Thanks for being patient with my delayed posts lately! I've had a lot going on and haven't been able to find much time to write. Plus, this chapter is the longest yet in this book, and dealt with some pretty heavy stuff that I had to be in the right headspace to put into words. Thanks for reading!
VANESSAI glance over at Callum as he drives, the shadows dancing ominously across his profile.He really is beautiful. His face is seared into my memory, but I still get caught up in looking at him sometimes, admiring his sharp jawline and impeccable bone structure. The symmetry of his features is almost too perfect to be real- like he was cut from stone, some sculptor’s fantasy brought to life.It’s not his face that gets me, though. Or even his body, stacked with mouth-watering lean muscle that ripples with every movement. It’s the way he sets me ablaze with a single glance. The way he puts on a hard front with other people but softens all of his sharp edges for me. The way he lets me see the real him, and the way he really sees me.It’s the sweet words and the gentle touches and the all-consuming intensity of his presence. Every time I’m with him, I’m reminded why I fell for him in the first place- and why even after everything he put me through, I’m still hopelessly, crazily, irr
CALLUMIt’s going to storm.I can smell it in the air even before I hear the faint echo of thunder in the distance, a warning of what’s coming.We need the rain. The blistering summer sun has made the grass brittle, the forest foliage withering with thirst. Even the river is lower than I’ve seen it in years, in desperate need of a top-up. Sitting outside on the patio behind the packhouse, there’s an unmistakable energy in the air, almost like the parched landscape is quivering in anticipation for the storm to roll in.Within myself, the storm is already raging. It has been for a long time, born in a dark room in a basement, fed by anger and resentment. Until I found the one person who could calm it: Vanessa Diaz, my muse, my light.“You good?” Chase asks, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint we smoked.I grunt in affirmation, nodding. My own high is already gone, but the weed calmed me down as it worked its way through my system, tempering my agitation. Pulling the skeletons out of
VANESSA“Callum,” I whine, squirming atop the soft cotton sheets. Bright sunlight pours in through the window across from my bed, illuminating him in all his naked glory.He only grunts in response.I bury my hands in his hair, tugging on the strands. “C’mon, we have to leave this room,” I pant, a little tremor wracking my body as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “We at least have to eat…”He lifts his head with an arched brow, licking his lips and hitting me with a panty-melting smirk. “What do you think I’m trying to do down here?” He lowers his head between my thighs again before I can respond, his tongue lashing against my clit, earning a hoarse moan from my lips.“I… I… oh god, right there…” I babble, my back arching off the bed as he screws a finger into my tight hole again, curving it upwards to press against that same spot inside that has me falling to pieces against his face.I’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s wrung out of me since we locked ourselves in here last
CALLUM“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” Troy mutters dryly as he forces his way past me into my apartment.My muscles lock up as his shoulder knocks into mine. “Yeah, well I knew you wouldn’t stop calling until I picked up,” I grumble.I glare after my stepfather as he strides right into the living room like he owns the damn place, and all the effort I put into calming myself prior to this interaction is immediately wasted at the sight of him in my space. My jaw ticks in agitation, fingers twitching at my sides. I’m not fond of anybody intruding on my space, Nessa being the only exception.That’s who I’m really doing this for. My girl is an idealist; she can’t abide not seeing wrongs righted, so if there’s one to uncover here, I’ll try, for her. I finally picked up one of Troy’s calls this morning and told him he could come over for a chat, though I still have doubts about Chase’s plan actually working. It’s clever, but he doesn’t know Troy like I do. It’d take a sledg
VANESSA My fingertips ghost over the delicate lines of the drawing in my lap, in awe of the painstaking detail that went into every stroke of the pencil to create it. It’s a depiction of me- like every other sketch in this book- and in this one, my eyes are the main feature, crinkled at the edges, a giveaway that I’m smiling even though my fists are tucked in front of my mouth to hide it. My hair frames my face in loose waves, every strand etched with such precision that you can see the movement in the drawing like it’s captured a moment in time. Callum is so freaking talented, and something hot burns in my chest every time I look through these drawings, his love poured onto every page. It’s a heady feeling, being his muse. Being the subject of his art, the object of his affection. It’s immense and overwhelming. Nobody sees me like Callum Conway does. The sound of a key turning in the lock of his apartment door yanks me out of the trance I’m in, and I jerk my head up, looking toward
