Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

High Stakes Merger: When Things Get Heated

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

I dreamed of Isobel's wedding to Callen again, reliving her memory of the event in greater detail, as if she were me. The absolute somberness of the audience. The euphoric drunkenness of the bride. The barely banked fury of the groom when his eyes flashed, glowing with azure rings.

"Say your vows," he grated.

"What vows?" I wobbled and fell into him with a laugh. Rather than bounce back, I slithered all over him. "Be honest. You were designed in a lab, weren't you?"

Murmurs of shock rose from the guests. A murmur of shock rose from the current me , too, because that sounded exactly like something I'd say. What if her body hadn't retained an echo of the memory? What if I'd actually lived it?

Was it possible? Had I, Elizabeth, spoken vows to him? Had Isobel and I traded before the wedding?

But that couldn't be right. Could it?

I tossed and turned on the mattress, my inhalations coming faster. The morning I'd woken up in Isobel's bed, I'd had no memory of meeting Callen. He'd been a stranger to me. But what if the potion had erased him? Wasn't like I remembered anything once it had kicked in. What if I was the one who'd married Callen?

The dream continued, the priest shifting, casting the king a what do we do now glance.

Callen clasped my nape and lifted me to my tiptoes, forcing my gaze to meet his. With his head bent and his nose brushing mine, he growled, "You belong to me. Say it."

"You belong to me," I purred, and a grin spread.

No. No way I would've grinned so confidently. So carnally. But Isobel would. Disappointment coiled around me and squeezed. And suddenly I knew. I had absolutely, utterly fallen for this man. And he desired me, too. Had experienced moments of calm since my arrival. A tidal wave.

But I wanted him as Elizabeth, not Isobel. I needed to…I should…mmm. The most incredible heat saturated my entire being, fragmenting my thoughts. Blood fizzing like champagne, I stretched and blinked open my eyes. Wow, I felt good. Strong and capable of anything. Why did—the mark!

My eyelids popped open. I went still, my heart beating like a war drum. I yanked my hand into the light and frowned. No wound or scar. And yet, Callen had done it. He'd marked me. I hadn't imagined the cut or the bliss afterward. Or the rapture of his kiss.

From the comfort of the bed, I scrubbed a hand over my face and stared up at the ceiling of our bedroom, ignoring the rest of the world for just a bit longer. We belonged to each other now. We shared an "unbreakable" connection.

Almost.

The heat faded in an instant, leaving me frozen. He'd marked Isobel's body, bonding husband and wife for life. Maybe I was the one who'd spoken those vows at the wedding, maybe not, but either way, I wasn't sure it mattered. If I didn't take the mark with me, she kept it.

What had I done?

That I'd let Callen do it without telling him the whole truth…

He might not forgive me after the switch back. Heck, I might not forgive myself. Had I ruined his life while trying to save my own?

Where was the great king, anyway? I rolled to my side and scanned the bedroom. Morning sunlight filtered through the window to frame him.

He reclined in the same chair he'd occupied last night. Today he sat shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. So many muscles. Thora perched in his lap, as cozy as could be. Seeming to have shed ten layers of stress, he stroked her soft fur.

My awareness of him sharpened, and I couldn't tear my gaze away.

He noticed, his gaze meeting mine. The usual intensity lingered in the depths of his blue eyes, but today he exuded the very calm he'd sought.

"How do you feel?" he asked. Even his tone struck me as lighter.

"I'm a little confused." I eased upright, locks of hair tumbling over my arms. Wait. I wore a large white T-shirt. A berserker-sized T-shirt. My gaze flipped to Callen.

He flashed a megawatt smile, and my veins heated anew, my every cell aching to be near him. An unstoppable tide of vulnerability flared. Oh, dang. Where were my defenses?

"Did you change me?" I asked as causally as possible.

His smile widened, causing my brain to blip. "Not exactly," he said. "I dressed you. There's a difference. You kept muttering about how hot you were and tore off your clothes."

Heat suffused my cheeks as I remembered the incredible warmth I'd experienced as our blood mingled. I thought I recalled…singing. "I put on a show, didn't I?"

"You did." Amusement pulsed from him. He kissed the top of Thora's head, set her on the floor and stood. "Should I have left you naked, as I preferred?"

"No, no. The shirt was a good choice," I assured him, trying to look anywhere but his muscled perfection. Or the goodie trail leading to the waist of his pants. Or the bulge—no! bad! I was leering at him.

He smirked as if he heard my thoughts.

