Page 2

Chapter 2

Oh, woah. Where did you come from?”

A butterfly sat in Rowan’s outstretched hand. Its huge orange and black wings fluttered as it crawled across the witch’s fingers. “It”s so late in the year. And it”s night.” Callum’s heart pounded, riveted as Rowan held it up to the moonlight. Gods he was beautiful with his hair full of fire, cheeks dusted with freckles, and eyes as blue as the summer sky. “How are you even out here, buddy? Monarchs usually can’t last in this cold.”

Because it was a sign. Orlaith. That butterfly was exactly like the one that had painted her back and now it sat in Rowan’s palm. She was here in the forest beside him. She had returned on this autumn night to give her blessing.

The guilt that had once curdled Callum’s belly disappeared. No shame now. No dishonoring the memory of his former mate. This is what she granted. And who he wanted.

The butterfly took to the skies, sparkling in the silver light before vanishing amongst the stars. A smile curled Callum’s mouth. “Thank you,” he whispered to the air.

He dared to brush Rowan’s cheek with his knuckles. Rowan stilled, heat in his bright cerulean eyes and his scent fresh with the musk of his arousal. Callum never thought there’d be another like Orlaith and yet here he was; Her complete opposite. A stunning witch-boy with a gentleness and sweet nature that needed to be tasted. I’m ready to love again. Goddess, I want to love again.

And this time, he would keep his true one safe. Callum inched close enough to feel the witch-boy’s breath, to see the pulse in his throat flutter.

Rowan smiled at him. “You’re grinning.”

Callum nodded. “Indeed I am witch-boy,” he murmured, before slanting his mouth over his in a heated kiss.

Callum shook the memory free, his long deer-like ears flattening against his skull. He paced in a circle for the tenth time then looked back to the door. His witch-boy had returned? For him? Of course not. Why would he? Yet a small part of him, one he was starting to loathe, hoped he’d factored into Rowan’s sudden arrival.

Callum hadn’t seen the witch-boy since before the snow had fallen and he was positive he didn’t need to see him again. But when that cheerful voice tickled his ears, it became a drug and he crouched by the hallway door, hoping to catch a look at Rowan. Just a look. Nothing more. Perhaps it would rekindle Callum’s resentment and he could go back to brooding in peace.

Alas, one glimpse of Rowan had done him in. Gods, he was still lovely; a boyish face made wise from his forty-two years, his slender frame still solid and lean, and that smile. Oh, by Dionysus, that stunning smile.It took every ounce of strength to not dash out and take the witch-boy into his arms, all offenses forgotten.

Callum did another circle, grumbling under his breath. Leave the wing and see him. No. Stay put. Don’t chase after him. But perhaps a quick greeting would be in order since he’s already seen you. He rested his hand on the brass doorknob, eager to turn it. Look at you. Crushed yet again by a witch. You’re pathetic.

“Indeed, I am.” He clenched his jaw and forcefully yanked his grip away. Resentment returned, sending him to the new wing’s living room.

Months ago, the house had taken upon itself to create a twin version of itself for Callum and Rowan to reside in, thinking that their eventual union would end in joy, not a grim reminder of what Callum had lost.

It was the exact layout of the original house, but the décor was that of the warlock who once lived there, all leather, dark wood, and trophies of stag heads. Not a single branch of pine, or soft nest of moss for its new resident. Clearly the house was still attached to its old master. Callum hated it. It reminded him too much of the past. And for some daft reason Callum decided to live there.

Finn said it was melancholy and dramatic of him to stay. Afterall, Rowan had vanished the day after they fucked, giving a lame excuse before disappearing. But it was the closest Callum could be to the witch-boy without a direct reminder. He groaned. All right, in retrospect, it was melancholy and dramatic.

He stared at the waxy scars that covered the back of his hands. No need for a reminder of why he ran. You’re covered in the reason. They twisted up his arms in gruesome maps of puckered flesh that continued across his chest and back. One even wound up his face, slicing his lips and across his brow. The coven had intentions of removing his eye. Thank the Goddess it never came to that, but the damage had been done.

Hot sick rose in his throat. “Fuck that coven! “He kicked the settee, his hoof cutting through the supple leather. The antlered chandelier overhead shook, a rumble of irritation rattling from the walls. “Oh, shut up!” Callum snapped at the ceiling. “You’ll just mend it as usual!”

No sooner did the words leave his lips, the leather patched itself together, smooth, and soft as if nothing had happened at all. Callum jerked a thumb at the repair. “See? Maybe now you’ll change the décor here to match its new tenant.”

There was a creak in response. The door to the hallway had opened no doubt. Callum rolled his eyes. “If you are insisting, I go out there to talk to him, I won’t. He must come to me.” Loud thuds made him bristle. “I don’t know what you mean by that racket, but I’m staying right here.” He flopped onto the settee to demonstrate, folding his arms tight across his chest.

