Chapter Thirty–Nine

CHAPTER THIRTY–NINE

A s Callum lay under Apex’s too-still body, he turned his face to the side and tried to catch his breath. Deep inside of him, the vampire’s cock was twitching in the aftermath of a violent orgasm. It had been the same for Callum. He’d come so hard, he’d thought his skull was going to explode. And now that the storm was over . . . he knew it had been wrong.

In the silence, he was very aware that a line had been crossed. It was obvious even before Apex stiffly retracted himself, got off the end of the bed, and did up his pants. While saying absolutely nothing.

It was the first time Apex didn’t ask him if he was okay.

Because Apex wasn’t okay.

Looking over his shoulder, Callum felt a piercing pain in the center of his chest. Especially as Apex stared at the open door to the stairway with the kind of haunted expression Callum had seen in his own mirror every night.

“I’m sorry,” Callum said in a voice that cracked. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” came the dead response.

No, it wasn’t. It was as if he’d infected the other male with his . . . everything.

“I’m going to go now.” Apex finally glanced over. “I just . . . need to go now.”

Rolling onto his back, Callum pulled the duvet across to cover his nakedness and sat up. “Thank you.”

Apex closed his eyes. “Don’t say that. Not after . . . whatever that was.”

“Not for the sex. For . . . everything else.”

The vampire just walked over to the door. Hell, he’d already left, and who could blame him. Callum had used him like an exorcist, to banish a demon it was up to himself to get rid of. Damned if he knew how, though—and in his lost, fumbling way, he was very aware, deep down in his soul, that he had ruined something beautiful.

Apex said something that didn’t carry, and then the male was disappearing down the steps.

“I’m sorry,” Callum repeated loudly.

There was no response to that.

As the door shut below, he closed his eyes. For once, the darkness didn’t bring that female to his mind. Instead, he saw those fragile flowers his vampire had brought him, all those years ago.

He’d managed to kill it all. He really had.

Getting out of bed, he stubbed his toe on the open suitcase, and all he could do was just stand there and think about what he was going to put in it. There wasn’t much because he didn’t have much. Just a couple of shirts, some pants and socks. No underwear. Two pairs of boots.

He had nothing of real value. Maybe he should just ditch it all, and leave it for the next groundskeeper to pick through.

In a sad daze, he descended the stairwell naked. He could still smell Apex’s sexual arousal—it was on his own skin, inside of him, in between his legs. When he got to the narrow footer at the bottom, he started his change as he opened the side door.

So that as he emerged, he was on all fours.

Letting his wolf go, he watched from the back of their combined consciousness as his animal side took him away, far, far away. It was a relief to just give up—even though he knew where his wolf was taking him because they’d always communicated on a base level. It was how the beast had known to protect Mahrci, to make sure those coyotes got good and gone. And how it had not hurt Apex or Mayhem.

And why it had been aware that it was important to stay with Apex when the male had been talking out on the front porch. About the life the male had imagined for them.

Yes, he even liked Wheaties, Callum thought.

Why had he lied about hearing all that?

Probably because at the time it had been too much closeness.

Oh, God, what had he done.

At least his wolf was taking him away so he could do no more damage: They were going back to where he had begun, where he had been born and raised. Back to Deer Mountain, and the cave with the hot spring that had at one point been his home.

Far, far away, from the vampire who had loved him more than he deserved.

Never to return.