Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ada

T hey are arguing.

Barely a day has passed since Callum broke out of his chains, and already I sense the tone of things to come.

We are back in the captain's quarters with its newly patched-up door after Callum smashed it—along with most of the frame—yesterday.

Callum growls, low and aggressive, as he rolls my body under his in the bedding nook.

He is not looking at me. He is looking at Gray's hand, which had dared to touch my arm.

Gray, who stands beside the bed, growls back.

And, Goddess help me, my traitorous body responds with instant arousal, and a needy whimper escapes my lips. Two hungry male faces swing my way.

I cup Callum's cheek, hoping to keep his attention, even as I reach for Gray.

It works, in part. Callum is now bestowing me a smoldering look that makes my breath catch and slick gather between my thighs.

"The lass is sore," Gray states, and, instantly, the tension is back.

"I am not going to rut her," Callum replies, although his eyes have shifted focus to my breast, and his head lowers like he is caught by an invisible pull. "Also, it was not me who made her fucking sore!"

He captures my stiff nipple between his lips and sucks vigorously.

Gray growls in warning.

I think I might spontaneously climax from nothing but stimulation to my breast.

Callum lifts his lips with a pop and sighs heavily before fixing a pointed glare at where Gray still touches me. He is closer than Callum would like… In the same room is too close for Callum; he said as much yesterday when he brought me back here and told Gray to fuck off.

Gray does not do well following instructions, so he ignored Callum and stalked right in after us.

They glare at one another.

"Damn whelp," Gray mutters and removes his hand.

I miss it instantly.

I'm also very needy, and although I am sore, I don't appreciate Gray's interference.

Callum rocks back onto his heels. My eyes slide straight down his body and land on the arresting sight of his hard cock. It seems to pulse before my eyes, and a small gush of pre-cum leaks from the tip to trickle down.

I swallow. It makes me hungry just looking at it.

"Don't look at me like that, lass," he says, swiping a hand down his face. "Or it will never go fucking down."

On the other side of the room, Gray chuckles. "Lad, it is never going to go down. Not while you've got a fertile omega in scenting distance."

"Oh, and you're an expert, then?" Callum says, fixing a glare on Gray.

I put my hand on his thigh. He jolts, and his cock flexes, leaking another pulse of cum.

"You're making it worse, Ada," Gray says. "And, yes, I know more about it than you do. There are several omegas in our pack. And while they are shifters, and there are some subtle differences, they still bear many of the same traits. Ada is new to this. You've been going at her non-stop ever since?—"

"Ever since I bested you," Callum says, with a definite note of smugness.

"I do not believe we battled," Gray says nonchalantly.

"Please stop," I say, pushing off the bed and wincing because I realize that my pussy is very sore now that I try to move.

Callum and Gray are upon me instantly, taking positions on either side of me where I stand.

"Let me tend you," Gray says.

"I will fucking tend her," Callum barks right back.

"Gods, I will tend to myself."

They both growl at me.

"You are a pair of damn whelps," I say before I can think better about how that might be inflammatory. "Your arguments are giving me a headache… and I would very much like some food. This rutting business is hungry work."

Gray smirks like my hunger is a source of pride.

Callum rolls his eyes.

"You may tend her," Gray says magnanimously. "As long as you do not rut her, and further, do not arouse her more than you absolutely must in order to apply the cream,"

Callum swallows.

A knock on the door redirects everyone's attention.

"Master Gray," someone calls from beyond the door. "Land has been sighted."

"Land?" I ask.

"We'll be coming to anchor soon," Gray says to me before he levels Callum with a glare. "Care for our mate. I'll have clothes sent through."

He strides over to the makeshift door, yanking a gap in the wooden planks enough to squeeze through before carefully putting them back.

"I'm sorry," Callum says the moment we are alone. "I don't know what comes over me when he's around."

"It is okay," I say, stepping into his arms.

He purrs.

"It's a lot of change to grapple with. Only, he is part of this, too, Callum… I don't really understand the way fated mates work. I've only ever heard the occasional whisper about it. It is not a matter for the likes of me when I was a poor beta lass living in a hovel and working in the fish market."

"It was not for me either," he says, "when I was an apprentice blacksmith and likewise a beta. Now, I don't know what I am… nor do I understand my power, or this monster inside me."

"It is a lot for both of us. But Gray is wise in this, whereas we are not. Plus, he is older and knows things." Callum raises an eyebrow but I continue. "And although he did not go about it in the best of ways, I believe he could not help himself, either."

Callum makes a scoffing noise. Not that I can blame him for feeling wronged.

"The past is done, and we cannot change it, Callum. We are bound now."

"I will try," he says. "The bastard just riles me with his constant jibes and air of superiority. This situation would be very different if my beast weren't so big."

I lift my head from his chest and grin up at him. "Your beast is magnificent, Callum."

"Maybe it is because I have royal blood."