Hours ticked by and the sun had long since set. The silence of sleep filled the air. That was when Callum’s stomach decided to growl. Dammit all, he hadn’t eaten since that morning, opting to skip dinner knowing that Rowan would be sitting at the table. He shoved a hand against his belly, but the gurgles only grew. The door to the hall slammed over and over, each crash louder than the first.

“Stop! You’ll wake the dead!” Callum snarled. He jiggled as the floorboards rippled. “You want me out, then?! You’ll have to push me out, you damned-”

A wild gale swirled through the room, lifting Callum in the air. It threw him up the stairs and into the main house, dropping him onto his belly with a thud. The door slammed behind him, a smug click of its lock following.

“Well, fuck off too, you creaky shack!” Callum spit his braids from his mouth, struggling to his knees. After a barrage of crude hand gestures at the hallway, he took a deep breath, collecting his composure. “Fine, I wanted to leave anyway. Get myself a bite to eat.”

His belly rumbled as he set off down the stairs. The glow from the Yule tree warmed the otherwise dim room, creating a cheerier than usual mood that eased his sourness. He’d eat his fill then return to his wing and continue his solitude. Callum was a champion at disappearing. If he could hide in this house for eighty years, avoiding Rowan would be just as easy.

***

Rowan shot up from his bed, the warmth of the room slapping his icy flesh. His heart slammed against his ribs, nightmares racing through his mind. The car flipping over and over. The sound of crunching metal. Mom and Dad coated in blood, dangling upside down by their seat belts. Then darkness blanketed him. The shade wrapped itself tight, sucking his life and replacing it with a cold despair that made him weep. Your fault! This is your fault!

He slid out of bed, catching himself as his leg cramped. After a breath, he limped to the fireplace, eager for its glorious heat to coax the stiffness from his limbs. His flesh thawed but the guilt remained. Gods dammit, not even Ivy’s house could fight that feeling. Just when he thought he had outrun it, it had caught him in its boney fingers.

Puffs of white escaped his lips. Rowan frowned. How the hell was his breath fogging the air? He kept his room like a furnace. He groped the talisman around his neck, thumb circling the sigils carved into its worn surface. “I’m not alone. I’m not alone, I’m not alone,” he chanted, wishing the words would sink into his stubborn brain. They never did, only hovered before him like a good idea he couldn’t quite formulate.

He shoved himself away from the fireplace, blowing into his palms in hopes of bring them back to life. “Walk it off, Rowan. A quick walk and it will all disappear from your mind.”

Usually, a brisk trip around the block cleared his head. But this was Big Bear in the winter, not San Francisco. He couldn’t jump into his sweats for a little stroll unless he had a snow shovel. A lap around the house would have to do.

Rowan snatched his robe and slippers from the closet and limped downstairs. “It”s just nightmares,” he muttered. “You always get a little upset around this time. And you’re stressed. Of course, you’re bound to have nightmares.” That shade followed you here. It found some way to get to you, again. “No. The wards are too strong.” Then all those years of therapy must have worn off. Which one is it? “Rowan Bennett. Calm the fuck down. You’re fine, you’re fine you’re fine. It”s just a damn shade!”

Shades had hitched rides with him tons of times before. It was a risk that came with being a veil walker. A few cleansing spells and poof, off they went. Except this one.

Rowan rounded the yule tree, flopping onto the couch, face buried in his hands. This was more than just some spirit not wanting to cross over. This felt personal. And creepy as fuck.

Heavy clacks exited the kitchen. Rowan stiffened, lifting his head to see Callum marching out, tearing his fangs through a huge hunk of leftover rabbit meat he’d probably scavenged from the fridge.

Gods, he was still gorgeous, a hulking Clydesdale of a male with the grace of a panther. Puckered scars crisscrossed over every inch of him. Rowan had always loved how they rippled when he breathed. Fire’s warm light chiseled the satyr’s form from the tip of his huge, curved horns all the way down to his fur coated legs and cloven hooves. Slung around his thick hips was his loincloth, adorned with a strap of leather. His long dark hair was woven tight to the sides of his head, the rest tumbling down his back in a riot of beads and waves.

Off came the dagger on Callum’s belt and he cut a few slices meat free, wrapping them in a cloth and slipping them into his pouch. His comforters. There was never a time Rowan saw Callum without his pouch and dagger. A lusty sigh escaped, and Rowan slapped a hand over his mouth. Callum paused, lifting his head to sniff the air. His dark brows lowered along with the rabbit at his chops.

Crap! Rowan sunk down in hopes he could hide between the cushions, curling up tight. But Callum looked right at him, his deer-like ears perked. Rowan should say something. Anything.

