Page 171 of Taming the Beasts

Callum shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. On the weekends we’d usually have something more substantial. Meats, pies. Chocolates if we were lucky.”

Chocolate for breakfast? I thought that was just a modern thing in cereals and doughnuts. I’d have to put chocolate chips in the pancakes. And I’d make him a bunch of meats too. Sausages and bacon. He was going to lose his mind when he tasted those.

We drove past the town square and I was relieved to see that it looked like nothing had happened at all. The chairs from the ceremony and tables from the reception had been cleared. And I couldn’t see any blood anywhere. The gazebo had even been repaired.

I was vaguely aware that anything the portrait artist had captured was probably ruined. All traces of our wedding were gone. For a few minutes there, our ceremony had been beautiful. I hoped one day I’d remember just the good parts.

“I’m excited to try coffee in the morning,” Callum said, drawing my attention back to him. “You and Zoey seem to really love that.”

“Did they not have coffee in the 1700s either?”

“No, they did. But my family was more into tea.”

“Well if you’re still feeling exhausted tonight, you can try some coffee right now.”

“I think I have plenty of energy tonight,” he said as he pulled into our driveway. Before I could respond, he was out of the car and opening up my door for me.

He may have lost his vampire speed, but he was still pretty quick.

He grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. And then he lifted me into his arms.

I laughed. “What are you doing?”

He carried me up the steps of the front porch. And then somehow managed to get his key into the lock while still balancing me in his arms. “Carrying you across the threshold.” He opened the door.

Yeah, his old-fashioned romanticism was never going to get old with me. I hadn’t even remembered that people did that. But this was perfect.

I was smiling so hard as he carried me into the home we’d worked on together. He’d done most of the work fixing the place up. But it was a perfect combination of both of us.

Callum didn’t set me down when we walked inside. Instead he kept going, carrying me up the stairs and into our bedroom.

The four-poster bed that had been in his previous home was now in our room. He set me down on it and stared down at me.

His eyes were perfectly golden. And they always would be. I’d never have to worry about them turning dark as he slowly lost control. And we’d no longer need the handcuffs attached to his bed.

In his last home, he’d recreated the room where we’d first met. I was so glad we finally weren’t living in a memory, but creating new memories together. This was a fresh start.

Callum stood up to remove his bowtie.

And that’s when I saw the new painting on top of the dresser, leaning against the wall.

“You found what the portrait artist was working on?” I pushed myself off the bed and walked over to the painting. It was only half finished. Part in color, part only a sketch.

“We can get someone to finish it,” Callum said as he walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around me.

I shook my head. Something about it felt just right exactly the way it was. The artist had captured a partial moment. Because every moment was fleeting. It was so beautiful. “I like it the way it is.” I was just so happy we’d gotten any picture of our wedding at all.

“Hm.” He kissed the side of my neck. “I also found your discarded wedding dress in a bush.”

I laughed.

“Hopefully the local dry cleaners can work wonders. And maybe we can dress up one day and take a few actual pictures.”

I smiled. “I’d like that. Wait!” I pushed his arms away and ran over to my nightstand. “I can take pictures of you now!” I’d wanted a picture of him ever since we’d first met. I snapped one of him before he even had a chance to react.

He blinked from the flash.

And I stared down at his face on the screen of my camera. He was so handsome. “I finally got a picture of the elusive Callum Walsh.”