Um. I should take another moment to collect myself. "If you'll excuse me, there's something I must do right away. And it's not toilet related." No, I had not just said that. Mortified, I climbed from the bed and padded into the bathroom. His chuckle followed me.

I splashed cold water on my face and studied my reflection. Isobel stared back at me from the mirror, emerald eyes glittering with excitement, lips soft and red, hair wild. I was in real trouble here. I needed a plan. An objective. No more flirting, lots more escaping.

After brushing my teeth, I did end up using the toilet. I washed my hands. Thankfully, a semi-decent plan formed. I would march out there and tell Callen we were spending the day apart to think about things. Then I would find a way to reach out to Tavish. If he had survived the explosion, he had a potion and a price. He might even devise a plan to return me to America. The sooner I left Scotland, the faster my emotions could recover from total devastation.

Running away from Callen as you ran away from August?

No! Running to safety. There was a difference. Determined, I did it. I marched out the door and opened my mouth to begin my speech. Before I could utter a word, Callen stepped into me, catching me against him and cupping my jaw. He stared down at me.

"The past is done. You were right. Who we were isn't who we are now." His head dipped and captured my lips with his own, kissing me hard, and kissing me well. Holding nothing back, he all but devoured me.

My body reacted on instinct, conforming to his. I clutched his shoulders, able to do nothing but return passion for passion. For the moment, yes, he was my husband, and I was his wife. Marked. We were right together. Maybe I could enjoy this a little longer?

The world spun as he swung me and pressed me into a wall, just as he'd done last night. He moved one hand to my hair, angled my face, and took my mouth deeper. His other hand slid to my throat. He dragged his thumb up the center, before lightly hooking the pad against my chin while lifting his head.

Breath sawed in and out of his lips. He held my gaze with his own. The blank mask he so often wore was gone. His pupils spilled over his irises, savage desperation giving him a sexy edge.

Need clawed at me. "Callen," I rasped, unsure what I intended to say. How was I supposed to think properly after experiencing a world-destroying kiss? Intelligent thought had abandoned me.

He stroked my cheek, and I leaned into the touch. "Let's start over," he rasped back at me. "We'll do this marriage for real."

I combed my trembling fingers through his silken hair, thrilled but unsure. "What if there are things you don't yet know about me? Things you won't like?"

"Whatever it is willna change how I feel about you." An indulgent smile spread, and he pressed a kiss into my lips, this one soft and lingering. "I like the woman I've come to know. I hunger for a future with you."

Who could ask for more? If he could forgive Isobel for her actions with his brother, maybe he could forgive me for my prolonged deceit. Or even understand. Everything I'd done, I'd done to survive and right wrongs.

Could we forge a life together?

Longing choked me, a part of me refusing to give up hope. Shouldn't we try?

But the problems. I could have a life with him or my family, but not both. I could be Isobel or Elizabeth, but not both. Yet I was tempted. Beyond tempted. But I couldn't abandon my family. I just couldn't.

Callen wasn't done with the hard sell. "Things will be different from now on, lass. You'll have your credit card. No limit. A car will be at your disposal, ready to take you anywhere in Scotland at any time. Guards will accompany you because of the wolves, but you'll never know they're there unless needed."

Sweet goodness. He was practically gift-wrapping my escape.

But maybe, if I agreed to remain Isobel, he would decide to help me rather than harm me? I couldn't calm his rages, but he didn't need me to. I'd meant what I'd said: he did a bang-up job of it on his own. And really, he could bring my family here, away from Red.

My parents would have to give up everything they'd worked for while another woman ruined my good name. Because, if I remained Isobel, she remained Elizabeth.

On the other hand, I wasn't allergic to dogs. I could adopt more, giving them the pampered lives they deserved. Was there a worthier cause?

Maybe another kiss would give me the answer. I flattened my palm against the warmth of Callen's chest, only to hear him groan with disappointment.

"Unfortunately, the conversation and whatever you planned to do must pause. Though I double bolted the door, it seems we're to entertain a visitor anyway. My fault entirely. I never should have taught her how to use a lockpick."

I'd barely screwed my head on straight before I heard the pitter-patter of little feet. Mirren zoomed to me. "Elle!" She ignored her father, clasping my wrist and tugging me toward the door. "Gavina says it's reading time. Let's go."

"Hold up, kiddo." I dug in my heels. "I've gotta dress first. And eat. Why don't I meet you and your dad in the dining room in ten minutes? We'll fuel up, then dive into a book after he goes to the office." Wait. It was Sunday. "Are you going to the office?" I asked him.