“Hey.” He winced. Brilliant, Ro. Brilliant. Callum vanished with a pop, his meat dropping to the floor. The clatter of his steps hurried to the stairs. “Wait! You don’t have to go! I’ll head back to my room so you can finish eating!” He looked at the mess on the floor. “Though you may want to get another helping.”

A long pregnant silence made Rowan squirm, finally broken by Callum’s sharp voice. “You were supposed to be gone for good.”

Ouch. Rowan shook his head. “I never said that.”

“You implied it when you ran.” Callum cleared his throat, pitching his voice to Rowan’s. “I have to go, Cal. I have a…thing.”

Rowan shrank back into the couch, wishing it would swallow him. “Yeah, I did say that didn’t I?”

“Then I’ll leave you to your…thing.” There was a growl, then more steps storming away.

Rowan climbed over the couch after him. It was too late to hide. Now it was time to talk to him and clear the air. “Wait a second Cal!” A shock of pain buckled his knees and he tumbled. “Aah Fuck!”

Strong hand snared his waist and Rowan was hauled up against Callum’s invisible form, the touch of his palms burning through his robe and onto his waiting flesh. The last of the nightmare’s chill fled, as he absorbed the satyr’s warmth. Gods, he was like a glorious, sexy radiator.

“You’re hurt?” Callum’s voice was so deep. All vocabulary left Rowan’s brain, registering only that sexy snarl. “Who hurt you?”

Rowan shook his head, managing a raspy, “No one.”

“Then why did you fall?”

“It”s an old injury that acts up in the cold.”

The musky scent of pine and earth wrapped around him, heavy. Lustful. No, Rowan. Step away from this. Say good night and go to bed. That’s what his brain said. His hands were busy testing hard, hewn muscle and raised scars. A shuddering breath whispered from Callum, his arms growing tighter. Do not get a boner, Ro!

The brush of Callum’s tail thwacked his ankles, a thump-thump-thump hitting the floor behind them. Another whisk shook Rowan free of his onslaught of horniness. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Callum said all too quickly.

“Is your…tail wagging?”

“No!” Another thump-thump-thump betrayed the satyr. He released Rowan and the air shimmered. Callum reappeared; his squirming tail locked under his elbow. “See?”

Rowan covered his snorty laugh, but it kept on coming, making it hard to stop. Callum grinned. Oh Gods, he was grinning that grin. The one that made his eyes twinkle and gave his scarred face a roguish light. The very one that had brought Rowan to his knees the first time.

A sharp stab cut his mirth and he hissed, clutching his thigh. Callum scooped him up, carrying him to the couch and settling him. Rowan’s head spun. What just happened? Did he just princess carry me? Did I like it? His cock twitched. Oh yeah, I liked it.

“So, you’ve returned then, Witch-boy.”

“Just for Yule,” Rowan replied.

Callum looked disappointed. “Then you’ll disappear again. Head to what you call home.”

“Yeah, I guess I…” The nightmare came roaring back. Crash of metal on metal, the smell of burning oil, the iron taste of blood. Green eyes. Sharp dagger like teeth. His palms turned clammy, edges of his vision feathering into black.

Callum pursed his lips, tracing worried lines across his face. “What’s wrong? Why are you up at this hour?”

Rowan swallowed as he fiddled with the ties of his robe. “Nightmare. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” he echoed, the words heavy with queries. “Do you get nightmares often?”

All the time now. And they grew more vivid every time. Rowan slapped on a smile and shrugged. “They come and go. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rowan half expected Callum to leave but he just nodded. “I understand nightmares all too well.”

“I’m sure you do.” Rowan shoved his hands into his robe pockets. “But they’re just nightmares. I mean, how bad can that be, right?” When Callum arched a brow, Rowan’s blush heated. “Okay, yeah. Nightmares can be bad. But I won’t let them take over my life.”

Another grim nod before Callum looked at his hooves. “I’m glad one of us is brave enough to declare that.”

“I’m not brave. I’ve had my moments. But since they just happen in my sleep, I can endure them.” Or can you? Sleep deprivation was becoming a serious issue these days.

Callum fished in his pouch, retrieving a small bottle filled with a shimmering blue liquid. “Drink this. It will help you sleep without dreams.”

“I can’t take your calming potions, Cal. You need them.”

“Finn has endless supplies to make me tinctures for eternity. I can spare one.” He wiggled the bottle at him. “You’re of no use to anyone without sleep. Do your sisters a favor and drink the potion.”

Dammit, the satyr knew exactly what button to push to get him to comply. With a sigh, Rowan plucked the potion free. “Fine.”

Callum placed a hand over his before the bottle met his lips. “Drink when you get back to your room.”

“That potent, huh?”

