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Bonded to the Alpha Page 13
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"In the rain?"
He nodded. "Yes." Then he sat down on the bed , towel bunched in his lap, still naked. "I have thought of it from every angle. I think I have a solution." He hesitated, and when he went on he sounded utterly resigned. "I'll bond with Shauna."
Callum thought his heart might have stopped, and maybe it was the rain thrashing against the windows but Nero didn't seem to notice, or he didn't seem to care.
"With the bond restored I can heal your arm. Then I'll make sure you get far enough away that the pack won't bother looking for you." He looked up, and whatever he saw in Callum's face seemed to be taken for skepticism. "Shauna will help. I'm sure of it."
"Who the fuck is Shauna?"
The break in his voice took them both by surprise. Nero recovered first, but he looked confused. "You've met her. But ... maybe only as a wolf. She doesn't like human form."
Callum sucked down a breath. "So is that where you've been? With her?" His hands shook. No, this was all wrong, he'd thought he had it all figured out but– "Fuck, Nero. Fuck you, I can't ... Jesus!"
"Callum," Nero looked upset, one hand coming up to catch Callum's shoulder, soothing with his fingers. "No, this was for you, this is supposed to be for you." He leaned in, nosing Callum's cheek and, ugh, it made everything worse. "Then you can go, as I promised. I know you don't want any of this, and I should have thought of it sooner but ... please, don't. I thought you'd be happy."
Shouldn't he be? Wasn't this exactly what he wanted? Just a way out, and nothing to regret.
Isn't it too late for that?
But, then, if it was what Nero wanted ...
"Okay," Callum managed, not trusting his voice not to betray him again. "Okay, if you want. Whatever you want. But ... I need to tell you something."
Nero leaned his head against Callum's temple, and Callum wanted to close his eyes and just lean back into him.
But now wasn't the time. He sat back, hands tangling together in his lap, and tried to meet Nero's eye but ended up mostly talking to his feet. "Hamish asked me something. Today, when he was ... you remember." Nero's nose wrinkled, but then he smoothed his expression. Probably reminding himself how much he doesn't care, Callum thought bitterly, so he went on. "He wanted to know how I killed Holly."
Nero went absolutely still. It was uncanny. Callum didn't know if it was bad but figured it couldn't be a good thing.
"I didn't tell him. I ... the only person who knows is my sister, because she was there. But..." It was too hard. How was he supposed to say something like this? Would Nero even want to know?
"Tell me," Nero said, and it was a relief, really.
"Okay. Just, I don't know if you're going to freak out."
Callum leaned over, dragged his bag up onto the bed and rummaged around until he found the knife. He held it up, resisting the urge to say 'ta-da!' or anything equally insensitive.
"A knife?" Nero sounded so skeptical, and Callum didn't blame him.
"It's, um," Callum drew it out of the sheath, showing Nero the blade, and the pattern inlaid along it. "Silver. Silver-ish."
Nero sucked a breath in through his teeth, chin going up. He didn't quite lean back but the tension in his shoulders was awful, and the way he looked at the knife it might as well have been a viper. "Why do you have that?" He sounded so flat.
"It was my dad's. Uncle Robbie gave it to me, I don't know why. My dad and I ... we never got along." He slid it back into the sheath and offered it to Nero hilt-first. "Here."
Nero arched an eyebrow, eyes flickering to Callum's face. "What?"
"Take it," Callum said. "Hamish wanted me to do to you 'whatever I did to Holly'. And that means this knife. And I won't. I'd never. So you might as well have it."
"You'd arm me with a knife?"
Callum blinked at him. "Yeah? I mean, it's not as if you can't just rip out my throat with your teeth, anyway, right?"
Nero hesitated. "True," he said, which wasn't very reassuring. Still, he took the knife, using the towel like a oven-mitt to avoid touching it. He bundled the towel around and put the whole thing in a bed-side drawer.
"You don't seem surprised," Callum said, uncomfortable now, not least because Nero was just sitting there, naked like a very naked attractive werewolf. "About Hamish."
"What did he offer you? To do it?"
"He said he'd heal this," and he held up his arm, "when he was the alpha. And he'd make the pack let me go."
Nero nodded, and he put a hand on Callum's knee, squeezing lightly. "He lied to you. If you killed me he'd kill you himself. More likely, though, he was hoping I'd kill you. It's what he wants."