"Since I took two days off, I must work, but I can do what needs to be done from here."

So he'd be nearby. More of that intoxicating warmth flowed over me.

"Hurry, da." As Mirren led her father from the room, Callen glanced at me over his shoulder and silently mouthed, "Thank you." I knew he referred to Mirren and her newfound desire to read.

I smiled at him, at them both, a bit discombobulated. The word family floated through my mind, and the rightness of it made it hard to swallow.

With a sigh, I shut the door. Hold up. Callen was shirtless, and I wouldn't survive seeing all that muscle and sinew at the table. I whipped off the T-shirt, cracked open the door, and peeked out. "Callen! Put this on before you steal any more of my good sense." That said, I tossed the shirt in his smiling face as he backtracked.

I sealed myself inside the room and leaned against the block, my knees knocking. What was I going to do?

Family breakfast—check.

Stepmom and daughter waving goodbye to dad as he sealed himself in his home office—check.

Reading time—check.

Now, while Mirren napped and Gavina swam laps in the pool, I collected my phone from the bedroom. Whoa! Twelve missed calls from Isobel, but zero messages.

My stomach twisted. Had she accepted my IOU or not?

I tried to call her back, but she didn't answer. So, I sent a text.

If you hurt my mom, you can say goodbye to the gold coins I scored.

A minute passed, then another. No response but no matter. I resurrected my original plan to find the mole, which meant having a conversation with Mackenzie.

I hunted the maid, plowing through the castle without the hassle of guards. Although, strange thing. Every male I spotted paled and plastered himself against the wall as if I'd become toxic. I mean, I didn't smell. I knew because I checked after the third incident.

In a sitting room on the second floor, I found the usual crew, but not the woman I sought. "Where's Mackenzie?" I asked the housekeeper beating the cushions on a settee.

With a grin and a curtsey, she met my gaze. "She called in sick, ma'am." The maid chewed on her bottom lip, as if she had more to say.

"Go on," I encouraged.

"She told us you prefer bluntness."

"That's true."

"May I ask you a question then?" Only after I nodded did she proceed. "Are you stayin' or plannin' on abandoning Mr. Bruce again?"

The others murmured their support of the question.

My breath hitched. Did they suspect the soul-switch, now that they'd seen me in action?

"I apologize if I'm bein' too blunt," she continued, "but a decade ago, you agreed tae marry Mr. Bruce. A short time later, you ran away with his brother. Mr. Bruce moved on. He had a future. If the wolf king hadn't kidnapped Miss Sorcha and mailed her back in pieces, he'd be happy today."

I sank into a chair, my hand fluttering to my throat. Tavish had murdered Mirren's mother? Disgust crested on a stinging wave. Forget working with him if he still lived. I'd find another way to get the potion.

"So. I ask again," the maid said. "Are you stayin' or planning on leaving? Mr. Bruce is a good king, and he deserves a whole heart rather than a broken one. "

"I agree," I replied, my tone fierce. "And I can assure you, if it's within my power, I'll make him happy."

The other woman stared at me in a way I suspected she rarely dared, but as I'd learned, Callen's people loved him dearly. The tension in her shoulders finally eased. She must have believed me. And newsflash: I believed myself. I really would do what I could to make Callen Bruce happy. No matter how long or short a time we shared.

My phone alerted me to a new text, and I glanced at the screen. The message had come from someone named Mr. T, according to Isobel's contact book.

Do you want the potion? I've decided on my payment…

My spine snapped straight. Well, well. Speak of the devil. Tavish lived. And he wasn't worried Callen would discover his messages—or maybe the wolf wanted him to.

"Is something wrong, Mrs. Bruce?" the woman asked, concerned.

"Please excuse me," I said, already on my feet and striding from the room.

I holed up in the royal bedchamber, where no prying eyes dared venture. Trembling, I typed: We're done. Don't contact me again.

Mr. T: Tsk, tsk. Hear my offer at least. Renounce Callen's claim on you within the week, and I'll sneak you out of the castle, fly you first class to America, and force Isobel to drink the potion.

Understanding dawned. The wolf sought Callen's humiliation and misery, now that the berserker king had let go of the past. That Tavish knew about the mark proved there was a mole in this household.

Perhaps the shifter even hoped my post-mark renunciation would inspire a rage in my husband that I couldn't calm, so I'd die like Sorcha. Only this time, Callen would be the culprit and drown in guilt.