“You wouldn’t even make it off this couch after a sip. You’d be asleep in moments.”

Rowan nodded, tucking it away in his pocket. “You know, sleep is a blanket statement.” Callum narrowed his eyes, and Rowan giggled. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

Callum’s grumble rolled into a gruff chuckle. “Your jokes are still awful.”

“Yeah, but you laugh. Everyone always says the jokes are bad and yet they always laugh.”

“Hopeful thinking, Witch-Boy.”

Oh, Gods the last time Rowan heard that nickname they were naked and pressed together. The sounds of Callum’s groans, the heat of his mouth. Claws digging into Rowan’s hips. The slap of a tail on his ass as Callum’s enormous cock sild inside him.

Rowan grabbed a pillow, throwing it in his lap. What was it about Callum that turned him into a hormonal teenager? Uh, look at him Ro! No, no don’t look at him! It will only make the boner worse!

Callum crossed his tree trunk arms, a slight pout on his lips. “A thank you would be nice.”

“Oh! I…sorry I…” Was too busy thinking about your dick. “Thanks, Cal.”

“You’re welcome.” Callum scooted away. “I know I am the last male you want to be near, so I appreciate the sentiment.”

Rowan blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Running away after the first fuck leaves a bad impression,” Callum smirked.

Rowan rubbed the back of his burning neck. “Oh…yeah.” Gods, you really stepped in it Ro, he thought. You really were an asshole.

“It was my scars, wasn’t it?” Callum murmured. “I was comely once. I had many bedfellows. And I have other attributes that you would enjoy…” The corner of his mouth twitched in a brief tease. “That you did enjoy. But I wasn’t always this twisted mess.”

“Are you joking? Callum, scars are hot. You are hot. Sweet Hecate you’re the hottest guy I ever laid eyes on.” Finally, the dark clouds drifted from Callum expression. His smile returned, twisting the split in his lips. Rowan softened. He reached over, hooking his pinkie around Callum’s. “I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bolted. That was really shitty of me, but I was super overwhelmed at the time and I…” He bit the inside of cheek before he confessed more than he dared. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you deserve an apology.”

More silence. It urged Rowan to hightail it up the stairs, down that potion and sleep until all this bullshit finally passed. Sleep. Ugh. No more sleep. Just sit. At least here it was peaceful. Here he was safe with Callum.

Callum’s calloused palm slid over his knuckles. “Thank you.”

The air went thick as paste, trapping them in the goop of their awkwardness. “How about a truce?” Rowan asked. “Since I’m going to be here through Yule, it”s best if we just get along.”

“There’d have to be war to have a truce, Witch-boy.” Callum’s tail flip flopped against the back of the couch, and he snatched it, clearing his throat. “I’ll accept this truce and your apology.”

A glimmer sparked inside Rowan, one that cut through the lingering nightmare plaguing him. “Cool,” he said, then groaned. Can you try to say something decent for once, Ro? “I mean awesome. Uh, cool and awesome.” That was worse. Rowan pushed himself to his feet. “Well, I better get to bed before I sound stupider.”

“Stay,” Callum charged. “I’m sure neither of us are ready for sleep.”

Rowan couldn’t fight the delicious command, loving how it vibrated up his spine. “Yeah, I can sit for a while, sure.” Another smile curled Callum’s lips and just like that, Rowan eased himself back onto the couch, the relaxed vibe overwhelming and wonderful.

Well, they had their words, they made their amends. Now what? You know what you want to do. No question about it. He’d give his right hand, and his left, for a replay of that night in October.

Callum’s pointed tongue wetted his bottom lip. Oh yeah, whatever Rowan was thinking, Callum was thinking it too. But no, he couldn’t. There was too much going on. Rowan had his sisters to worry about. He had his job, or lack thereof. But the claws dancing over Rowan’s bicep was filling him with other ideas. The sharp tips made their way up, brushing his collarbone then lifting the talisman from his neck. “You never told me what this was,” Callum said.

“It’s from my parents.” Rowan swallowed, as Callum gave the talisman a little tug, pulling him closer. “It helps with…”

Callum’s mouth was right there for the taking. Rowan balled his fists, fighting the oncoming arousal spike that was sailing right to his crotch. Too fast! Too fast!Hakuna your tatas Ro! He had to sort out his own shit before diving on Callum’s dick. But by the Gods, he wanted it so badly. Callum moved in closer, the danger reaching a fevered pitch.

“Did you hear about the woman who loved making archery supplies?” Rowan blurted. Callum pulled away, blinking in confusion as Rowan snapped his finger. “Every day she went to work, she quivered with joy.”

“By the Goddesses tits, Rowan!” Callum groaned. “Don’t make me regret this truce!” And just like that, Rowan could breathe again.