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Chapter 17

17

ISOLDE

D uring the night, Callum flipped her onto her belly and then dragged her up onto her knees. He positioned himself between her legs, and the large, bulbous head of his cock began to breach her from behind.

Pleasure and surprise intermingled in the gasp she made as he pressed in. His cock was enormous, and she could feel the raised nubs he’d warned her about all along its length. He meant to truly claim her in the ancient ways of his kind. Isolde knew once he was inside her and drew back, the barbs that covered his cock would score the inside of her pussy.

As incredibly aroused as he’d managed to make and keep her, he didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry. He thrust in carefully, a slow, almost gentle motion. With each forward movement of his hips, he went a little deeper before drawing himself back. He hadn’t relinquished control and gone feral, as the barbs had yet to release.

She moaned and purred in supplication and surrender. There was something about the way he fucked her that made her feel more alive than she ever had. He had explained that he meant to claim her with a claiming bite to the back of her neck. No matter the circumstances that had brought them to this time and place, she wanted Callum in a way she’d never wanted anyone.

He wrapped his hands around her hips, holding her firmly in place. Callum growled as he surged in, drawing forth an orgasmic response. Isolde cried out as he shoved himself inside, all the way to the base of his cock. For a moment he held himself still, but Isolde wasn’t having it. She couldn’t stand it. She needed him, and she needed more. She wanted to feel him thrusting inside her, possessing her body as his teeth sank deep into the nape of her neck, claiming her soul as he claimed her heart and body.

He gripped her hips tighter as the barbs protruded along his length, digging into the tender flesh of her wet heat. He dragged himself back, and she yowled as she climaxed again. She’d never felt anything like the exquisitely painful pleasure of his barbs raking her inner walls. She almost managed to catch her breath before he pushed back in. He flattened the barbs more closely to his length, only to draw back, causing them to stiffen and score her flesh once again.

Callum plunged deep, setting up a rhythm that was hard, rough, and possessive. The barbs were pain and pleasure morphed into one. He fucked in and out, pounding her pussy, his cock finding that sensitive spot inside her as he hammered away.

He leaned over her back, covering her body as he rode her ruthlessly, seeming not to care that she barely had time to breathe between orgasms as he took her higher and higher. Her body stiffened in anticipation, dreading what she knew was about to come, but he drove the fear from her as he continued his relentless possession. Nosing her hair out of his way, he surged into her a final time with a brutal thrust as his teeth sank into the nape of her neck, claiming her as his own.

Callum grasped her neck in his teeth as he held himself tight against her. His body shivered, his cock pumping his seed as he came. She felt the warmth of his cum fill her and soothe the ravaged walls of her pussy. It seemed to take forever until he was empty and only when her pussy had milked the last of him from his staff did he release her neck, then run his tongue over the bite mark again and again.

“You’re mine now,” he rumbled deep.

“An ‘I love you’ wouldn’t go amiss,’” she managed to quip.

“I thought that went without saying.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I apologize. I love you, Isolde.”

“Good. Then I love you, too.”

He chuckled but remained inside her long after he’d come, as though he were reluctant to leave her.

The warm sun bathed the garden in a golden glow, the light catching on the dew still clinging to the velvety petals of her mother’s roses. Isolde stood in the shadow of the trellis, her back pressed to Callum’s chest, the solid warmth of him grounding her as the heady scent of flowers wrapped around them. His heartbeat, steady and strong, thudded against her back, matching the slow, measured breath she took to calm her nerves.

From their vantage point, she could see her father standing near the fountain, his familiar silhouette a stark reminder of the life she once led. James Fitzwilliam’s hand was outstretched, clasping that of Conchobar O’Neill in a gesture that was both solemn and symbolic. The reunion of their families under a new arrangement marked the end of decades of fear and animosity and the beginning of something entirely new.

“Are you certain about this?” Callum’s deep voice rumbled against her ear, his arms tightening slightly around her waist. His breath tickled her skin, and despite everything they’d endured, a faint smile tugged at her lips.

“It’s too late to turn back now,” she replied softly, her gaze fixed on the men in the distance. “Besides, I think we both know this is the right thing—for the foundation, for Dublin… for us.”

