Page 33 of His Obsession

When he finally slowed, his sides heaved with exertion, his black fur glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. He came to a stop in a clearing, the world around him eerily still save for the gentlerustle of leaves in the wind. He sank to his haunches, his sharp gaze scanning the darkness as he forced his breathing to steady.

The run had helped. His mind was clearer now, though not free of the thoughts that haunted him. Isolde’s face lingered like a ghost, her scent still teasing his heightened senses.

She was like a flame, and he was drawn to her heat despite knowing it would burn him alive. No amount of running would change that.

With a low, rumbling growl, Callum rose to his paws and padded back toward the estate. He would let the beast have its moment, but it was the man who would have to face her again. And next time, he would be ready.

Or so he told himself.

12

ISOLDE

The room was bathed in soft moonlight, its silver glow spilling across the ornate furniture and casting long shadows along the walls. Isolde sat gingerly on a pillow in the padded window seat in her room, her thoughts a tangled mess as she stared at the untouched book in her lap. Sleep had been elusive ever since the confrontation with Callum earlier that evening. Every sharp word and every heated glance between them lingered in her mind like a haunting refrain.

And to top it all off, the bastard had spanked her and had made sure she knew he meant it. The worst part had been the feeling of arousal that had infused her system as he did so. And the fact that she had been sent to her room without any kind of discussion or physical release from what he had done was just the cherry on top. More frustrated than she’d ever been in her life, she threw the book across the room.

A movement outside the window caught her attention and she looked to see what it might be. There, galloping across the manicured lawns, was an enormous black panther. Her pulse stuttered, and she opened her mouth to scream. A beat later, she closed it, intrigue overriding her first instinctive panic.

The sleek, black shape moved across the grounds, its powerful body gliding through the night with an otherworldly grace. Large, smooth, and utterly out of place against the carefully trimmed hedges and pristine flowerbeds. The creature moved with purpose, its tail swishing behind it as it carried something in its mouth.

Clothing? At this distance, she couldn’t be positive.

Isolde gripped the windowsill, her mind struggling to reconcile the wild beast with the world she had come to know. The panther slowed as it reached a patch of moonlit grass, its form suddenly engulfed by a swirling mist that seemed to rise from the ground itself. Her breath caught in her throat as the mist thickened, obscuring the animal entirely.

And then the impossible happened.

The mist began to dissipate, and where the panther had stood, a man now emerged. Tall, broad-shouldered, and naked, his dark hair and sharp features unmistakable even from this distance.

Callum.

Isolde gripped the windowsill with all her might, her fingers cramping from the strength she was using as her mind raced to comprehend what she’d just witnessed. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. And yet, there he was, standing in the moonlight, the same bundle of what she was now sure was his discarded clothing clutched in one hand as if nothing extraordinary had just occurred.

She watched in stunned silence as Callum disappeared into the shadows, heading toward the mansion with the same deliberate stride that always seemed to command the space around him. Her shock quickly gave way to a need to know. She needed answers, but a part of her already believed she had at least some of them. Siobhan had once told her tales of large black panthers that roamed throughout Ireland and the rest ofthe United Kingdom. She had even suggested that they were descendants of shape-shifting creatures that could change from an animal form to human and back again. Isolde had written it off as a fairytale, but given what she’d just seen, her friend might not have been making anything up.

Isolde rose from the window seat and made her way to the door into the hallway. The upstairs hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow of sconces illuminating the rich wood paneling and plush runner underfoot. Isolde stepped out of her room, her heart pounding as she made her way toward the staircase. She didn’t have far to go. Callum was already at the top of the stairs, his shirt half-buttoned, his dark hair still damp from what she could only assume was the night air.

“Callum!” she called, her voice sharper than she intended.

He paused mid-step, raising his head so his gaze locked onto hers. For a moment, he didn’t move, his expression unreadable as he watched her descend toward him.

“Isolde,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “What are you doing awake?”

“What am I doing awake?” she echoed, her hands tightening around the banister. “That’s a foolish question. It’s not that late. I think the better question is, what were you doing outside?”

He arched an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint grin. “I wasn’t aware my movements required an explanation.”

She stepped closer, her pulse racing. “Don’t play coy with me, Callum. I saw you.”

“Saw me?” His smile faded, replaced by something colder. “And what exactly do you think you saw?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, the memory of the transformation still fresh in her mind. “I saw… a panther. Running across the lawn. And then—then there was mist, and you were there. Naked. How is that possible? How could—” Shebroke off, shaking her head as if trying to make sense of it herself. “What are you?”

The silence between them was unsettling with things left unsaid. Callum proceeded down the hallway, his movements deliberate as he came to stand before her. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and for the first time, she saw something unguarded there. Something primal and unguarded.

He nodded. “Then once again you’ve seen something you shouldn’t have,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “I suspect you have questions. I need a shower. You can either follow me to my bedroom, or once I’m cleaned up I can join you in yours.”

“I think I have a right to know,” she demanded softly.

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