Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Warrior Speak: Learning His Lingo Off the Battlefield

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

T he next morning, I woke up from a dreamless night alone and realized Callen had never come to bed. Had he stayed in the map room all evening?

After hurrying to clean up, I checked my phone. No new messages from Isobel or Tavish. That was good, yes? Or bad?

Not that it mattered. They weren't in charge anymore. I was, and the time had come for my conversation with Callen.

I cleaned up and dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, then went to fetch him.

"Mr. Bruce left two hours ago," Old Man Butler informed me. "Miss Gavina and Miss Mirren are in the stable, if you'd like to join them."

Yes. No! Not another delay. In the center of my being, a sense of urgency roared to life. A well-oiled engine with an endless supply of fuel. We needed to chat at long last, before Tavish took matters into his own hands.

If Callen accepted the truth of the switch without freaking out, and broke the rule demanding all switchers die, he could use me as bait to capture his greatest enemy. I trusted him to keep me safe. We could start fresh.

If he did freak out–

No, he wouldn't.

"If I may be bold, ma'am," Mr. Butler added.

"Please," I encouraged. At least he wasn't eyeing me with disdain at the moment.

"Mr. Bruce is best avoided today."

"For others, perhaps, but not for me."

Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I caught a glint of respect in his eyes. "If you say so, ma'am. He's at his remote office."

"Thank you." I fetched my purse and made my way to the front entrance, where Buzz and Ponytail stood sentry. Like all other males in the house nowadays, excluding Old Man Butler, they cringed as I neared.

"What is everyone's problem with me?" I demanded.

"The mark," Buzz replied, no longer willing to even look at me. "We feel the violence behind it."

Oooh. Yes, that tracked. And what a relief!

Now, to test my newfound freedom. "I need a car," I told the pair.

Without a word, Ponytail opened the front door. I soared outside and discovered a vehicle already waiting. The original sleek sedan with the usual driver. Had he been out here all morning, just in case?

Angus sprang into action, opening the back door.

"Good morning," I said .

He opened his mouth to respond, but only choking sounds emerged. Affected by the mark, too? Goodness gracious. How powerful was it?

Trembling, he shut my door and rushed to climb behind the wheel, sealing himself inside.

"To Callen's office," I requested.

In seconds, we were ambling down the driveway. I didn't have to look over my shoulder to know the bodyguards followed us in another vehicle, staying close but out of my way as Callen had promised.

They must have alerted him of my impending arrival, though, because my phone lit up with a new text.

Mr. Bruce: Is something wrong or is there another new massage technique you'd like to try?

Me: I wish to speak with you face to face.

No other message came in, but I noticed the driver received a call and immediately afterward, he picked up speed, weaving in and out of traffic.

I double checked my seat belt.

Dressed in a dark suit, Callen waited at the front entrance of the office building, pacing. He strode over as soon as we slowed and edged toward the sidewalk, then opened my door. Concern etched his features as he helped me into the sunshine.

"What's wrong?" he demanded. His gaze slid past me, no doubt landing on Buzz and Ponytail, who rushed closer and shrugged.

"We must talk." I strode inside the building at his side. The same two receptionists waited at the counter, carrying smart devices, ready to dictate. "Cancel his eleven o'clock. Possibly his twelve o'clock."

He didn't complain, resist, or contradict me. "Cancel everything," he muttered, releasing me to wind his arm around my waist. Then he basically lifted me off my feet and carried me past the door.

Three men in suits sat in the chairs before the desk, Jamie among them. They shifted to face us. The strangers registered shock, but the prince evinced anger.

"We've got to finish our–" one of them began.

"Gentlemen, confer with my assistant outside to reschedule," he said, his voice curt. "Jamie will help you."

The trio jumped to their feet, collected their briefcases, and zoomed out, closing the door behind them. Had Callen left them in the middle of a meeting to wait for me?

He let me go and removed his jacket, which he tossed to his desk next to a map of Scotland with several spots X'd out.

After loosening his tie, he pressed a button on a small black remote. As the wall of windows darkened, hiding us from the rest of the world, he took hold of me again and sat in the chair. I could do nothing but settle onto his lap. He rested one hand on my hip and stroked his chin with the other. An intimate position with an incredibly hot man who smoldered.

"Talk." A clear command.

I'd been in such a hurry to reach him, but, um, I hadn't thought this far ahead. I asked the first things that popped into my mind. "How have you hidden your immortality without moving out of Scotland? Did you play the part of your father? Fake your death a few times?" What did it matter? This was life and death .

"There are ways." He squeezed me. "No stalling. Talk about why you're here."

