling the silent house with a sound only he could hear.
Callan was close to panicking as Kathryn took another step near. The little hairs across his body stood on their ends. He was a dragon shifter; this wasn’t supposed to be happening to him! He was far too powerful to feel such nerves. Such fear.
Was it fear?
He didn’t have time to figure it out, because all at once Kathryn was there, in his arms, and pulling his head down to her level. Instinct took over after that point, and he brushed aside several curly strands of rich brown hair to ensure he could kiss her properly.
F
ireworks exploded behind his eyes and a ferocious need erupted to life between his legs, declaring its intent with the fury of a newborn volcano. Before he realized what he was doing Callan was lifting Kathryn from the floor with a gentleness that belied the desperate desire of their kiss, pinning her against the wall. Coats fell from the coatrack unnoticed as she scrambled to grab hold of his shirt, an answering noise welling up from within Kathryn to match his own.
Her lips parted and his tongue darted in, exploring her even as their bodies pressed together like animals in heat. She didn’t have much fine control over her hips yet, but he could feel her doing her best as he grew hard, rubbing herself up and down the bulge in his jeans.
The arousal and eroticism of the moment on display from both of them stunned Callan. He’d known that she was gorgeous, that he found her attractive. But this instinct was so base, so primal that it nearly overwhelmed him, rising up like a tidal wave and crashing over the pair.
It was only with a titanic mental effort that he ripped himself and his dragon free of the moment. Knowing full well he may come to regret not having pushed further, Callan carried Kathryn back to her chair and set her in it, knowing that if his legs were as wobbly as they felt, hers would be as well.
Brown eyes and brown hair seemed to sparkle as she looked up at him through short but curled lashes, Kathryn stopping just short of batting them at him. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice returned, deep and steady as it filled the little hallway.
Not wanting to make it any more awkward, or risk his sexuality overwhelming Kathryn and convincing her to do something she didn’t want, he slipped out the door, closing it behind him.
There was no car waiting at the road for him, but that didn’t matter. Callan needed time to think, and there was nothing like the clear air of a balmy summer day to help with that. After a quick look on his phone he headed for the nearest park.
The next day was filled with a task Colonel Mara had hired him for, so any heavy thinking he was to do would need to be done today, to keep his mind clear for that. And heavy thinking seemed to abound.
It was tough for Callan to continue to deny what he had for so long. Kathryn was his mate. The kiss they had just shared made that statement more emphatically than just about anything else could have. The fire and desire, the instant arousal and response from one to another and back again, it was all just too much to argue against.
But if Kathryn was his mate…then what was Beatrice? His mind was confused, filled with the endorphin rush from the moment he’d shared with Kathryn, and the guilt over the memory of Beatrice, of betraying the woman he’d thought for so long to be his mate.
He sank down onto the first park bench he could find, ignoring the looks from passersby as it groaned under his vast bulk. Callan was lost in thought, completely unsure of everything that lay before him, and now he was also starting to question what he’d thought he’d known.
Why did women have to be so confusing?!
Chapter Thirteen
Callan
“Can I ask you something?”
They were in the back of a heavily-armored vehicle as its diesel engine snorted and roared with effort, getting them slowly up to speed as they came around a corner. Callan wasn’t sure exactly where it was they were by this point, but he knew it was somewhere between Fort Banner’s location in the mountains to the west and Barton City, their end destination.
The only reason he knew that was because he’d been made aware ahead of time their destination. Which is also when he’d freaked out on Colonel Mara and called her an idiot over the idea. As it turns out, it wasn’t her idea, but they were doing it anyway.
“About what?” Vanek didn’t turn to look at him, his attention fixed entirely on the third occupant sharing the back of the armored transport with them.
“Mates,” he said, his eyes wandering over the matte-black chitinous armor of the Outsider he’d taken down, the first prisoner of the “war” that the humans had captured.
“You’ve found yours?” Vanek sounded surprised, looking at him before quickly turning his attention back to the prisoner. “I thought you told me your mate died long ago.”
“She did. I’d thought.”
Callan’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the Outsider, trying to figure out what it was doing. Until recently it had been still, secured against the frame with the strongest restraints mankind could forge. Kallore had tried them out and he’d been unable to win his way free, despite his prodigious strength. If he couldn’t do so, then it was assumed an Outsider couldn’t break them either.
“Is it moving?” he asked.
