Page 23

OMEN’S CALL

CADE

I woke to the soft warmth of Sean beside me, the weight of his arm sprawled over my stomach like he owned the space, like he always had.

The morning light broke through the blinds in sharp slants, tracing over his back and the wrinkled sheets tangled around our legs.

My body ached from the hunt last night, bruised ribs and scraped knuckles reminding me of the fight, but all of that faded beneath the quiet.

This was rare. Peace like this. A bubble between storms. My thoughts moved slow, almost drowsy, as I lay there watching dust float in the sunbeams. For a second, I could almost pretend this was normal, that I wasn’t dragging half of hell inside my chest like a goddamn curse.

I could lie to myself for a little while longer.

Sean murmured in his sleep, face half-buried in the pillow.

His dark hair was a fucking disaster, sticking up in every direction.

I smiled without meaning to. There was a new scar along his collarbone.

Thin and pink, not fully settled yet. Six months.

That’s how long he’d hunted alone while I was gone.

While I was rotting somewhere I couldn’t remember.

My fingers moved on their own, tracing the line of the scar, gentle, careful. There were more now. Scattered across his chest and stomach like a map of everything I missed. Every story I wasn’t there for. Guilt stirred, sharp in my throat. And underneath it, a quiet, dangerous question.

Would I have done the same if it were him? Would I have kept fighting? Or would I have let him go?

I didn’t know. That scared me more than anything.

I leaned in and kissed him, soft, just brushing our lips together. He stirred, groaned low in his throat, then kissed me back. Slower. Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His hand slid up, fingers curling around my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice rough and sleep-heavy.

I saw the flicker in his eyes, that split-second of disbelief like he expected me to vanish. It wasn’t happening as often, but it still hit sometimes, like reality had to catch up.

“Still here,” I said. “Not going anywhere.”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, worn thin at the edges. “Good.”

We stayed like that for a minute, just breathing each other in.

The kind of silence that held weight. I kissed him again, deeper this time, and he opened up to it like he’d been waiting days instead of hours.

I could taste sleep and heat on his tongue.

His fingers slid into my hair, tugging a little, and I made a sound in the back of my throat, low and involuntary.

The kiss turned slow and consuming, not rushed. This wasn’t about urgency. It was about memory, about grounding. About telling him I was still real with every fucking touch.

I shifted, rolling on top of him, straddling his hips.

He looked up at me, eyes dark and hooded, a little surprised but not resisting.

I kissed his neck, his jaw, then lower, trailing down his chest. I took my time, relearning him inch by inch.

His skin was warm under my mouth, familiar in a way that wrecked me.

His breath hitched when I licked a slow path over a scar just under his ribs.

“You always do this,” he said, voice low, teasing but breathless.

“What?”

“Act like I’m gonna disappear if you don’t memorize me.”

I looked up, met his gaze. “Can you blame me?”

Sean went quiet. His hand moved to my hair again, softer now. “No,” he said. “I can’t.”

I kept going. Lower. Until I was between his thighs, and he was already half-hard, cock twitching against his stomach. I wrapped a hand around the base and licked a slow stripe up the length of him. Sean hissed in a breath, head tipping back against the pillow.

“Fuck, Cade.”

I didn’t answer. Just wrapped my mouth around the head and sucked, slow and deep. His hips jerked, but I held him down with one hand, easing him in deeper, feeling him hit the back of my throat. It wasn’t about control. Not really. It was about giving him something he didn’t have to fight for.

Sean’s breathing got ragged. His hand clenched in my hair. “You—shit—you don’t have to…”

I pulled off just enough to mutter, “Shut up, Cullen.”

Then took him back in, letting spit pool in my mouth, using it to stroke the base as I worked him deeper. I liked the way he swore under his breath. The way he tried to stay quiet and failed. His thighs trembled under my hands. He wasn’t used to this. Not like this. Not with me in control.

When I pulled off again, he looked wrecked. Hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile.

I moved up and kissed him again. He tasted like sweat and salt and morning.

My body pressed against his, both of us already hard, friction building between us like static.

I reached into the drawer without looking, fingers closing around the bottle of lube we kept stashed there.

