Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Rory

Something brutal happened to his heart when their mouths met. Callisto's choice seemed obvious. She was choosing him. A hand. She was choosing to accept his offer to buffer her from the rest of the world. Maybe she could start to let go of all the miseries she was carrying, those burdens far too heavy for her alone. He finally understood what was so different about Callisto. It wasn't her muteness that made her unlike anyone else. It was the expectation of additional tragedies and pain to be forthcoming. She didn't just move through life with the weight of memory. She lived with both threat, and foresight of more to come.

She'd been rejected as a baby for something beyond her control. How could someone live their life knowing that they were unwanted and imperfect, knowing that they'd been thrown away like a bag of garbage?

The brutal thing that exploded in his chest wasn't just passion. It wasn't simply wonder at the way their bodies fit together after Callisto crushed herself up against him. It wasn't just desire because she smelled like apple blossom, forest, fresh air and the bitterness of hurt. It wasn't only the heat of her or the feel of her lips. It was more like a tear in the organ that drove his whole body. He didn't know the half of it, but she was his mate and she'd been wronged. It was his duty to right the injustice, to keep her from hurt and harm. She hadn't pushed him away. She hadn't rejected him with her anger or her body or her intentions. She'd reached for him.

She clung to him now, her nails biting into his shoulders. Her kiss was aggressive and nearly violent. She was teeth and wounds, rage and surrender. He'd never been kissed that way before. He'd never kissed anyone that way either. He didn't mind that she was more aggressive. The moment called for it, but he didn't think it was just the moment and he was okay with that. His blood responded. It felt like being doused in cold and scalding water from opposite directions. She kissed him like she was barely holding it together. Like she was scored to the bone by memories and his knowing. She kissed him like she was the one who had to keep fighting, always. Just because she agreed to his help didn't mean she was ever going stop being a warrior.

She was channeling her strength into something else. Into him.

His hands gently eased down to her waist. He held her like he had to steady her, but she wasn't trembling. She swept her hand to the back of his neck in response and dug her nails into the sensitive skin below his hair, but the kiss eased slightly.

He could taste her now, her lips soft and sweet. She'd banished the shame and the hurt, tucked it up inside herself. It was just her.

She broke away before he expected it. She twisted and grabbed her notebook. One hand fell away, and one stayed at her hip. She wrote something quickly, her brows crashing down into a furious frown.

"Hey. It's okay." He tried to tilt her face up, but she shook him off. He dropped his other hand immediately and stepped back, giving her space. "Callisto. There's no rush. I know you're frustrated that we can't communicate easily, but take your time."

She crossed something off violently, flipping the page over and starting fresh.

She finally turned the notebook around and his heart cracked wide open.

HOW ARE YOU NOT DISGUTED BY ME? I'VE BETRAYED YOU. MY FAMILY REJECTED ME, I'M NOTHING.

"No." She searched his face, trying to keep her expression hard, but he saw the bright sparks of relief that lit up her eyes until they were nearly jade. "That's not true."

I'VE FOUGHT SO HARD TO PROVE IT'S NOT, BUT I'M STILL HERE AND MY FAMILY IS STILL THERE. THEY REJECTED ME FOR A REASON. THOSE ARE UNDISPUTABLE FACTS.

"What your parents did doesn't make you less. If you were given away because you're mute, that says more about the people who should have loved you, than anything about you. The fact that you are strong, that you're a leader, that you can still show so much love to those around you is everything."

WHY ARE YOU SO GOOD?

He chuckled in surprise. "Why should I not be? Why should I not want to help you?"

She tried several times to write something, then after turning the third fresh page, her head snapped up. She thrust the notebook into his chest. He took her face between his rough palms. Her skin was smooth and silky. He'd just tasted her lips, but he was still surprised at just how delicate she felt. It was like holding fire and steel and finding that they had a soft outer layer.

"Callisto." She looked past him. "Look at me, please."

Her eyes swept to his face and her lips twisted. She could speak with her expressions when she wanted to. He feathered one finger over her lips, over her cheek, up to her forehead. He smoothed her hair. Her beathing changed, hitching and going jerky. When he stepped closer, the notebook still biting into his muscle, and dropped a kiss to her red gold hair, she gasped. The air dragged out of her lungs rough and sudden, forcing the sound out.

"Beautiful," he whispered to her hair.

She tried to tear away again, and he let her. She wrote with the same speed and ferocity she had all along and turned the page to him.

YOU'RE A GOOD MAN. TOO GOOD FOR ME.