CALLUMI don’t typically get nervous. Agitated and pissed off, sure. Annoyed, definitely. But nervous? It’s not a frequent state for me, at least it wasn’t until recently.Since I returned from the mission, it’s like I’ve lived in a constant state of apprehension. Coming clean about my past and trying to win Nessa back came with a heavy dose of nerves, as did confronting Troy, but after successfully navigating all of that, I thought I was finally in the clear. Troy was exiled last week. Nessa has remained by my side, and we’re closer than ever. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been more at peace that I have been this week, but now here I am again, a fumbling, uneasy bundle of nervous energy as I walk with Nessa up to the front door of her family’s house.“You’ve already won me over, but now you have to win my parents.”That’s what Nessa said when she invited me to this dinner, and my anxiety has been on overdrive since. I’ve never been great with parents, and the thought of coming f
VANESSA My hands tremble as I wait for Callum to arrive at the cabin. It’s the same place I waited during each of the full moons when he was gone, blindly hoping he’d walk through that door and everything would be okay again. He never did, and it never was, but tonight’s different. Tonight, we planned to forgo the full moon run with our respective packs and meet here instead. Tonight, I know he’s actually coming, but even that knowledge does little to calm my frantic heart. We could’ve picked somewhere else to meet, but this felt right, almost poetic. This place is full of cruel memories, but they’re ours. We can’t pretend that part of our story never happened or gloss over the hard times. They all make up the patchwork of our messy, imperfect path of coming together, of finding our way back to one another. It hasn’t been easy, but can you ever fully appreciate the happy ending if you didn’t claw tooth and nail to get it? I wait in the dark, surrounded by the ghosts of our past, th
CALLUM “Okay, Levi has really stepped up his jungle juice game,” Nessa comments, plucking a cherry from her red plastic cup and bringing it to her lips. She sinks her teeth into the fruit, tugging off the stem and smiling in satisfaction as she chews. If by ‘stepping it up’ she means adding actual fruit to the concoction as a garnish, then sure. Though Levi’s jungle juice recipe is still basically jet fuel disguised as fruit punch. Tastes great, but has a nasty kick that you don’t feel sneaking up on you until it’s too late. Still, the people here can’t seem to get enough of the stuff. I sling an arm over Nessa’s shoulders and lean back on the sofa, taking in the familiar scene at the packhouse tonight: a bar set up in one corner, large speakers in the other, and a sea of bodies crowded in between. The flow of liquor is seemingly endless and the pungent aroma of marijuana smoke lingers in the air. Girls are dancing throughout the room while guys vie for their attention, but I’ve onl
VANESSA***Four and a Half Years Later***My knee jumps nervously as I sit rigidly on the edge of the bed, my mind turning over anxious thoughts while I stare at the red glow of the numbers on the bedside clock. He should be home any minute now. It isn’t unusual for Callum to take short trips to Denver these days since he’s apprenticing with a tattoo artist there, but the wait for him to return this time has been particularly brutal. The past two days have felt like the longest of my life.Even before the bedroom door opens, I know he’s back. It’s just like in those early days when I could feel him before I saw him. Our souls are magnetized to one another’s, and through the bond they’ve become even more fused and interwoven. There was a time when I’d given up hope that I’d ever feel this with him again; when I woke up alone in the cabin after he left, when I felt the bond being torn from my skin under the next full moon. But then fate saw fit to give us a second chance. I’m still not
CALLUM “Okay, Levi has really stepped up his jungle juice game,” Nessa comments, plucking a cherry from her red plastic cup and bringing it to her lips. She sinks her teeth into the fruit, tugging off the stem and smiling in satisfaction as she chews. If by ‘stepping it up’ she means adding actual fruit to the concoction as a garnish, then sure. Though Levi’s jungle juice recipe is still basically jet fuel disguised as fruit punch. Tastes great, but has a nasty kick that you don’t feel sneaking up on you until it’s too late. Still, the people here can’t seem to get enough of the stuff. I sling an arm over Nessa’s shoulders and lean back on the sofa, taking in the familiar scene at the packhouse tonight: a bar set up in one corner, large speakers in the other, and a sea of bodies crowded in between. The flow of liquor is seemingly endless and the pungent aroma of marijuana smoke lingers in the air. Girls are dancing throughout the room while guys vie for their attention, but I’ve onl
VANESSA My hands tremble as I wait for Callum to arrive at the cabin. It’s the same place I waited during each of the full moons when he was gone, blindly hoping he’d walk through that door and everything would be okay again. He never did, and it never was, but tonight’s different. Tonight, we planned to forgo the full moon run with our respective packs and meet here instead. Tonight, I know he’s actually coming, but even that knowledge does little to calm my frantic heart. We could’ve picked somewhere else to meet, but this felt right, almost poetic. This place is full of cruel memories, but they’re ours. We can’t pretend that part of our story never happened or gloss over the hard times. They all make up the patchwork of our messy, imperfect path of coming together, of finding our way back to one another. It hasn’t been easy, but can you ever fully appreciate the happy ending if you didn’t claw tooth and nail to get it? I wait in the dark, surrounded by the ghosts of our past, th
