Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

Calm in the Storm: Resolving Conflict Your Way

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

I held steady, deep in thought, until the sun descended, and the full moon took its place. The chill didn't bother me. How could it? I was wrapped up in the pain I'd seen in Callen's features. Pain I'd put there.

He yearned to give his wife his mark, whatever it was. Part of me yearned to accept it. Heck, maybe even all of me. Yes, I admitted it. He was everything I'd ever secretly dreamed of for the man in which I entrusted my heart. The type of companion I'd only read about in fiction. Strong but kind. Caring. Protective. Thoughtful. He adored his daughter. Sometimes he looked at me as if I were the only woman alive. No other partner existed for him. He bought me books I loved and rocked a kilt.

I would give anything to keep him. There, I admitted that, too. Except, I wouldn't betray him. Not in more ways than I'd already done. And that's exactly what taking his mark would be—a betrayal.

My teeth began to chatter, letting me know my emotions might not care about the chill, but my body did. I made my way inside the castle and halted in the foyer. No guards stood nearby. No employees either. Callen waited for me in our bedroom, hoping I appeared.

I rubbed a burning spot in the center of my chest. Should I grab some coins and gemstones from the ballroom and run, even without the potion and ID or a way past the wall undetected? Maybe this was some kind of test.

Had to be a test. No way Callen forgot my security detail with Tavish possibly on the loose. If I ran, I would shatter Callen's trust. Which might have begun to form? But. If I didn't run while I had the chance, was I a fool? Isobel had threatened my mother's happiness.

I took a step toward freedom. Stopped. Stepped. Stopped. Could I really hurt the gentleman king as Isobel had? Especially while I was safe, fed, sheltered, and clothed…but in constant danger, thanks to unknown berserker traditions. Well, maybe not constant danger. Callen protected me.

But what about my mom? Tick tock.

What if I bumped into berserkers on my journey home? Talk about trouble. Unless I had the mark.

Should I set out for the unknown without it? And, really, it wasn't like the mark would be on me, but his wife. Whom he didn't even like. Me, however, he enjoyed. Wouldn't the true betrayal be forcing him to mark the body with the real Isobel abiding in it? And did she truly deserve to experience it with the husband she had betrayed over and over ?

After everything Callen and I had been through, we deserved to have our moment.

Excitement mixed with nervousness. Yes. I was gonna do it. I would take the mark. Decision made. No backing out. I would even take care of business with Isobel first so nothing distracted me from the act. In fact, I'd send her a photo of gold coins. That should buy me more time.

Feeling lighter, I headed for the ballroom. "No!" I exclaimed, coming to a halt just past the doors. My gifts. They were gone. Nothing remained but the faint trace of sage in the air.

Disappointment and frustration converged. But okay. All right. Callen must have ordered someone to move everything out of the way. In the morning, I'd ask around. For now, I sent Isobel a text:

You'll get your money. I'm making arrangements.

I hoped she responded as I ascended the stairs. Alas.

My sweet Thora trotted past me with her nose in the air, acting as if I wasn't standing right there. "What'd I do this time?" I asked.

She disappeared inside a sitting room, and I sighed. Another task for later. Soothing my dog.

Knees knocking, I made my way to the primary bedroom. Would Callen sweep me into his arms the moment I entered? Did I want him to?

I think…I did.

Breathless now, I opened the door. The block closed with a soft snick. There was Callen, in profile, sitting in the leather recliner near the unlit hearth. A glass of iced whiskey in hand, he stared at nothing.

"Did you love him?" The harshly stated question filled the room, and there was no escaping it. He didn't glance my way.

I didn't have to ask who he meant. Him. Roderick. I shrank into myself. Had Isobel loved him? I still didn't know. "Would you feel better or worse if I said yes?"

Callen gave a humorless laugh and drained the remaining contents in his glass, the ice clinking. "Probably both."

I wrung my fingers together. What had caused this sudden sullenness? My seeming rejection of the mark? "Did you love Sorcha?"

"I loved what she represented." He swirled the ice. "I've told myself you must have loved Roderick, even though you didna seem to mourn him. That you hid your sadness to protect yourself. That you aren't a cold, heartless shrew, but a young woman terrified of the unknown. How else can I let myself forge a life with a disloyal mate who cost me the only brother I had left, then saddled me with years of misery and challenges? Because, if I canna control my firebrand, how can I lead warriors to victory?"

