Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

Planning Ahead: Locate The Nearest Emergency Exit Before Any Negotiation

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

T avish was long gone by the time Callen strode into my bedroom. The berserker king hadn't shed an ounce of his icy rage.

I lay on the bed, reeling but trying to hide it as I pet Thora, who I had indeed found locked in the closet, alive, well, and royally ticked off.

"Come," Callen snapped near the foot of the frame. He wore his suit jacket, his slash tattoos hidden. What did those marks represent? "You're accompanying me today."

"No, thanks. I'm staying here." I had much to ponder and research. Were wolf-shifters awful to everyone, or just berserkers? Was Tavish my enemy too, or an ally? Obviously, his moral compass had cracks. I mean, come on. He'd helped Isobel switch souls with an innocent woman. But. Even as creepy as he was, he believed he'd done me a favor, gifting me with a rich, handsome husband and the possibility of immortality. Plus, if crunch time arrived, and I required a collaborator, Tavish could be bought.

The biggest downside with greedy, morally compromised individuals? They screwed you over the second someone offered them more.

Callen scowled, the ice in his eyes melting as internal fires clearly raged. "You could no' contain your curiosity about me at breakfast, yet you refuse to accompany me to the office to spend more time with me?"

I humphed. "I learned you're the kind of man who sends his spouse to her room as if she's a child. Consider my curiosity assuaged."

A muscle jumped in his jaw. "I sought to protect you, nothing more. Now, for the good of my people, I will keep you with me."

I don't calm you , I wanted to bellow. Except, I couldn't tell him without wrecking my plan. But dang it, he really needed to know what had happened, so I could reveal my suspicion that his security team had a weak link. A traitor. Otherwise, Tavish never would've made it into my room.

I'd bet big money this traitor had worked with Isobel, too. An offense I would be blamed for, if ever anyone found out. Was there a way to inform Callen of the breach without endangering my life?

On the other hand, as long as he remained in the dark, I could maybe possibly use this someone to further my cause.

Although, staying silent endangered Callen's life. An undeniable fact. But he wasn't a person I could trust with the truth. By his own admission, he executed innocent soul-switchers. And if anyone could protect himself, it was Callen.

Tavish might border on vile, but he didn't despise me. No doubt I'd forever be at odds with Callen. He preferred his fated mate imprisoned at home, always at his beck and call; I sought to return to my real life.

"You will come with me," he commanded, breaking the silence I'd allowed too stretch.

Further protesting his "invitation" would do me no good. Why not get something out of it? "Fine," I said. "But you owe me a boon of my choice, to be named later." I kissed Thora's sweet face and rose from the mattress. Checked my pocket. Phone in place. All I needed really. "Well? Are we going or not?"

Callen remained rooted, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Nose in the air, I swept past him. He caught up with me, projecting annoyance but no longer fuming. In the hall, I expected to run into Buzz. The bodyguard was long gone.

"Did the messenger threaten me?" I asked as I walked side by side with Callen. Was that the real reason he insisted I go with him today?

"Tavish loathes my existence and seeks to hurt me through you. His messenger came with a list of various ways a mortal can be harmed."

Great! Another threat to my wellbeing. But why hadn't Tavish struck while he'd had the opportunity? "Why does the wolf king hate you so much?"

Both of Callen's brows winged up. "Do you truly need a history lesson?"

Yes! But I didn't push. "If Tavish is so dangerous, why not send me to another country, out of his reach?" Might as well go there while I had the chance .

"That will never happen," Callen grated.

"Why not?" We descended the staircase. "I get that you expect me to soothe you or whatever, but you got by just fine for years without me. I'm sure you'd enjoy a little time apart from the spouse you despise."

Stiffness infiltrated his posture. "Our bargain guarantees I don't have to get by." Resentment dripped from his tone. "You are mine. I keep what's mine."

Flutters erupted deep in my belly. How was I supposed to respond to that? I wasn't his, and he definitely wasn't mine. "What else did the messenger say?"