"That's not true either. Please hear me. You are worthy. This isn't measured in good or bad or right or wrong. This is beyond that. You don't have to apologize. This is beyond that too."

She took the notebook back and held it with trembling hands. He was stunned when she tossed it and the pen over her shoulder. She took hold of his shirt again, grasping him by the collar. She jerked herself up against him and hauled his face down to hers. He kissed her with a fevered eagerness. She kissed him like she wanted to be inside of him. She still wasn't sure if she could trust him and that made sense, after a lifetime of reasons not to. Her mouth fought with his. She circled her arms around his neck and climbed him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He was surprised and had to take a step forward to keep from losing his balance. One of the stainless-steel tables was right behind them. He set her down on it. She tore buttons off his shirt, so they rained down around them.

"Are you sure?" He growled. "If at any time you want to stop and you can't make me hear you, shove me away. Shake your head. Give me a sign that I can look for."

She nodded and held up a fist, then uncurled three fingers.

"Okay. I've got it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop." She nodded again. "Does that mean yes you do?" She rolled her eyes and tugged on his shirt. He stepped between her spread legs. Her nails scored a hot path down his chest. He groaned. She hadn't drawn blood, but there were bright pink marks all the way down from his neck to his jeans.

She kissed him again, crushing her mouth to his with so much force that he forgot how to breathe. He could feel the way she trembled, but it wasn't with fear or anger now. It was the same force surging through him.

She swung herself off the table with astonishing ease. Her shoulders rose and fell with breaths that were almost silent while he panted like a beast. She stood against the cold steel for a second and then jerked him around.

"Me?"

She nodded.

He sat. This wasn't how he'd imagined it would go, with her in charge like this, the aggressor, but he didn't mind. It didn't feel the least bit emasculating to let her show him what she wanted. She couldn't tell him. She trusted him and if she wanted to be on top of him, directing him through action, he wasn't going to complain about that.

Nope. He had no complaints when she shoved him back on the counter a few more inches with a hard push to his chest and got up there in one impressive leap. She straddled him, her body burning through the layers of black clothing. He watched her chest rise and fall. She no longer seemed so in control of herself. Her breaths were rough again, her shoulders rising and falling jerkily like his.

She picked up his hand and guided it to her breast. She arched her back, thrusting the globe into his palm. He choked when he felt the hard ridge of her nipple through the fabric. Her hips bucked into him, grinding against the hard bulge in his jeans when he smoothed his finger over it. She spread her legs wider, rocking against him. She watched him the entire time, those once light, soft orbs now darker and harder and so much hotter.

She tore off her own shirt and unclasped her bra while he watched, transfixed like a statue. She arched close to his face, guiding her breast to his mouth. He could have died right there as he suckled her nipple, his tongue rolling over the tight bud. Her body shook, her hands raking through his hair. One hand travelled slowly down his chest, her fingertips pressing on the nail marks until they stung. He hissed against her nipple, which made her shudder. She traced over his stomach, down to his jeans.

She created a whole language with her hands, spoke with them, gestured, made herself known. She was good with them. She unbuttoned his jeans easily, unzipped his fly, and took his cock out without the slightest hesitation. He was amazed at how easily she'd taken him out through the layers that should have been in her way.

She made a tight fist and stroked it down his length. It was so good that his head fell back, and he made an animal sound.

While straddling him and stroking him, she managed to somehow slip out of her leggings. One leg and then the other. How had he ever found her in the woods? Caught her? She was far more agile than he ever knew a person could be, and holy fuck, the things she was doing to his dick with just her palm were enough to kill him.

Heat flared through him when she put a hand on his chest and pushed. There was counter to spare and he curved himself down. She was naked above him and he'd just created the perfect seat for her. She spread her legs wide around him. it had to hurt, but she didn't flinch. He tried to make it easier for her to lower herself down, but she took his hand again, this time bringing it to the back of her neck. He spread his fingers there, and whether she wanted to be held down, controlled, or just braced, he didn't know, but he kept it there. He'd liked the feel of her palm at his nape when she'd touched him that way.

"Are you okay?" he rasped when he felt her guide him to her entrance.

She nodded. She bit down on her bottom lip, concentrating. He had to stop watching her and stop focusing on how good it already felt. It had been a while since he'd been with a woman—years if his memory served him correctly—and if he was going to last beyond a few minutes, he needed to distract himself.

The sight in front of him served to heat his lust rather than calm it, so he focused all his attention on her pleasure.