My shoulders snapped straight. "I don't want to be controlled. And you don't want to control me." He craved his wife's affections with the whole of his being. I'd suspected it when he'd placed the tiara on my head, but now my certainty solidified, unbreakable. He wanted her to want him of her own volition, because he longed for a future together.

Whether he'd realized it or not, he'd even planted seeds for that future. He could've handled me differently. Could've locked me up. Beaten me. Threatened me. Humiliated me. Insulted me. Broken me. Publicly rejected me. Then he would've had the illusion of control. From the very beginning, he'd shown me the mercy he denied his enemies, giving me space to find my way.

"It doesn't matter, I suppose," he intoned, breaking the silence, "since I won't be letting you go."

An invisible hammer beat against my defenses. Cracks formed and tenderness leaked out. It felt as if he'd spoken the words to me, Elizabeth. I wondered…

Would he choose me when I switched back? Or would his affection shrivel beyond repair, taking his trust with it as soon as he discovered his wife's willingness to steal the identity of an American schoolteacher simply to escape him?

Heart thudding, I stalked around his chair and knelt between his legs, peering up at him. "You shouldn't want to keep someone who doesn't want to be kept," I rasped, trying to make him understand the crux of the problem without revealing my secret.

He flinched. "Ah, but the shame of doing so is my punishment, isn't it?"

I canted my head, deepening my study of him. "Why do you think you deserve punishment?" For rendering the killing blow to Roderick?

"When you've lived as long as I have, warred as much as I have, the reasons stack up." A note of bitterness accompanied the words.

"People learn and change. Who I was isn't who I am, and who I'll become isn't who I am now. The same is true of you." What I wouldn't give to talk to him openly and honestly, nothing held back. "Why should New Callen keep feeding Old Callen's misery, keeping it alive?"

He set his glass on the floor, the corners of his lips curving down. "Who are you?"

Had I revealed too much? "What do you mean? "

"Does this charming American persona reveal the real you or hide her, hmm?" He reached out to trace a fingertip along my jawline.

Shivers rained over me, my next words slipping out unbidden. "What if by some unseen twist, I'm not your fated one? Something I'm not sure you even need." Gripping his thighs, I reminded him, "You keep your berserkerage under lock and key without me." I tightened my grip. "Would you still desire me if my appearance drastically altered?"

"I didn't pick you for your beauty." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "But you are my firebrand. I only wish I was yours."

Easing back on my haunches, I rasped, "How do you know I am? And don't tell me you just knew. Not this time."

He drew in a deep lungful of air. "You remember the meaning of uisge ciùin ?"

"Many things. Namely, calm waters."

He nodded. "That is accurate, but the significance runs deeper. Every minute of every day, a sentinel can be swept into an inferno of fiery fury or let the waters snuff out the flames. The choice is always ours."

"That's lovely. But what does it have to do with mates?"

"When a sentinel meets a firebrand, the constant burn of fury cools. For the first time in our lives, we feel as if we bathe in tranquility. The sensation didn't last for me, as it does for most, but I felt it when we first met, and I wanted so badly to feel it again."

"Did you?"

"Once or twice. But it hit me like a tidal wave at our reception." Raw longing coated his shocking statement. "I crave more."

I absorbed his confession, reeling, certain of the exact moment he spoke of. When I'd been eating scones, and he'd watched with that all too brief ravaged expression.

Was this body responsible or was it possible Isobel wasn't his fated?

I licked my lips, suddenly breathless, and attempted to steer us to steadier ground. "What if I lose my temper with you ?"

His eyes lit up, and he grinned. "I think I can handle it."

"Oh, really?" I lifted a brow. "You're making a lot of assumptions about my wrath."

He barked out a laugh, and I soaked up the lightening of his mood.

There was no stopping my next words. "I came here to accept your mark. Did you change your mind about giving it?"

He went still. Dropped his chin and pinned me with a smoldering stare I couldn't break. Such intensity! The most he'd ever exuded. "Stand up," he rasped.

Nerve endings singing, I obeyed and backed up to give him space. Slow and measured, he unfolded to his feet and prowled forward, walking me backward until I pressed against a moonlit wall.

I panted my breaths as he caged me in with his arms. His incredible scent enveloped me, fogging my head. Heat blazed over my skin.

"You are a prize I've yearned to collect all the centuries of my life, and you've fought me every day of our acquaintance. Until now." He held my stare. "Why? What changed?"