"Say? Nothing. I donna converse with wolves and their minions. I kill them. I only saw the list when I checked his body."

Shock and horror converged, and I gaped at him. Callen had offered the statements so casually, as if we were discussing the weather. Other thoughts attempted to surge, but I misjudged the last step and tripped, stumbling. He swooped in, winding an arm around my waist and catching me. Our gazes met. My heart rate spiked. Being wrapped against a strong, capable man, safeguarded rather than steeped in peril, was nice. Beyond nice. It was downright amazing.

Eyes wide, I softly asked, "While we're together, can you at least try to be my friend?" Since we were going to be together, I might as well advance my charm him plan.

"We are not friends." His ferocity sent a blast of ice through my limbs.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "You're right. We're not. But we could be." Straightening, I attempted to pull from his clasp but he held firm. "We should go."

He launched into a faster stride, maintaining contact as we exited the house. His powerful body shielded me from any lurking danger, and some of my upset faded. He might not want to be friends, but this protective gesture said more than his words.

Red alert, red alert! Uh-oh. Fluttery heart, check. Short-circuiting brain and thickening tongue, check, check. Attraction was attempting to bloom again, wasn't it?

He'd just admitted to killing a man. Or wolf. Whatever! He was supposed to soften toward me, not the other way around. I had no business admiring him.

I focused on the cool, heather-scented breeze. The bright glow of the sun. The flock of birds passing overhead. Anything but the man at my side.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bruce." The driver rushed to open a car door for me.

"Good morning," I returned, climbing into the backseat and buckling.

" Uisge ciùin , Mr. Bruce."

" Uisge ciùin , Angus."

I stiffened as Callen settled in beside me. Ugh. Close quarters with his delectable scent; exactly what I hadn't needed.

Silence reigned as we rolled past the stone wall surrounding the property, now peppered with double the number of armed guards. Five minutes ticked by…then thirty…an hour. I spent the time ignoring seven calls from Isobel. When she decided to talk, she didn't let up. Well, let her stew!

I was about to face Callen's however-many-employees. What should I know? What if I said the wrong thing? Acted the wrong way? What would they think of my "fake" American accent?

When I could stand the suspense no longer, I blurted out, "Remind me if I've ever been to your office before."

"You have not." He worked his jaw. What he didn't do? Fidget with his ring. "Why don't I explain how this will go." A statement, not a question. "You will touch nothing, showcase your best behavior at all times, and remain at my side unless otherwise commanded."

Worry shed from me. No history with the employees and no forced interactions with others? Phew. As for his expectations, irritation spiked. "And if I touch something or make a mistake? What will you do?"

"There's no reason to discuss if." He adjusted a cuff link. "You'll do what you're told."

Oh, that burned. Did I really want to press the issue with a berserker, though?

Well. Yeah. As a teacher, I utilized three failproof rules. Set boundaries from the start, beginning as you hoped to end. Plainly state consequences for bad behavior, and consistently follow through.

"Darling," I said, using my sweetest tone. "With me there's always a need for if. When I touch something I shouldn't and when I make a mistake, what will you do?"

Tone low and casual, his accent thick, hinting at the seething emotions within, he said, "Donna spar with me, wife."

"Will you erupt and lash out?" I arched a brow, mimicking him. "Am I to become a victim of your berserkerage?" Berserkerage was a word, right? If not, it should be.

Callen shifted to peer out a window. "You are'na new to life with a man like me. You spent eighteen years under your father's care and months sneaking around with Roderick, whose temper surpassed mine. You know verra well what happens when we are provoked."

No. No, I didn't. I knew only what I'd read. Maddened. Unstoppable. Frenzied. I ignored the comment about his brother. There was no way to defend Isobel's actions. Nor did I wish to try.