Right. "First, I apologize for interrupting your busy day."

" Upending my busy day," he corrected, but he didn't sound upset. Just cautious. "Apology accepted. Jump to core issue."

"Yes. Well. Thank you for accepting my apology." I cleared my throat. "I'd like to revisit an old topic. Semi-old." Terrible start. "Do you remember when I asked you to fly with me to the United States?"

Tension stole over him. "I do."

"What if, hypothetically, I have friends there, and they are in constant danger? I mean, not danger, danger, but emotional devastation at the hands of an evil villainess type character. And what if we could save their hearts and mine tons of grief with a simple plane ride to another country? Would you, possibly, change your mind about the trip?"

He relaxed some, his features softening. "I would remind you that we cannot enter Malachi's territory without starting a war."

"But he entered yours."

"Ours," Callen corrected. "And he didn't trespass. He entered neutral territory for an age-old ceremony."

The stones? "Why can't you and I travel the same way? Surely there's neutral territory in America."

"There is, yes. But the reasons we can't are twofold. Humans don't always survive transport, and I refuse to risk your life. Also I need permission, which Malachi won't give outside of a mating ceremony . " Brushing his knuckles along my jawline, Callen said, "Just tell me the name of the villainess, and I'll handle the problem. "

"Like, you'll have her killed?" I gulped.

He arched a brow, all babe, please. And it was oddly sexy. And wrong. But mostly sexy. "Is that how you'd like the problem solved?" he inquired.

"No!" I clasped his cheeks with both hands. "Repeat after me. I, Callan Bruce, will not kill the villainess or have others kill her. She used to be kind and loyal and honest and okay, yes, super flawed. She morphed into a monster through no fault of her own."

He narrowed his lids, his lashes nearly fusing together. "I can make no such promise. If she bothers you, she bothers me, and those who bother me tend to wind up in an early grave."

The threat rolled off his tongue, leaving no doubts of its validity. I quaked, and it wasn't because of fear or upset. How had he just gotten sexier?

"Tell me about these friends," he commanded.

Ugh. I covered my face with my palms. This wasn't going in the direction I'd hoped. "We're veering off topic."

"Why donna I have them brought to us?" he asked. "We can pamper your friends. Or we bring the villainess here and teach her the error of her ways. Or both."

Hope exploded inside me, reminding me of a Fourth of July firework display. This was exactly what I'd wished for since the beginning! Except, he deserved to know what had happened. I hated deceiving him.

Should I spill the entire story now? That was why I'd come.

I wrung my fingers, muttering, "I need to think."

His grip on me lightened. The next thing I knew, he was gliding his palm up and down my side. My nerves frayed even as my pulse fluttered.

"Let me show you something." He swiveled us in the chair and pulled me closer, pressing me against him at an angle. His body all but surrounded mine as he unlocked and opened a drawer to withdraw an ancient tome. "We both know you are referencing soul switching. Only the oldest generation remembers this, and that's the way we prefer it. For others, the command of an honorable king to refrain from doing that which should not be named is supposed to be enough. But you are my exception."

My heart fluttered as he flipped to different pages, revealing drawings that depicted groups of men, women, and children mauled in villages long past. I sucked air between my teeth. "What is it you want me to see?"

"The reason soul-switching was outlawed centuries ago. These were the first among us to realize such an ability is possible. They took advantage of it, switching with others to break a law or bed another's firebrand. After a while, no one trusted anyone else. Suspicion led to fear and fear led to madness. Our kind cannot thrive without trust."

My blood ran colder with each new word.How many times and ways had I broken his?

"That is also how the first shifters came to be," he said. "The switches caused the bond between mates to weaken. Tempers flared, and many fated ones were killed. The ensuing grief and guilt pushed the warriors to invite evil into themselves, and they turned into vicious wolves with a desire to ruin the marital bonds of others. War erupted, and thousands died."

Any hope of a happily ever after withered to ash. For the sake of the people I'd grown to care about, Isobel must return, without Callen learning of the switch.If he snapped and gave in to his wolf, if he became the very being he despised …

"Is that what happened to Tavish?" I asked, fighting tears.

"No." Callen's tone sharpened. "Tavish is my father and was my king."

"What!" How was that possible? They appeared to be near the same age. But then, they were both immortals and over a thousand years old.

"His firebrand died giving birth to me, and he shifted that very night."

Shock bombs detonated. Tavish was his father? Callen lost his mom the same day he was born? Sympathy welled along with a hundred other emotions. "What about the man the modern world calls your father? The one thought to have vanished?"