My brows pull together. "I didn't know there were such things as royal shifters."

"Neither did I," Callum says. "But he is a mean bastard, and I can't imagine he would tell me something nice unless he absolutely needed to."

"Lizbeth knew," I say slowly.

"Lizbeth?"

"The lass he was searching for… he was promised to her although nothing had been consummated, and now she is with Drake, along with Gray's younger brother. She snuck in while you and Gray were, um, busy yesterday… through the window after shimmying down a rope. But she knew you were special. She called it life-changing. Now I see what she means."

I step away reluctantly, heading for the table where someone has placed a pitcher, basin, soap, and cloth.

Callum strides past me and takes the cloth with a determined glint in his eye.

"Gray told me to do this," he says.

Now, he wants to follow Gray's instructions.

"She seems really nice… a little crazy, dangling from ropes over the side of a moving ship…" I swallow, distracted from this important conversation, as my eyes land on Callum's cock. It is bobbing, giving me the ‘come hither' move that makes me want to sink to my knees.

"I'll put some pants on," he says, turning and stopping as he glances around the room. "I do not have any fucking pants."

A giggle escapes me. "They would not fit you anymore."

He glances down at himself, flexing his arm and staring in confusion at his thick biceps. He was a big man before, but now his body seems to have grown to better contain his shifted beast.

"I don't know what this royal business means," he continues. "My parents left their homelands when I was a babe, perhaps even before. I didn't realize my mother was even a shifter. My father promised me a conversation, but something always got in the way, and now it is too late. But no one leaves their homelands on a whim. Now, I wonder if those reasons were bad. Perhaps the royals were persecuted or even guilty of a terrible crime."

"We will have to ask Gray about it," I say.

"You trust him, then?" Callum asks.

"I do, and deep down, so do you."

He grunts. "Aye, maybe I do… I'm a greedy bastard and don't want to share you. For sure, Gray feels the same. But we're caught up in this now, and none of us have a choice." He holds my gaze. "But I can't walk away from you, Ada. Not even if you wanted me to. That first time I took you on the filthy floor after the fight, I felt it even back then. I knew there was no going back, that I would follow you anywhere, and would die to protect you. But it has an ugly side—I will never let you go. There is something primal inside me that's part of me, and yet also distinct. He is my darkness. Both parts of me have claimed you, Ada, for life. No decent man says things like that. Decent men speak of love and keep a woman at their side by their ways and their goodness. I like to think I am still that man, still my father's son. But I also won't let you go, even if you were to fucking beg me."

"Good," I say decisively. "I do not want a man who would let me go. I want a man who wants me with everything, as much as I want him. And I want you, Callum."

He growls low. "I want to fuck you."

"Well, I want you to, so we are equal in this, too."

He covers the gap between us in a single stride and snags my waist, pulling me close. "Gray will fucking kill me if I do." He smirks, one full of dark promise. "He can try."

"Tell him I begged you to. I don't care."

Lifting me up, he drops my ass on the table and leans over me, his body caging mine, cock pointing straight toward the place where I need it. With a groan of defeat, he takes himself in hand and slides it through my wetness until it catches the entrance of my pussy.

"I will go slowly," he says gruffly. "Tell me if it's too much, and I will stop."

I nod eagerly, already knowing I never will.

He sinks into me, and I bite my lip to hold the whimper in. It does hurt a little, but it's a good kind of sore, the kind I want more of.

"Is this okay?" he asks, eyes searching mine, reminding me that he is still my Callum, a sweet apprentice blacksmith who is gentle even in this.

"Don't stop," I beg. "I hate it when you're not inside me; I cannot bear it. It is the only way I am whole."

He ruts me slow and gentle, rocking his hips and working deeper a little at a time.

The room is cool, yet I see the strain on his features, the way sweat breaks upon his brow.

It doesn't hurt anymore. He feels a compelling kind of good. Tingly. Clenchy. Blissful.

I moan as he goes deeper and stills. And I can feel him inside me, filling me, pulsing, stretching sore muscles until I am quivering around him.

He reaches between us; his thumb finds the slippery, swollen bud of my clit and swipes from side to side.

My breath escapes me in a glorious rush as a climax sweeps through me. Along the length of my channel, I flutter in blissful waves, squeezing lovingly over his hard, male flesh.

He groans, his head tilts back, and I feel a flood fill me up.

Only now do I look down and realize that he has kept his knot outside. "You have cheated," I say, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist like I might pull him deeper.

His chuckle is low as he rocks against me. "You are too sore to be knotted, even though you tried to hide it. I did not miss your little grimaces here and there."

I pout. "I am never too sore to be knotted."

He huffs out a breath. And slowly withdraws his cock. I want to hold him inside and whimper at the loss. His gaze settles on my pussy before he bends my knees and pushes me back a little until I rest on the edge of the table. He traces through my slick folds as I pant for breath.