"Every man is different, even those who are the same," I said. "Maybe you should explain things like I'm brand new to this. As if I'm actually an innocent bystander." I leaned over and fiddled with his silver tie, proving my fake nonchalance was one hundred percent authentic. "You did promise to follow my lead, did you not? And this way, you can be assured there are no misunderstandings between us."

A crackling pause. "All right," he said with a slow nod. "I'll explain it so a newcomer can understand."

He reached over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and caught me by the waist, lifting me onto his lap. My breath lodged in my throat, and my gaze jerked up, colliding with his. Such intensity! Those baby blues glittered with something stronger than longing.

Why had he put me here? Why did I… like it?

"I am a grenade," he stated, "and my pin has been pulled. At any moment, I could explode." As he spoke, his attention snagged on my hair. He licked his lips. Then he shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "If that happens, there will be casualties. Your job, your only job, is to keep me calm and hold off my detonation. You do this by obeying my commands. Understand now?"

My hackles buzzed. "That sounds made up to gain my cooperation."

"It isn't, I promise you."His focus strayed to my hair again. Only for a moment. Okay, a moment more. Then another and another. What thoughts rolled through his head?

I shifted against him, edging closer to inhale more of his intoxicating scent. Would he act ?

A minute passed. Then another. We stayed exactly as we were, balanced on a precarious ledge of something I didn't wish to name.

Then, he moved. Reaching out, he sifted a lock of my hair between his fingers. Tingles spread over my scalp. An urge to cup his face and offer the comfort he sought struck me. A wild temptation I had no business entertaining, especially after what he'd just said. And yet…

Unable to resist, I glided my fingers across his jaw. His beard stubble tickled my skin, a caress that penetrated to the bone.

He hissed air between his teeth at the same time I did. I melted over him, but he released my hair and set me aside swifter than humanly possible. Whoa!

Confused by the abrupt rejection, after such a gentle exchange, I buckled up, muttering, "Thank you. This is where I prefer to be. Right?

After what had happened, I expected him to look away. But his attention remained fixed on me for a long while. A very long while. I wouldn't react. Not even a little. Except, I did. Ribbons of heat uncoiled in my veins, and I squirmed.

"Do I make you nervous, wife?"

Must Callen purr such a leading question? "Yes," I admitted without thought. I pursed my lips. Honestly, not even August had made me feel this jittery. "But only sometimes, so don't go getting a big head about it."

He blinked and rubbed his thumb into the center of his lower lip. "Hmm," he uttered, too sexy for words.

My heart lurched into a race. Hmm? What did ‘hmm' mean? It must be good, because yep, the ring twisting started next. Man, I loved recognizing this tell.

We said nothing else as the car came to a halt in front of a lovely stone building near a body of pristine blue water. So not where I'd expected an immortal king to work. I recognized the densely populated shopping area. I'd toured here. Had even passed the building's row of windows. Had Callen stood behind the glass, neither of us comprehending how we'd be connected one day?

The driver opened his door, and Callen climbed out. Once again, he offered me a hand. This time, I accepted without an intermission. Warmth sizzled in my cheeks upon contact. I almost pulled away. Almost.

Hand in hand, we crossed the threshold, and oh wow. Historic on the outside, modern on the inside. A sapphire-veined marble floor paired nicely with the chandelier dripping with thousands of blue crystals. Azure light reflected over a round table displaying a massive vase of fresh bluebells. The most incredible floral scent sweetened the air.

Toward the back of the entrance loomed a large mahogany reception counter where two women waited. An older quintessential grandmother type with curly salt and pepper hair, and a young, pink-haired stunner paler than Isobel. I thought I remembered seeing both at the after-wedding party.

Did they know Callen was a berserker? Were they, perhaps, fated mates of other berserkers? Or were they unsuspecting mortals?

Phones rang in the background as Callen and I approached. Both ladies popped to their feet with a smart device in one grip and a cup of coffee in the other. Pinkie eyed my casual clothing with a wee bit of derision. Favored her designer dress, did she? Meanwhile, the older woman revealed nothing.

