The feather of her lips on his.
The way they sent a shiver through him.
How his hands fitted just right at the curve of her waist – he could live and die at this moment.
A knock resounded on the door, sending Sophia apart from him. She jolted away as though she’d been stung by his touch, taking too many steps away from him at once.
“Sophia…”
She looked up at him with glazed eyes, her face was completely flushed and she looked as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
Callan opened his mouth to say something but the incessant pounding on the door once more interrupted him. He looked sharply towards it and if looks could burn, he would swear the door would have been charred alongside the person at its other side. He marched towards it, reaching it in a few angry strides and he grabbed the knob, pulling it open. Luther stared back at him with his usual cold eyes.
“Alpha,” he said, his voice gruff and loud. He bowed to Callan respectfully.
“Rise,” Callan replied, trying to keep the anger that burned at the back of his throat in check. If the leader of the pack’s warrior was here himself, it meant something had happened.
Luther was a giant of a man, with a face marred by multiple scars. The man was hardly ever seen out in public. He spent most of his time at the pack’s border and nighttime patrol, him being at the manor without summon told something was amiss.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
Briefly, Luther’s eyes went past Callan before he said, “Perhaps we should speak in private.”
“Speak,” he ordered.
Luther let out an exhale. “It is best you see for yourself.”
There was heavy guilt behind the coolness of his eyes and Callan could tell he was being intentionally hesitant with whatever he had to say. Callan had never known the man to be like this and slightly, it unnerved him.
He turned to see Sophia watching them.
“Come on,” he said to her, and briefly, surprise flashed in her expression at his offer.
She nodded before walking up to him.
“Lead the way,” he told Luther, and only when the man’s gaze lingered on Sophia did Callan remember she was still clad in his shirt and pants. It didn’t matter to him still.
They walked behind Luther in silence. The tension between him and Sophia so thick, Callan was certain if he reached out a hand, he would be able to touch it. She walked next to him wordlessly, her eyes focused ahead, her face set in a concentrated countenance, he wished he knew what went on in her head.
What was she thinking about? Did the kiss they shared cloud her thoughts the same way they did his? Was she regretting it? Callan knew his thoughts should be on whatever laid up ahead but he couldn’t control his mind from swirling all over the woman next to him and her proximity made it even harder, her scent reached him with ease, and if he moved his body slightly, they would be touching.
He hated himself for acting this way, for always thinking about her, for always craving her presence. It was damnation – these feelings – they were going to be his ruin if he didn’t curtail them and how was he meant to do that when they seemed to have a mind of their own, seeping out of him in shadowy form, always hanging over his head, reminding him that they were out of his control.
A distant noise caught his attention as Luther led the way out of the manor and toward the dungeon. Callan could feel his expression tightening. He hoped whatever had Luther so troubled had nothing to do with the servant girl. The public execution was set for two days from now and he had been thinking of ways to make her confess to Amelia’s involvement. He hadn’t been unsure of being able to convince her, he’d sent someone to get information on her family, like the way the person behind her silence was using fear, he was going to wield it too and he had no doubt the outcome would be in his favor.
“This is absurd!” Isla’s voice sliced through the air, reaching Callan just as they stepped into the dungeons. Callan had never known her to lose her cool, she was the calmest person he knew and even in the face of the previous Alpha, his father’s treatment of her, Isla remained the most patient and tranquil he’d ever seen anyone.
Luther stopped just before they reached the rows and rows of holding cells that sprawled ahead. He looked conflicted at the words that lay at the tip of his tongue.
“Tell me,” Callan said.
“I apologize and I take full responsibility for all that has happened and my men should have been watching her more carefully and…”
“Get to the point, Luther!” he barked, his patience on a fragile thread.
Luther took in a breath. “The girl ingested poison.”
“What?” Sophia asked in a horror-filled voice.
Callan could feel the blood pumping loudly in his ears, irritation coursing through his veins. He shut his eyes briefly, taking a breath before opening them to set upon Luther who was watching him carefully, genuine regret in his expression.
“Is she dead?” Callan asked.
He nodded. “We called Mathias as soon as we found out, he declared her dead shortly after he arrived.”
And as if on cue, Mathias appeared, coming out of one of the cells, his box as usual in hand. He paused at Isla’s side and began to say something to her and right behind him coming out of the cell was Amelia and at the sight her, rage blurred his vision. Without thinking twice, Callan marched towards her.
Fear reflected in her eyes as soon as she saw him.
“Callan, I—”
“How could you do this?” he yelled. Who was she? He had no recognition of the woman who stood before him now.
He knew without any level of doubt that she had done this to cover her tracks. How easy had it been for her right after pleading her innocence to him? In the short time, they’d been separated, she’d had the time to sneak in here to poison the servant girl. The lengths she was willing to reach shocked him.
He turned to one of the warriors guarding the dungeons and grabbed him by the collar before roughly slamming him against the wall. “What is your explanation for this?”
The man warrior swallowed nervously.
Callan saw red and he wished with everything in him that he could unleash his fury at the person who was actually deserving of it.
“Speak!” he roared.
“Callan…” Isla said softly to him.
“Were my fucking instruction to you not to allow her anywhere close to the prisoners?” He spat.
The warrior’s eyes were wide, panic floating through them. “She wasn’t… It wasn’t…”
“It wasn’t Amelia,” Luther said in a calm voice that served to heighten Callan’s irritation at him and his men’s incompetency.
He let go of the warrior.
“It was suicide,” Mathias declared. “She chewed on some poisonous herbs.”
Callan was stupefied. The realization that he had underestimated Amelia dawned on him. He hadn’t taken into account how much she would try to wiggle herself out of this and for the first time in his life, he felt utterly stupid.
“How did she get the herbs in here?” he chuckled humorlessly. “Let me rephrase that, how did Amelia get the herbs to her?” he asked, his eyes trained on Luther. A small gasp escaped Amelia at his words.
“Amelia only arrived here with Mathias,” Luther said with a glance to his left and Callan followed his gaze, noticing for the first time the small figure curled down at the corner, head buried into their thighs, small cries coming from them “We found remains of the herbs in the book she had brought for Claire an hour ago.”
Luther’s voice sounded faraway, fading into the background as Callan continued to stare at the figure seated on the floor, his heart thumping loudly.
“Grace,” he called, watching his sister in disbelief.