Callum hummed low in his throat, the sound a mix of agreement and possessiveness. “You’ve changed, mo chroí .”

She tilted her head to look up at him, her amber eyes catching the sunlight as she studied his sharp features. “Of course I have. I’m a shifter now. But you’ve changed, as well.”

A faint smirk curved his lips. “Not much.”

Isolde arched a brow, her tone teasing despite the truth woven into her words. “Oh, no? The man who couldn’t let anyone close now stands here, his hands wrapped around a woman who’s turned his world upside down.”

Callum chuckled, the sound rich and full of something she couldn’t quite name. “Upside down, indeed.”

The past month had been a whirlwind—a chaotic dance of survival and transformation. Bradford’s arrest had unraveled a web of corruption that stretched further than anyone had imagined, his downfall punctuated by the revelation of his alliance with Lynch. Eoin’s death at Deirdre’s hands had been a turning point, a moment that underscored just how far they were all willing to go to protect what mattered.

And then there was Isolde herself. She had shed the skin of the naive socialite she once was, embracing the survivor within—and, more recently, the shifter. Her new reality, marked by her first hesitant transformation and the raw power that came with it, had reshaped her in ways she was still coming to terms with. She had fought tooth and claw—both figuratively and literally—to emerge stronger than ever.

“Siobhan’s still out there,” she murmured, her gaze flickering to the distant horizon. “Gone without a trace. Padraig says her assets have been liquidated, and her trail has gone cold. Why would she go? Do you think she’ll come back?”

Callum’s lips brushed her temple, a gesture as protective as it was tender. “It’s unusual for a she-cat to be out on her own. She obviously wanted to keep her secrets. She could have kept them from the human world but keeping it from those in the shifter community would have been impossible. But don’t worry, we’ll keep looking for her. Con’s trying to figure out who she is and which clan she came from. If she needs us, we’ll be there for her. But for now, we need to focus on other things.”

Her concern rested firmly in the present, where her father and Con were sealing an agreement that would merge the Fitzwilliam Foundation and the O’Neill Syndicate’s influence into something entirely unique. The foundation would continue to operate cleanly, its charitable work untouched by the darker dealings that had once shadowed her father’s past. But it would also be protected—by Callum, by her, by the family they had forged in blood and fire.

She shifted slightly, the sunlight catching on the diamond ring now gracing her finger. It sparkled like a beacon, a symbol of the bond she and Callum had forged through their dangerous obsession with one another. It wasn’t just love—it was something deeper, something unbreakable.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer as he followed her gaze to her father. “He looks content.”

“He is,” Isolde said softly. “I think he just wanted peace and wasn’t sure how to get it.”

“He should have trusted Con.” Callum’s lips quirked. “And you?”

She turned in his arms, her hands sliding up to rest against his chest. The intensity in his eyes burned into hers, dark and consuming, but there was something else there now—a softness, a vulnerability he reserved only for her.

“I never thought I’d find peace in someone like you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But here we are.”

He leaned down, his forehead brushing hers. “You’re mine, Isolde Fitzwilliam,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. “And I’ll burn the world down to keep you safe.”

She smiled, her fingers curling into his shirt. “Let’s not burn it just yet. We have a wedding to plan.”

The sun cast the garden in hues of amber and rose, Isolde leaned into Callum’s embrace, her heart steady and sure. Whatever lay ahead—danger, intrigue, power, love—they would face it together.

And together, they would shape their world into something worthy of the obsession that had brought them here.

The sun dipped low over Galway Bay, casting the abbey in hues of amber and crimson as the evening breeze swept across the hills. The ancient stone ruins stood sentinel on the cliffside, a place steeped in history and whispers of old magic. Isolde stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind teasing the loose strands of her dark chestnut hair as she stared out over the expanse of water and jagged rocks below.

Callum moved behind her. She could feel his presence even before she felt his hands settle on her hips. His touch was firm, possessive, and it sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool air.

“You’re restless,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying just enough of his Irish lilt to make her stomach twist in that way it always did.

Isolde glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips quirking in a faint smile. “So are you.”