We soared past the pair. As we did so, Callen claimed a coffee. Both women followed on our heels, their smart devices at the ready .

Pinkie thrust her coffee in my direction. For me? I accepted with a confused, "Thank you?" He'd called ahead? They'd known I was coming?

Callen tossed orders left and right. A list of the people he wanted contacted. Attachments he expected to find in his inbox. A "derg" he sought to be delivered by the end of the day.

Our onlookers took turns muttering, "Aye."

We passed roughly fifty other employees, each sitting at a desk or rushing from here to there. Anyone in our path scrambled off. A few blatantly looked me over. Others tried to be more covert. I nodded and smiled at all because what else could I do? Callen's fast clip kept me from sipping my drink.

Windowed walls framed a waiting room with multiple bookshelves, two couches, and a coffee table. A large fifty-something man with a heavily scarred face perched behind a reception desk. He noticed Callen, stood and nodded.

Callen ushered me past him, down a hallway, and through a self-automated glass door. We entered a private office with modern furnishings and a minimalist vibe. There were no portraits. No knickknacks. Nothing personal of any kind anywhere. Just electronics positioned across the desk.

I might have cringed a bit. "This is where you spend the bulk of your days?" It was nothing like the castle, which I preferred. Here, the few chairs provided the thinnest cushions. "No wonder you're always in a bad mood."

"I'm not always in a bad mood," he grumbled, holding out a chair in front of the clear desk and motioning me over.

"What is it you do, exactly?" The question slipped out before I could plug into my common sense and download Is This A Smart Thing To Say software. I eased into the chair, and yes, it was as uncomfortable as I'd suspected.

"I ensure my money is making money." He sat behind the desk and got busy on a call, seeming to forget my very existence.

I sipped my coffee and grimaced. Gross! No milk or sugar.

"Is something wrong with the coffee?" he asked. So he hadn't lost sight of me, after all. Interesting.

"I like it sweet and creamy."

"Since when?"

Argh! See! I needed to download that software ASAP. "Since today."

I placed the cup near a stack of papers and rose. No way I could perch here the rest of the day without something to do. "I'm gonna make myself at home."

Not awaiting his permission, I ambled over to the bookshelves. Only a handful of books lined the shelves, but oh, oh, oh! A history of berserkers. Finally! I snatched it up, only to blink with confusion. Did he seriously keep a book chronicling his cloak-and-dagger immortal origins out in the open? The daring required for such an act staggered me.

Or did some part of him want people to realize the truth?

"Expecting a quiz?" Callen asked, his warm breath fanning over my nape.

Gasping, I spun and came face to face with him. My heart drummed. He stood directly in front of me, his hands stuffed in his pockets. How had I not heard him move?

"Why? Is class in session, Professor Bruce?" A flush sizzled in my cheeks. Had I used a flirty tone? I'd used a flirty tone, hadn't I?

I began to look away, but he caught me by the chin. A gentle but implacable clutch. Our gazes locked, and I gulped. He searched my eyes. With the pad of his thumb, he traced the seam of my bottom lip as he'd done to his own.

My pulse jumped. What was happening here? Why would he… Why did I… Should we…

"You want to be friends, lass?" His soft tone washed over me, stroking my nerve endings.

I didn't mean to, but I stepped closer. "I?—"

"Da!" a sweet, excited voice proclaimed.

Surprise overtook Callen's features as he released me and whipped around. In the open doorway stood a grinning little girl with silky black hair, big blue eyes, and a frilly pink dress. She clutched a doll to her chest.

Startled, I froze. Callen's gaze darted to me, and he stiffened. As he refocused on the child, however, his demeanor transformed. From full of dread to total adoration. He smiled a genuine smile that softened his entire face and stole my breath.

"Hello, my angel." He strode to the side of the desk, away from me, and opened his arms. "I missed you terribly."

Was I about to meet the infamous Mirren?