The smoothness of its armor didn’t give away any features, so it was impossible to tell if the Outsider was looking at them or not. Yet he’d had an eerie feeling all trip long that its attention had been focused on him, almost to the full exclusion of Vanek. He was beginning to regret having agreed to Colonel Mara’s request to escort it during transport.
And why the hell were they taking it into Barton City? Shouldn’t it be going to some remote facility way the hell away from anyone? Who cares that the lab that was their destination was the only one even remotely close that could conduct the tests necessary to find out just what the hell the armor was made of—and maybe figure out a way to defeat it. They should be taking it away from the population, not keeping it closer.
“I don’t think so,” Vanek replied. “I’m so thankful they only sent the one of these through. Can you imagine if they’d tried more?”
Callan could, and he didn’t want to. “It would have been bad. I thought for sure they would have.”
“I guess when this one didn’t get back through, they aborted the effort, assuming the radiation too high still.”
“Maybe. But it certainly shortens their timespan considerably. Another year and that thing will come flying through and ready to do some serious damage.”
“Colonel Mara will have a response by then,” Vanek said with confidence.
“Hopefully.” He glared at the creature again.
“What was your question?”
Callan blinked. Right, he’d never actually asked his question.
“Is it possible for a shifter to have two mates?”
Vanek took his eyes off the Outsider for an extended moment this time, giving Callan a long, measured look.
“Not that I’m aware of,” he replied at last, sounding unhappy about delivering the news. “You’re positive this woman is your mate?”
He thought about lying, but there seemed no point to it. “Yes. My dragon knows without hesitation.”
“And you? What do you feel?”
“I feel…I feel that I already had my love. She died, and I’m betraying her if I allow myself to be mated again.”
“You’re wrong.”
Callan glared at the other dragon shifter. “How do you think?”
“You just said how you’re just too blind to your own heart to hear it. Callan, you loved the woman you lost. I can hear that in your voice, the pain is evidence of that. But loving someone is not the same as being mated to them. It’s entirely possible that your human half fell for a woman that wasn’t your mate.”
He digested that information for a minute. “So you’re saying that I can love multiple women, but only one will ever be my mate.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Vanek told him, both of them focused on the Outsider.
It was doing…something, except it wasn’t moving. But it was definitely not still. Callan’s eyes were trying to reconcile with his brain what was going on. The movements were happening on the surface of the armor, as if it were rearranging itself somehow.
“We should stop the convoy,” he suggested. “Something is happening.”
“I agree.” Vanek slammed the emergency halt button, and the engine died out without warning and the truck slowed to a halt.
“So this could actually be my mate?” he asked as they un
did their seatbelts.
“It sounds like it. Your dragon will only ever have one. But you have two halves, Callan. Humans can love multiple times, and they hurt painfully after losing that love. Just like you hurt.”
Callan let those words sink in deep, considering just what they meant when applied to his emotions. Was it possible that Kathryn was—
Without more than a split second warning, the Outsider reshaped itself. Callan had seen it grow new limbs, and alter its arm-like appendages until they grew swords from the end. But this was something different.
Shaped similar to a human with two limbs for moving and two for doing tasks, it suddenly seemed to deflate three of those limbs, pumping all the mass into the fourth. When they’d designed the cage for transport, they’d put restraints every two inches along the way, alternating between steel clamps and reinforced cables strong enough to hold up a small bridge.
Both Callan and Vanek watched in mute shock as the steel stretched and expanded as the Outsider’s right arm grew larger and larger.
Behind them the back door to the transport hissed open. Two of the newest, most advanced battlesuits had accompanied them as well, and they were deploying now, along with three squadrons of men armed with new weapons that would hopefully penetrate the Outsider’s armor—if enough of them could be applied.
It was a formidable show of force, but the real centerpiece was the two dragon shifters, each of whom summoned their weapons now. Fire rose in gentle circles from Vanek’s palms, ready to be shaped as needed, while black liquid flowed down Callan’s arms and covered his palms, forging itself into two long blades that curved over the back of his hands.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
Vanek shook his head, but before he could respond the first metal clamp gave way. The multiple-inch thick piece of metal flew outward and clipped Vanek in the head. Even his unparalleled dragon reflexes were no match for something moving that fast.
The mighty dragon flipped backward out of the transport and slammed into the concrete, a huge gash across his face and forehead gushing blood that swiftly pooled on the road next to him.