Thud, thud, thud . "I'm not a prize. I'm a person with thoughts and feelings."

He didn't seem to hear me as he pressed closer, burning me inside and out .

"Why?" he insisted.

"Because."

His lids slitted. "Is this how you made Roderick feel?" Golden moonlight warred with shadows, couching his chiseled features. "As if he would die if you didn't belong to him? He knew he risked everything when he challenged me, yet still he did it. For you."

"Stop bringing him up," I demanded, gripping fistfuls of his shirt. "This is between you and me."

"Is it?"

"Yes!" I shook him without actually shaking him. "If you'll let it."

"Verra well." Leaning down, Callen brushed the tip of his nose against mine. "Are you listening?"

"Mostly," I croaked. He contoured his posture to mine and gripped my hips. Soon I felt him in every pore, every cell.

"With this mark, we will start fresh. I will be your husband, and you will be my wife. You will give yourself to me, and me alone, Elle." He stated the words with firm conviction. "I will give myself only to you. I will give you the world."

My ribs tightened around my lungs. A myriad of responses jumbled up in my throat, caught in a web of an emotion I couldn't name.

"Knowing this, do you still wish to take my mark?" He kissed my nape, the barest press of his lips, sending a spear of heat to my core.

I stood there, trying to breathe, suspended in time. The intensity of his ministrations and words created a hazy shield around me. Only this moment existed.

Trapped in a dreamy trance, I opened my fists and smoothed his shirt, running my hands over his pecs. "What is a mark, exactly? Help me understand."

"A mark is something a warrior gives only to his firebrand." He swept my hair over one shoulder, then pressed ever closer. Goose bumps spread across my limbs. When he brushed his lips over my nape a second time, those goose bumps caught fire, and my knees weakened. "Once done, it can never be undone."

I panted harder. "How do you give this mark?"

"I'll cut each of our hands to mingle our blood, then recite an ancient vow. You'll feel the sting of the blade, but I'll make sure you don't care. My life-force will…brand you cells, for lack of a better word."

Anticipation warred with trepidation. How exactly would he make sure I didn't care?

"Sentinels around the world will know you belong to me," he continued, "and any attempt to harm you is a declaration of war."

That didn't sound too bad. But the intimacy of it all. Would mingling our blood affect me physically only? Or would I feel him in my mind, will, and emotions? Would I take a piece of him with me when I returned to my body?

"This makes you hesitate," he said, plumping my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Why?"

Truth spilled out. "One day, you'll remember you hate me." I slid my hands up to toy with the ends of his hair. "You'll regret doing this."

"Lass, I've dreamed of you my entire life. I'll regret nothing." He deliberately dipped his head, giving me time to protest. I didn't. With a tenderness matched by none, he lightly kissed my lips before tracing his tongue between the seam. "Say yes, and I'll make you glad you did. "

The softness. The heat. My brain short-circuited. My limbs trembled, both an acceptance and a rejection racing to escape. In a photo finish, I rasped, "Yes."

A slow smile spread, but it wasn't born of humor. No, oh, no. He resembled the wolf he carried inside himself. Crafty and maybe a wee bit playful.

Anticipation won. "Do it," I commanded, the words frayed at the edges.

Moving just as slowly, he lowered his head, as if he meant to kiss me again. But he didn't. With our gazes locked and his lips hovering a mere inch away, he unsheathed a dagger tucked in a sheathe at his waist.

I fought for air as he cut his palm, then cut mine. Yes, I felt the sting, but exactly as promised, I didn't care. Because, as he joined our hands, mingling the wells of crimson, he finally lowered his head the rest of the way and pressed his lips to mine.

This time, I opened for him, and he thrust his tongue against mine. A bolt of energy slammed into me, and I gasped. Tingles erupted. Heat followed, such heat. He kissed me as if he'd never tasted anyone so sweet. As if his life began and ended with mine.

I melted into him. "Don't stop," I commanded when he lifted his head. "It's so…you're so…" The heat increased, bringing a flood of dizzying ecstasy. "So good."

"Thig crìoch air an t-saoghal, ach mairidh gaol is síocháin." He breathed the words into my ear as the intoxication overcame me.

"What does that mean?" Was I slurring my words?

Lifting his head, he smiled the sweetest smile down at me. "The world will end, but our love and peace will endure. "

"How lovely," I said, and yes, I slurred. Still the heat increased, liquifying me. Then darkness swallowed me whole, and I floated away in the abyss.