"Well, good thing I wasn't gonna." Callum laid his hand over Nero's, thumb falling naturally into the curve of Nero's wrist as though it was supposed to fit that way. "Do you ... how much do you like Shauna?"
Nero didn't quite flinch, but Callum thought he felt a quiver in the hand on his knee. "I like her. She's been a friend for years. But my affection for her isn't ... it's brotherly."
"And would you rather her? I bet you'd rather just about anyone than me."
"No." He said it so quickly, and his free hand brushed Callum's cheek as if smoothing away something that wasn't there. "No, there is no-one I would rather, just now."
"Okay. Okay, then," and he opened his mouth to say, 'I want you to, let's try again' but – no. That wasn't how to do it.
Just let him take what he wants.
Callum nodded. "Okay." He held out his hands, palms up, to offer the fragility of his naked wrists. And, then, like he'd seen Michael do, he tilted his head, baring his throat because ... well, that's what all this was, wasn't it? "If you want me," he said, glancing at Nero from the corner of his eye to see what he'd do, "I'm yours."
He willed his heartbeat to stay steady, or at least not to make it sound like a lie, and that was when he realised the rain had stopped. The night was still and quiet, just the dripping of water from the eaves, the trickling of gutters as they ran out, and Nero's breath warm and close as he leaned in to take Callum's hands.
"If this doesn't work," Nero said, his voice low and private in the dimness of the room, "then I'm sorry."
"It'll work," Callum told him, sure, somehow that it must. How could it not?
Nero's fingers brushed warmth into his wrists, lingering over the bandage on his forearm, and he pressed his mouth into Callum's waiting throat. His teeth were blunt, but they bit in hard enough to make Callum flinch. Nero scraped his teeth over the skin, and then kissed it with a tenderness that seemed out of character, except in that it wasn't, Callum realised, not at all.
This was Nero. Not the angry alpha, not the man whose lover betrayed him, but the one who took her back, even as the love withered, festered into hatred. The one who spared Callum's life because, Callum suddenly realised, it was Holly's last terrible thing, the last thing she'd done to him, and Nero had refused to let her get away with it.
That man? Callum wanted him. Fuck, how he wanted him, and for the first time he thought maybe he wanted the bond too, maybe he wanted to submit.
Give yourself, he thought. That's what he had to do, and what he wanted to do.
Callum leaned his cheek against Nero's, listening to him breathe, taking in the warmth of his skin, the soft silk of his hair. He nuzzled in, nosing up to Nero's ear and breathing on him; Nero shuddered, twisting to catch Callum's mouth and bruise it with a kiss. Callum moaned and Nero echoed back at him, and then Nero was over him, pushing him back onto the bed and covering him with the length of his hard, beautifully naked body.
Callum let it happen, let Nero hold his wrists down and plunder his mouth, let Nero take all the kisses he wanted, let him drag Callum's lip between his teeth. When he pulled away Callum craned his neck to follow him but then he made himself fall back, blinking up at Nero.
"Whatever you want," he said, meaning it.
Nero looked at him for a long moment, chest rising and falling with his deep, heavy breaths, and then licked his lip
. There was something tentative in his expression, a hesitance underlaid with some kind of fearfulness Callum didn't understand.
"Anything," he insisted, "Nero."
Nero nodded, and let go of his wrists to push his shirt up. "This. Off." Callum did as he was told and lay back down, heart scuddering fitfully in his chest. Nero bent to run his tongue along Callum's collarbone, then down, bathing Callum's chest as he went. It made Callum shiver, his skin chill in the cold room but warm beneath Nero's mouth. Nero kissed over the marks on Callum's chest and then licked over a nipple and Callum hissed because he felt it deep in his gut. Nero lapped at him, sucking the sensitive flesh and teasing with his teeth, and Callum heard himself whimper. God, he felt so needy, but no, no, this was for Nero, let him take what he wants.
What he wanted, it seemed, was to drive Callum out of his mind. He chewed his way across Callum's chest, soothing the bites with his tongue and his lips and then biting him again. He nosed up under Callum's arm, burying his face in the hair there, pushing his nose into it and scenting him. He kissed and licked down Callum's torso, fingers digging firm and possessive into his sides, and by the time he reached denim Callum was shuddering, every breath loud and uneven, and he was hard as a rock in his pants.