"He was my adopted father, and he died in a battle against wolves."

How the loss must have cut. I patted Callen's chest, asking, "Have you ever shown mercy to someone who soul-switched?"

"I have not."

How would he feel about those who helped bring suspicion, fear, and madness to his door? Because that's what Isobel had done. And, yes, me too. How would he trust anyone again if he learned the truth of our treachery? That it hadn't been of my own free will didn't matter. Not after everything we'd experienced together.

Dismay clawed at my sternum. I needed to call Isobel. Tell her this had to end. She must right this wrong before Callen decided we both deserved the chopping block. I had a credit card now; I could afford her ticket.

"A potion is required for every switch," he said. "A wicked thaumaturgy that infuses with the host's cells. When their blood is mixed with certain elements, and others partake, they can then switch with someone else."

Realization spit in my face, dread mule kicked my gut, and horror followed up with a sucker punch. I'd drunk someone's blood? And to return to my old life, I had to drink blood again?

No wonder Isobel avoided contact with me. Could I forge a potion by tapping into my own veins?

"Well then." What was I going to do? I needed to consider everything I'd learned. Pasting on a brittle smile, I brushed invisible lint from the collar of his shirt. "Thank you for seeing me today. I should be?—"

He held me in place. "Did someone force a switch on your friend, lass?" he asked with a dead serious tone.

Eek! No way I should answer that until I had worked through my thoughts. I pressed a hand over my heart and gave him my best bless-your-heart expression. "Why don't you think I'm the one who switched?" I'd outright stated it once and hinted often. And hadn't he noticed the differences in me?

"Because I've done exactly what I told you I'd do before we married." His tone hardened, as if he expected me to argue. "I've monitored your whereabouts and interactions."

I went still, not even daring to breathe. Including my phone calls and texts? But why hadn't he pounced? Evidence was all over my cell. Unless Isobel had found a way to keep certain communications from his notice? "Not to brag, but I'm smart enough to fool my guards." What are you doing? Stop!

He nodded. "There's also our bond. Something I only experience with you."

Yes, that was an unexpected point in my favor .

"Now," he said. "Did someone force your friend to switch?"

Okay, time to go. "My apologies, darling. I must not have been clear about the conversation being over. I'll see you at the house."

He cupped my jaw and gently plumped my bottom lip with his thumb, now one of my favorite moves. As we stared at each other, my mind blanked and my lungs emptied.

He urged me closer.My heart pounded. I didn't resist, my willpower too weak. His lips brushed mine in a soft caress. "I have never shown mercy to someone who soul-switched," he said, "but I will. I'll ensure your friend is switched back, and I'll allow her to live, though there will be restrictions for the safety of others. I will do this for you ."

I blinked rapidly, shocked. Was this really happening? He was willing to trust me with something so dangerous? Was he truly this good? "What do you ask for in return?" I rasped.

"Only that you give me the names of the switchers. I'll take care of everything else in a matter of days."

My eyes widened. It was an incredible offer. But was it too good to be true? He had no idea about the full scope of Isobel's—and my—betrayal. Would he change his mind as soon as I gave him our names?

"Don't answer now," Callen said, sensing my indecision and pouncing, giving me a glimpse of the executive inside him. "Just think about my offer."

"I will," I croaked. For a day. Maybe two. I couldn't risk Tavish or Isobel losing patience and beating me to the punch. But all these new revelations required fresh musings.

The response pleased Callen. He hooked a lock of hair behind my ear, saying, "Have I told you how exquisite you are?"

"No." At the reminder of my outer casing, bitterness and resentment crept through me, an insidious combination that eroded all joy. "What do you like most about me? My red hair? Green eyes? Willowy figure?"

He frowned at my change in mood. "I enjoy the packaging, yes, but I prefer your mind," he admitted with a low timbre. "I've never desired a woman the way I desire you, Elle. I will protect you with my life."

I should've thrilled, but his words made me feel as if he'd twisted a knife in my gut. Would he ever have a chance to direct those words at me, Elizabeth?I despaired, wanting to howl at the injustice.

"I'm glad we're building a bridge between us," he added, digging the blade deeper. "Keeping our vows to each other."

I almost shouted, "I didn't make those vows. Isobel did!"

"I'm also glad you wear my mark." Reaching out, he ghosted his knuckles along my jawline. "I want forever with you."

I heard the yearning in his voice. Felt the pleasure in his touch. He sought a happy marriage—and he deserved it. Would Isobel give him a chance? Would I? "With the real me?"

"The real you, and no other." He gave my jaw another caress. "I won't be satisfied until I get it."