“That means we’ve grown up together, closer than brothers and I’ve wanted this for you for over three hundred years,” Ryon clipped. “And I don’t want you to f**k it up.”
Suddenly angry at Ryon’s unwelcome and unfathomable implication, Callum leaned in and declared, “I’m not f**king it up.”
Ryon pulled in an annoyed breath and explained, “Cal, she-wolves don’t hide their emotions. You know where you stand. They’re pissed, they come at you. They feel playful, they jump you. They need affection, they nuzzle you. They want something, they ask for it and you get it for them. Female humans are not like that. They communicate in a kind of… a kind of…” he hesitated before snapping out the word, “code that only they understand. Half the time, you’ll never have any f**king clue what’s going on in their heads. Female humans’ minds are like the answer to the meaning of life, impossible to decipher.”
“Sonia has no problems sharing what’s on her mind,” Callum informed his cousin, wondering, not for the first time, especially if this was true, why Ryon bothered with humans.
“You might think that but, with a female human, you’ll never know for sure,” Ryon retorted.
“That’s ridiculous,” Callum scoffed because it bloody well was.
“That’s human,” Ryon returned. “I know you haven’t enlightened her about the wolf within, which I understand and you know I agree she should be in the bosom of our people when that knowledge is shared. But, have you been instructing her?”
“In what?”
“In everything,” Ryon replied. “Jesus, Cal, it’s like moving to a new country but without the physical location changing. Everything is different. Our traditions, our personality traits, our behavior.” He threw his arm out in the direction of Sonia’s farmhouse. “That party, for instance. That is not a wolf party and, as delightful as her outfit is, that is not how wolves dress.” He came closer to Callum and dropped his voice lower. “Everything we are, she needs to understand. She may be experiencing things that are confusing her, even alarming her, and she’d never let on. She’d just let them build and build until it either explodes or turns to resentment, against you, our people, her new life. Even the smallest thing, Callum, she might not understand. Female humans need communication, a lot of it. It’s f**king annoying but, trust me, you’re better off giving it to her than suffering the consequences.”
Callum stared at his cousin, disliking (intensely) what he was hearing but also smart enough to know Ryon knew what he was talking about. He’d spent a lot of time in female human company whereas Callum took what he wanted and moved on. He’d never played their games but he knew they had them.
And furthermore, this conversation, and Ryon’s coaching, went a long way to dispel his disquiet at Ryon’s attention to his mate.
“Fucking hell,” Callum finally muttered then yielded, “I’ll talk to her.”
“Smart,” Ryon nodded.
Callum sighed at adding yet another issue to the list he would have to sort.
Then they walked together back to Sonia’s house.
After they’d taken off their coats, Ryon made his way instantly to Caleb while Callum went to Sonia. She was standing amongst a group of her friends, listening and smiling and he approached her from behind.
He knew she knew he was there because he saw, nearly imperceptibly but it was there, her body grow tight before he was even close. Understanding it now, he’d likely notice these actions far more and he began cataloguing them.
He used his smile aimed at her friends to hide his unrest, came up to her from behind and slid an arm around her waist, placing his mouth at her ear.
“It’s time for your injection, baby doll,” he muttered in a voice for only Sonia to hear.
He was pleased he couldn’t see her eyes, even though he felt her body tense. Seeing her eyes go blank, night after night, was like dying a little death.
She turned to him, her gaze at his shoulder, and nodded, murmuring her apologies as he led her away, up the stairs, to the bathroom.
She waited obediently as he loaded the syringe.
When it was ready, she turned her back to him, one of his arms slid around her belly as he instructed gently, “Lift your skirt for me, little one.”
She shimmied it up her hips, as she did so, exposing a pair of sexy, white, lace panties he’d ordered her to go with his mother and buy (about a second after he’d gathered her unattractive undergarments and thrown them in the trash). She was also wearing lace-topped, thigh high stockings.
Regardless of his chore, he still felt his groin tighten at the sight.
Swiftly, so as not to prolong her apprehension, he administered the injection.
Facing the basin, the minute the toxin entered her body, both of her hands flew out to clutch the basin and her head lowered. She sucked in a tortured breath and her pretty face twisted with suffering. Callum dropped the syringe into the sink, yanked her skirt down and wrapped his arms around her, trying to tear his eyes from the mirror that exposed her pain and failing.
His body absorbed the tortured shudders rending their way through hers until she unconsciously dragged in calming breaths as the pain slowly burned itself out.
When it was over, she lifted her head until it rested on his shoulder, her cheek against his. His chin was lowered to her and her hands glided along his forearms until her arms were crossed and her fingers curled around his wrists.
“I even feel it in my hair,” she whispered, the ghost of pain veining her voice and Callum’s scalp stung unpleasantly in hearing the comprehensiveness of his mate’s pain.