He cupped her breast with his free hand, brushing her nipple gently as it hardened under his touch. Callisto was already wet. He was aware, but not fully aware until she took his hand off her breast and put it between her legs. She guided his fingers through her slick folds. They were soaked with one pass. She guided it to his mouth and as soon as she painted his lips with it, she leaned in and kissed him.

Holy fuck, what was I saying about not going too fast?

He was just about ready to black out. His balls were in danger of bursting. He felt the telltale tingles shooting through his shaft that warned him he was going to have a short fuse.

Either Callisto knew or she could scent how close he was to coming, because she looked around her, then immediately disentangled herself. She got off the table, leaving him a panting mess. His cock was leaking droplets of precum everywhere and his jeans were wet where Callisto sat on him.

There was a mischievous glint in her eye and she pointed up, it took him a few seconds to realize she didn't mean the living quarters above or the sky, but one of the hooks that he sometimes hung meat from. She didn't look disgusted about it. That wasn't her point.

"I- I'm afraid I don't understand."

She was so comfortable with her nakedness. So at ease. Completely unashamed. Not that she had anything to not like. She was a masterpiece. His cock throbbed painfully just from watching her. She was perfectly shaped. Her breasts were full and round, her stomach hard with the slight outline of abs, her long legs like something from legends of old. Who was the goddess of beauty? He wasn't sure, but he bet that if she'd existed right now, she'd be jealous of the woman in front of him. Jealous enough to cause the trouble and mischief Greek gods were famed for.

Callisto didn't reach for her notebook, which was currently MIA from where she'd thrown it. She snatched her leggings off the floor and wrapped them around her wrists then lifted her arms well above her head.

Christ. Seeing her unfold and stretch that way completely naked…

He finally got it. The hook. The bindings. Her hand.

"You want me to hang you from the roof?" He yelped.

She shrugged. Gauged the distance and then motioned with her hand like it was no big deal. She raised her arms again and stood on her tiptoes, indicating that it wasn't so high.

"That's going to…" He swallowed hard. "That's going to hurt."

She shook her head.

‘And when you're strung up there, what do you want me to do to you?"

He kind of got the idea, maybe she wanted it to be like some kind of sex swing or whatever, but he was trying to figure out the logistics.

She found her notebook with surprising ease. The pen was threaded through the coils, so it hadn't been lost. She threw it down on the counter after a minute.

I WANT YOU TO TIE ME UP, SPREAD MY LEGS, GET ON YOUR KNEES AND EAT MY PUSSY. HOW YOU FUCK ME AFTER IS UP TO YOU.

That produced another swallow and a long breath. It shuddered out of him. If he exploded all over himself like a teenager, would that kill the vibe? There was no doubt in his mind that his dick would be perfectly hard, probably after multiple times.

His mouth had never been dryer. He got off the table and shucked off his jeans. He couldn't do any of that with his dick hanging out with any sort of dignity, but like any other shifter he was perfectly comfortable with his own nakedness.

He took the leggings from Callisto. She raised her arms up for him, and when he leaned in close, she kissed him, nipping his lip hard enough to draw blood. She ran her tongue over the cut, tasting the metal of him, all entirely soundless of course. It wasn't unnerving. It was hotter, if anything.

He was used to tying good knots that had to hold a lot of weight, with thick rope or sometimes he'd attach chains. The leggings were soft, so they wouldn't hurt Callisto's wrists, and after looping the makeshift restraints over the hook he realized he'd never be able to look at his shop in the same way.

He wanted to wait a few minutes to prove he wasn't beyond desperate, but it was impossible. Seeing her standing there, her gaze hot and loaded was too much. He fell to his knees and spread her legs. Her skin was so soft, silk against his rough palms. She closed her eyes, her head falling back.

"How will I know if you're okay?" He asked. "You won't be able to show me.

She swung one foot off the floor and planted it on his chest.

"Yeah." He murmured. "Okay. You kick me right over if you wish."

She grinned wickedly like she might just do it anyway. Why the hell was that hot too?

He spread her legs slightly further apart, opening her to him. She was perfect there too. Perfect and wet. He had to go slow, not for himself, but for her.

He didn't touch her with his hands other than to grasp her thighs. He was just rough enough not to hurt, but so she could feel him there, holding her open. He licked her slowly, gathering that sweet wetness up with his tongue, spreading her open that way. He could feel her muscles tense and relax as his tongue found a rhythm.

Fuck, he wanted to dive in. He wanted to destroy her with his mouth. He wanted to fuck her with his tongue until her whole body was twisting and thrashing around, her arms straining against the bindings.

Callisto thought she was flawed, but she was so profoundly wrong. He'd never known such glorious perfection.