He lifted his hips when Nero tugged, twisted out of his jeans and his boxers, and curled his hands into the bedcovers to stop himself from palming his aching dick. God, he was leaking already, shiny with pre-come. Nero made a pleased sort of noise in his throat, ducking down to lick him clean, and Callum gasped even though he'd been half expecting it. Fuck, if Nero was going to suck him now it was going to be over in seconds, and he opened his mouth to say so but remembered in time.
Whatever he wants.
Nero didn't, though, just licked him a few times, spreading Callum's thighs with his hands, holding him open and ducking in to lick behind his balls and, fuck, the pressure of his tongue right there, right up behind, made Callum's cock jump and a jolt of warmth leap up his spine. He took a deep breath, let it go, tried not to burst. Nero, god, oh god...
And then Nero started licking his way back up, and Callum had time to breathe, and by the time Nero was kissing his mouth again he had it under control. Almost. But then Nero was sprawled between his thighs, belly against his, cock lying full and thick beside his own. Nero rocked into Callum's groin, and the slide of his cock dragged a moan from Callum's throat.
Callum hooked his legs around Nero's hips, spreading himself wide, and Nero caught both Callum's wrists in one hand, holding him down above his head, distracting him with kisses while he wrapped his other hand around both their cocks, working them together.
He felt as if time stopped, as if there was nothing more than Nero's mouth and his hands, his skin and his teeth, his flesh, nothing else that mattered, as heat gathered at the base of Callum's spine, slowly filling him. It was intense – Nero's sharp, demanding kisses, the merciless strength of his hands – Callum wanted it all, felt his muscles tighten, knew he couldn't take much more.
He broke the kiss, eyes squeezed shut, and pushed his sweaty brow against Nero's. "Fuck, I can't–" but Nero just nuzzled into his throat, growling low, working him harder. Callum bucked, shuddering, coming undone beneath Nero's hand, crying out with the force of it, god oh god. Nero slowed but did not stop, stroking him, milking every last drop until Callum was sobbing into his shoulder.
"Oh god," Callum gasped, blood roaring in his ears. "Oh ... fuck, Nero, I ..."
Nero kissed him, deep and leisurely, swallowing the words, and then slid down to lick up the come spattered on Callum's belly, and Callum felt like his head might explode.
"How are you real?"
Nero hummed, lapping at the head of Callum's over-sensitive cock to make him flinch. "I'm not, remember?" He sat back on his heels, eyeing Callum with lidded speculation and sucking the last of the come off his fingers. "Roll over."
Callum felt like jelly but he tried, flopping on his belly and completely incapable of caring how useless he was right now. Then Nero was over him, sniffing the back of his neck and nuzzling into his hair, Nero's cock hard and hot against Callum's buttocks. He heard the opening of a drawer, a clunk, the crinkle of foil, and something about it...
"If you want," he said, rolling back up against Nero's chest and bracing his weight on one arm, "you don't have to."
Nero stilled. Callum twisted to see his face and there, that awful hesitant fearfulness, and Callum wished he could take it away.
"Werewolves can't carry diseases, you said." Callum licked his lips, feeling so certain about this. "Not like you can get me pregnant. So don't. If you don't want."
Nero shuddered, ducking his head to kiss Callum's shoulder, and then his mouth. He pushed Callum back down on his front, a hand sliding one of Callum's knees up to expose him. Callum closed his eyes, breath hitching at the brush of fingers down his spine, the rumble of Nero's breath as he slid a hand up Callum's thigh, fingertips skating past his balls.
Callum felt like molten honey, loose-limbed and lazy, so it didn't take much for Nero to finger him open, slick in, and slide home. He fucked Callum slowly, an unbearably slow glide, smoothly rolling his hips up into Callum's flesh. Callum sighed, the weight and tempo just right for him to get lost in the thrumming of Nero's breath, of the heartbeat solid in his chest, in the warmth and safety and, oh, Nero felt like he fit, like he fit Callum, like they were meant to do this.
Easy. God, how had he ever lived without this?
