Page 18 of Callum

He smirks, the look at complete odds with how carefully he’s holding his body. “Is that you offering, kitten?”

The word on his lips makes me want to puke, but I know what he’s doing. Lachlan MacAlister would do a lot of terrible things to me, happily and with skill, but he would never force me to have sex with him. He wouldn’t even sleep with me if I asked him to, and we both know it.

“You couldn’t handle me, Lally Bee.”

His laughter fills the room, the bright and easy sound grating against my nerves. “My club is open to you whenever you need a place to go, Rosie. Don’t forget that.”

—

“She’s a traitor.”

Hushed voices pull me from the depths of a painful sleep, the memory of Lachlan fading quickly at the sound of conversation happening around me.

“Who was she Trapping?”

Callum. I fight to open my eyes, but they don’t respond. My body is frozen, something pulling me back under before I can even reach the surface.

“He told her everything.”

What did you tell him? I lose the battle for consciousness as the memory of Ginetta’s snarled words rings through my ears.

—

Callum’s featherlight touch pulls me from a restful sleep.

“You were snoring, kitten.”

“Because I was sleeping, Callum.” My tone is admonishing, even though I’m not the least bit upset. This version of Callum, the one that wakes me in the middle of the night, pressing kisses into my sleep-warmed skin, is my favorite.

Well, it’s at least a close second. I don’t think there’s a woman in the world who could see Callum carrying out his duties as the Doctor and not positively swoon. It was the first thing that drew me to him. We were kids back then; he wasn’t the Doctor yet, but he was already building the name through his abilities—through his reputation.

“Were you at least dreaming of me, kitten?”

Always.

I was fourteen years old the first time I saw him, hands dripping with the blood of the creep whose head he’d just driven a spike through. Callum called it “DIY Spinal Trauma”, shooting me a crooked grin as if killing your enemies was something you could joke about.

Life had never been something I could joke about before.

I haven’t thought of anyone else from that moment. I’ve never needed anyone but my Callum. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy getting under his skin from time to time.

“You know, it’s the funniest thing,” I tease, enjoying the feel of him so close to me. He keeps threatening to buy me a bigger bed, something we can both fit comfortably on, but he never does it. I have a theory that it’s because he knows how much I love this, how I crave the feeling of his body, even in sleep. “I was actually dreaming of Kyler.”

“Oh, really?” He hums the question into my shoulder, one hand running the length of my spine so gently I nearly don’t feel it at all.

“Uh-huh,” I roll my head across the pillow, looking directly into his crystal blue eyes. “Dream Kyler had full use of her tongue.”

Callum laughs, the sound vibrating through him until I feel it everywhere we touch.

“You know what that means, don’t you?” Our noses bump together, his lips brushing against mine with each word. His knuckles graze against the underside of my jaw, tipping my lips up to meet his. “I’m going to have to remind you that my tongue is better.”

—

“She said Rosalind was Trapping for the MacAlisters.”

—

Every day, it grows. Every day, I’m reminded that I made the wrong choice. Every day, I look down and see the life I could have had. Every day, I feel the life I’m growing.

---