CALLUMI don’t typically get nervous. Agitated and pissed off, sure. Annoyed, definitely. But nervous? It’s not a frequent state for me, at least it wasn’t until recently.Since I returned from the mission, it’s like I’ve lived in a constant state of apprehension. Coming clean about my past and trying to win Nessa back came with a heavy dose of nerves, as did confronting Troy, but after successfully navigating all of that, I thought I was finally in the clear. Troy was exiled last week. Nessa has remained by my side, and we’re closer than ever. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been more at peace that I have been this week, but now here I am again, a fumbling, uneasy bundle of nervous energy as I walk with Nessa up to the front door of her family’s house.“You’ve already won me over, but now you have to win my parents.”That’s what Nessa said when she invited me to this dinner, and my anxiety has been on overdrive since. I’ve never been great with parents, and the thought of coming f
VANESSA My fingertips ghost over the delicate lines of the drawing in my lap, in awe of the painstaking detail that went into every stroke of the pencil to create it. It’s a depiction of me- like every other sketch in this book- and in this one, my eyes are the main feature, crinkled at the edges, a giveaway that I’m smiling even though my fists are tucked in front of my mouth to hide it. My hair frames my face in loose waves, every strand etched with such precision that you can see the movement in the drawing like it’s captured a moment in time. Callum is so freaking talented, and something hot burns in my chest every time I look through these drawings, his love poured onto every page. It’s a heady feeling, being his muse. Being the subject of his art, the object of his affection. It’s immense and overwhelming. Nobody sees me like Callum Conway does. The sound of a key turning in the lock of his apartment door yanks me out of the trance I’m in, and I jerk my head up, looking toward
CALLUM“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” Troy mutters dryly as he forces his way past me into my apartment.My muscles lock up as his shoulder knocks into mine. “Yeah, well I knew you wouldn’t stop calling until I picked up,” I grumble.I glare after my stepfather as he strides right into the living room like he owns the damn place, and all the effort I put into calming myself prior to this interaction is immediately wasted at the sight of him in my space. My jaw ticks in agitation, fingers twitching at my sides. I’m not fond of anybody intruding on my space, Nessa being the only exception.That’s who I’m really doing this for. My girl is an idealist; she can’t abide not seeing wrongs righted, so if there’s one to uncover here, I’ll try, for her. I finally picked up one of Troy’s calls this morning and told him he could come over for a chat, though I still have doubts about Chase’s plan actually working. It’s clever, but he doesn’t know Troy like I do. It’d take a sledg
VANESSA“Callum,” I whine, squirming atop the soft cotton sheets. Bright sunlight pours in through the window across from my bed, illuminating him in all his naked glory.He only grunts in response.I bury my hands in his hair, tugging on the strands. “C’mon, we have to leave this room,” I pant, a little tremor wracking my body as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “We at least have to eat…”He lifts his head with an arched brow, licking his lips and hitting me with a panty-melting smirk. “What do you think I’m trying to do down here?” He lowers his head between my thighs again before I can respond, his tongue lashing against my clit, earning a hoarse moan from my lips.“I… I… oh god, right there…” I babble, my back arching off the bed as he screws a finger into my tight hole again, curving it upwards to press against that same spot inside that has me falling to pieces against his face.I’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s wrung out of me since we locked ourselves in here last
CALLUMIt’s going to storm.I can smell it in the air even before I hear the faint echo of thunder in the distance, a warning of what’s coming.We need the rain. The blistering summer sun has made the grass brittle, the forest foliage withering with thirst. Even the river is lower than I’ve seen it in years, in desperate need of a top-up. Sitting outside on the patio behind the packhouse, there’s an unmistakable energy in the air, almost like the parched landscape is quivering in anticipation for the storm to roll in.Within myself, the storm is already raging. It has been for a long time, born in a dark room in a basement, fed by anger and resentment. Until I found the one person who could calm it: Vanessa Diaz, my muse, my light.“You good?” Chase asks, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint we smoked.I grunt in affirmation, nodding. My own high is already gone, but the weed calmed me down as it worked its way through my system, tempering my agitation. Pulling the skeletons out of
VANESSAI glance over at Callum as he drives, the shadows dancing ominously across his profile.He really is beautiful. His face is seared into my memory, but I still get caught up in looking at him sometimes, admiring his sharp jawline and impeccable bone structure. The symmetry of his features is almost too perfect to be real- like he was cut from stone, some sculptor’s fantasy brought to life.It’s not his face that gets me, though. Or even his body, stacked with mouth-watering lean muscle that ripples with every movement. It’s the way he sets me ablaze with a single glance. The way he puts on a hard front with other people but softens all of his sharp edges for me. The way he lets me see the real him, and the way he really sees me.It’s the sweet words and the gentle touches and the all-consuming intensity of his presence. Every time I’m with him, I’m reminded why I fell for him in the first place- and why even after everything he put me through, I’m still hopelessly, crazily, irr