The sound of the cap snapping open cut through the quiet, sharp and familiar.

Sean’s breath caught.

“You okay?” I asked, softer now.

He nodded, but I held his gaze until I was sure. Then I slicked up my fingers and reached between his thighs, circling his hole slowly, watching the way he reacted. He gasped, hands grabbing at my shoulders.

“Relax,” I murmured. “I got you.”

I worked one finger in, slow and careful. Then another. His body clenched around me, breath hitching, but he didn’t tell me to stop. If anything, he rocked his hips down, chasing the sensation.

“You’re full of surprises,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

I leaned in close. “Yeah?”

“Didn’t think you’d be the one topping.”

“Guess we’re both learning shit today.”

I added more lube, fingers working him open until he was squirming, whispering curses and half-formed words. When I pulled away, he looked at me like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss me or kill me.

I slicked up my cock and lined up, pressing in slow. Sean’s head fell back, eyes fluttering shut, jaw tight. I gave him time, rubbing his thigh, whispering, “Breathe. Just like that.”

When I bottomed out, we both stilled. The heat of him wrapped around me, tight and perfect, nearly took me out. I had to grip the sheets to keep from moving too fast.

“More,” Sean rasped.

“You sure?”

“Don’t make me beg, Cross.”

So I gave him more. A slow thrust, then another. Letting it build, keeping it steady until he was gasping, nails dragging down my back. When I shifted his legs higher and hit just right, he moaned so loud I was sure the neighbors would hear.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Right there.”

I gave it to him rougher then, pace picking up, our bodies slamming together in a rhythm that felt carved into my bones.

I watched his face, the way he fell apart beneath me.

His eyes locked on mine, filled with too much—want, need, maybe even love.

I couldn’t let myself look too closely at that. Not yet.

I leaned down and kissed him hard, swallowing the sounds he made, chasing the heat curling in my gut. When he reached between us to stroke himself, I grabbed his wrist and pinned it above his head.

“I said I got you,” I growled.

He shuddered. “Then fucking take it.”

I did.

We were a mess of sweat and skin and sound, bodies grinding, hands gripping, mouths bruising. I didn’t hold back. Didn’t pretend this was gentle anymore. He didn’t want gentle. Not now. I thrust harder, faster, until the bed creaked and Sean was gasping my name like a prayer gone hoarse.

I wanted to feel what Sean was giving me. But there was still that hollow space where my emotions should be. So I gave him my body instead, let my actions speak what my heart couldn't access. Maybe if I went through the motions long enough, the feelings would follow.

He came first, all over his stomach, shaking beneath me. I chased my own release after that, slamming into him with a final few thrusts before coming deep inside him, groaning low against his throat.

We stayed tangled together after, hearts racing, breath uneven. I didn’t move for a long time. Couldn’t. My body was exhausted, but it was more than that.

Sean’s hand found mine and squeezed. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. My face was buried in his neck, trying to hold on to the feeling before the world came back.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “Just… yeah.”

He kissed the side of my head. “I missed you.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted to say it back. I wanted to mean it.

But the truth was, I couldn’t remember missing him. Couldn’t remember anything from that place. Just a blank space where I should’ve felt something. It scared the hell out of me.

So I said, “I’m here now,” and hoped it was enough.

He nodded like it was. Maybe for him, it was.

For me, I didn’t know. But in this moment, with him, I could pretend. I could let the silence stretch. I could listen to the city outside the window, the hum of life and chaos and everything waiting for us beyond this bed.

For now, I stayed. Wrapped in heat and sweat and the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my chest.

For now, that was all I had.

Later, the shower was filled with steam, laughter, and stolen kisses.

The tension in my body, the weight of the past few days, washed away with the water.

Sean pushed me against the cool tile, our bodies sliding together under the spray, and for a little while longer, I could pretend everything was normal.

That I'd just returned from a long hunt, not clawed my way out of hell.

Water slid down Sean's back, tracing the lines of old scars and new. I mapped them with my hands, learning the changes in his body—the increased muscle in his shoulders, the way he favored his left side now, the new roughness to his hands.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Sean murmured against my neck, biting down gently. “You're back. That's all that matters.”