Tavish texted me a picture. When I enlarged it, I gulped. A small clear vial with something glittery inside. The potion?

Mr. T: The choice is yours. Or are you enjoying being Mrs. Bruce a little too much?

Yes! And it was time I did something about it.

Urgency plagued me as I dialed Isobel again. Still no answer. Of course. I left her a message. "Call me back. This is life and death." For good measure, I added, "By the way, this might be about Thora." It wasn't, but it could be. I didn't dare say more in a recording. But I needed to speak with my soul-switching accomplice about Tavish.

Why had the shifter aided Isobel at all, if his goal was to hurt Callen? Why hadn't Tavish harmed her through me after the switch? For that matter, why hadn't he harmed either of us while he'd had the chance? Something wasn't adding up.

I needed a new plan. One that required strength and courage. Because…

I must speak with Callen and confess all, despite the risk. Isobel had run from him, but I wouldn't. I'd be a fool to side with his enemy. I should take the necessary steps to remove my future from Tavish's hands and put it into Callen's. How could I do anything less? I was drawn to him, and he was drawn to me. I adored the way he'd softened for me. How he looked at me. Kissed me. The husky timbre of his voice. His intensity. Even his ferocity. All directed at Elle, not Isobel. When we weren't together, I longed to be. When we were together, I only wanted to be closer. There must be a way to make things work. Perhaps he even suspected what had happened. I'd certainly dropped enough clues.

Honestly, when marching into a battle against Isobel, I'd rather have Callen at my side than the wolf.

I visited his office, but he wasn't there. On a new hunt, I went. Directions from those who'd spotted him led me to a series of room I'd missed during my tour. Ornate instruments adorned the walls of the first, including lutes, harps, and violins. Discarded sheet music lay on the floor, leading to a hand carved music stand.

My jaw dropped when I stepped through a second door, seeing at least a hundred copies of Isobel's reflection. A gallery of mirrors of all shapes and sizes lined the walls. Their surfaces reflected and refracted the sunlight pouring in through the four large windows.

A third door led to another new area where the scent of aged parchment and ink filled my nose. Framed maps decorated the space, each meticulously hand drawn. Diagrams and charts covered a sturdy wooden table. Another table provided an interactive touch-sensitive surface, complete with holographic displays. A blend of old with new.

In centuries past, Callen and his commanders must have planned attacks in the room. Now, the king muttered under his breath, pacing along a large alcove covered with a floor to ceiling atlas dotted with symbols and scribbles in a language I didn't recognize. Prince Jamie stood off to the side, staring down at a piece of aged parchment.

"Callen," I called, and he immediately swung his gaze in my direction.

He went quiet, wave after wave of adrenaline-fueled intensity flowing from him. Jamie looked my way next, his eyes narrowing.

"He survived," Callen intoned. "Tavish survived, and I can't let him get to you."

Did Callen verge on a transformation? Concern sparked. In this condition, he would definitely rage if I confessed all. This wasn't the time.

I'd wait one more day. Right now, he required tending. Which I would see to before it became too late.

I extended my hand toward him. "Come here, please."

"He must be found," he growled, remaining in place. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"And he will be found. But first I need your help."

That did it. Finally Callen acquiesced, reaching for my hand. "Give us a moment," he told the other man.

"He'll summon you when we're done," I said. I required more than a moment.

With a glare in my direction, Jamie stalked from the room, silent.

"Sit here, please," I told Callen, leading him to the only chair.

He frowned as he sat. "What's wrong?"

"Who said anything is wrong? I'm eager to test this massage technique I read about." Standing behind him, I dug my fingers into the ultra-tense muscles in his shoulders. A hoarse groan of bliss slipped from him, and I grinned. "Besides, I know for certain your mind works better when you're not trying so hard."

"You've never seen me not tryin', so how can you know this?" he asked, relaxing into my touch.

"Because everyone's does." He opened his mouth as if to argue, but I added, "If you protest, the massage stops."

Silence.

With a little laugh, I continued working the stiffness from his posture. More groans filled the air, and I realized helping him satisfied me in a way nothing else ever had.

When the half hour ran out, I bent down and kissed his temple. "Don't you feel better now?"

"I do." His thick tone did great things to my insides. He reached up to link our fingers and kiss the top of my hand. "Thank you, Elle."

"You're welcome, Callen." I smiled as I strolled off.

"One day I might chase after you and carry you to our bed," he called.

I winked at him over my shoulder. "One day I might let you."