Nero, Nero, Nero, with every tick of his heart, and how could Nero be so patient, so controlled? So hard and firm and deliberate in his thrusts, in the kisses patterning Callum's shoulders, in the smoothing strokes of his palms along Callum's flanks.
Callum almost missed it, when it happened. He felt the shift as Nero changed angle, the deep shudder as Nero's cock slid over the spot that made everything so much sweeter, and he thought that's all it was, just the spark of another orgasm, maybe, maybe, if he could be bothered. But then Nero groaned, and the sound of his voice...
"Alright?" Callum mumbled, tongue thick and clumsy with sex.
Nero growled, thrusting deep and hard and then going still, laying his cheek on Callum's shoulder. The thrust sent thrills up Callum's spine, electric, skipping along his nerves like sparks and he jerked back because, fuck, it was like an echo.
Nero was hot and intense at his back, tight along every muscle, and he was close, he'd been close for ages, but stubbornly holding off. Callum could tell. How the fuck could he tell that?
Callum rocked back onto Nero's cock, and they both made desperate noises because, fuck, Callum felt it, felt everything.
That's Nero. That's Nero feeling that.
"Is it–?" but Nero whimpered in his ear, hands shaking on Callum's hips.
"The bond," Nero said, and his voice was a wreck. He was barely holding it together. "That's ... it's done." He leaned his forehead against Callum's shoulderblade, panting, fingers digging into Callum's flesh hard for a moment before he managed to get a grip on himself. "We don't ... if you want me to stop, I'll–"
Callum couldn't help his sob. "Why would you stop? No, please, Nero," and he jerked his hips, fucking himself on Nero's cock, making both of them gasp. Holy hell, was Nero crazy? "Don't stop now!"
Nero groaned, mouth open against Callum's shoulder, and then his hips snapped forward. Fuck, Callum felt it, twice-over, and then everything else. Nero held him down, forearm braced across his shoulder-blades, the other finding his cock and jerking him with quick, light strokes as he fucked him. It was ragged and uneven, desperate, and better than anything Callum had ever known because it was fucking and being fucked and Nero, just Nero, and when Nero came he dragged Callum down with him like a rip-tide, drowning them both with the force of it.
It felt like an eternity before Callum could breathe, open his eyes, do anything at all.
Nero was massaging circles into Callum's thighs; he was rubbing Callum's come into his skin, Callum realised, which was ... ok
ay, not as gross as he'd thought. Nero also had his face buried in Callum's hair, nuzzling him, pressing light dry kisses to his neck, making small, satisfied sounds to go with them.
Callum tried to speak, but all that came out was, "Nugh."
"Mmm," Nero hummed in agreement, sliding a hand up Callum's chest. He felt content, sleepy, deeply sated and ... smug. Callum tried to twist around but all he got for his trouble was a grunt and even more covered in sweltering werewolf.
"Okay, no," Callum managed, finding a way to speak, somehow. "I'm gross. I need a wet towel and ... you're still inside me." He wriggled. It was nice, sort of, but Nero was radiating heat like a furnace and Callum had sweat all down his back, and it was going to itch and ...
Nero grumbled, and slid out. "Shower?"
"Yeah."
Nero stretched, idly scratching his belly, and his smile–
"You're so ... fuck, how are you so–" Callum waved a hand, "that?"
Nero's smile widened, and Callum felt it. "This?" He shrugged, undulating to his feet and sauntering to the door to take down a robe hung on the inside hook. "Magic, of course." He beckoned with his fingers. "Come."
Callum went. He couldn't imagine doing anything else.
Chapter 12
Nero was still asleep when Callum woke up, still snugged up against Callum's spine, the whole length of him warm and comforting. His face was buried in Callum's hair, and when Callum tried to move the arms wrapped around his chest tightened, a low warning growl rumbling in Nero's throat.
It was kinda cute. Callum, who had only ever really dated one person (and that person hadn't been too keen on staying the night) wasn't really sure how to extricate himself without getting bitten. In the end, though, he had to.
"Hey." Nero just curled up tighter. "Hey! Lemme go pee."
There was a reluctant noise from behind Callum's head, but Nero let him go. When he got up, though, Nero immediately curled into the warm space he'd left, tugging the pillow down and hugging it to his chest.
Yeah. The big scary alpha. Callum snorted, pulling on his jeans and a t-shirt. About as scary as a labrador.