His dark eyes met hers, their intensity a steady flame that never seemed to waver. “Maybe I am. But tonight isn’t about me.”

Her pulse quickened at the significance of his words, the promise beneath them. There had been so much danger, so much bloodshed over the past month. And yet here they were, standing together above the world as if nothing could touch them.

“You brought me here for a reason,” she said, her voice softer now, the wind stealing the sharp edge from her tone. “What is it?”

Callum’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, and he stepped closer, the heat of him seeping into her even as the chill of the cliffside bit at her skin. “I thought you’d enjoy the view.”

She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Try again.”

His hands tightened on her hips briefly, a subtle reminder of the control he wielded so effortlessly. “You’ve been caged for weeks, Isolde. It’s time to run.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the implication in his words. The shift was still new to her, a wild and exhilarating part of herself she was learning to embrace. But Callum? He wore his nature like a second skin—lethal, confident, unrelenting.

“Here?” she asked, her gaze sweeping the hills and cliffs, the beaches far below.

“Here,” he confirmed, his voice like a dark promise. “No one to watch. No one to judge. Just us.”

Her chest tightened as she searched his face, looking for something—assurance, encouragement, maybe even a hint of doubt. But Callum was unreadable, his expression calm but charged with the same energy that thrummed in her veins.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” she said, her tone playful despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.

Callum’s smirk widened, his hands sliding away as he stepped back, his movements deliberate and predatory. “Don’t fall behind, mo chroí .”

The transformation came easier now, the pull of her panther form as natural as breathing. Isolde felt the ripple of energy race through her as the mist swirled around her, her body shifting as her senses sharpened, her vision bleeding into vivid hues of gold and green.

When she looked up, Callum was already in his panther form, his sleek black fur glinting in the fading light. He stood on the edge of the cliff, his emerald eyes locked on her, waiting.

The wildness of the shift surged in her chest as she stepped forward, her own panther form fully realized. She gave a low growl, testing the stability of her paws against the rocky ground before springing forward.

Callum took off like a shadow, his powerful muscles propelling him across the uneven terrain with effortless grace. Isolde followed, the wind whipping past her as they raced over the hills, her heartbeat matching the pounding of her paws against the earth.

The cliffs gave way to rolling fields as she chased him, her own movements growing more confident with each stride. Callum slowed just enough for her to catch up, his gaze flicking toward her with an expression that was almost teasing.

You’re holding back , she thought, the words forming instinctively in her mind.

Callum growled low, the sound vibrating through her. Maybe. Show me what you’ve got, kitten.

The challenge ignited something primal in her, and she surged forward, her body coiling and springing as she shot past him. The exhilaration of the run swept through her like wildfire, the freedom of the moment a balm to the chaos that had so recently consumed her life.

They reached the cliffs above the beach just as the moon began to rise, its silver light painting the waves in shimmering streaks. Isolde skidded to a halt, her sides heaving as she took in the view.

She simply stared, her panther eyes taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark hair ruffled by the wind, and the raw power that radiated from him. When she shifted back, the air around her seemed to hum with the energy of their transformation.

“You didn’t tell me it would feel like this,” she said, her voice breathless as she turned to face him fully.

The mist rose up to envelop Callum and when he emerged, his lips curved in a faint smile, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made her acutely aware of her bare skin. “Some things can’t be explained, Isolde. They have to be felt.”

She stepped closer, the salty breeze tugging at her hair as she tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “And this? What is this we’re feeling?”

His hand came up, his fingers brushing against her cheek with surprising gentleness. “Obsession. Need. You’ve always been mine, even when neither of us knew it.”

Her breath hitched as his other hand settled on her hip, pulling her flush against him. The heat between them was undeniable, the pull magnetic as his mouth descended on hers in a kiss that was as consuming as the wild run they’d just shared.

The kiss deepened, his dominance and her defiance colliding in a way that left them both breathless. When they finally pulled apart, Callum’s forehead rested against hers, his voice a rough whisper.

“Run with me again, mo chroí . Always.”

Isolde smiled, her fingers curling into his hair as she whispered back, “Always.”

Ready for Rory’s story in His Possession? Click here for His Possession.

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