Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Callum

Dakota sat at the kitchen table, diligently plucking shards of glass from her knees. She winced, digging one from her flesh before confiscating it to the growing pile near her elbow. Callum stood at the counter. The distillation equipment and leftover water hemlock were long cleaned up. He had even threatened Thalia within an inch of her life with the information she now had, the barrel of his gun casually resting on her shoulder, but she never flinched. She walked through the front door, her face still pale and shell-shocked.

Now, Callum was having a difficult time even looking at Dakota. He couldn’t stop the back of his knee from bouncing against the cabinet behind him. How his fucking anger pulsed through every vein. He could tell she felt his furious stare boring into her cheek. Her eyes kept flicking toward him, settling on the floor at his feet.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

Dakota cleared her throat, the sound distorted by the rage that consumed him. “Talk about what?” She didn’t look up at him.

Callum waited for a long minute as he continued to watch her. The shards of glass were gone, though now she picked at the shredded skin with her forefinger and thumb to give her hands something to do. “What the fuck do you think we need to talk about?”

She didn’t stop picking until he cleared the room and clamped his hand around her wrist. Then, and only then, did she lift her gaze to look at him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I beg to fucking differ.”

Dakota turned away from him, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. She swiped the small pile of glass into her palm and stood, weaving toward the garbage bin. “It doesn’t need to be a big deal. The distill worked. That’s all.”

That’s all. That’s fucking all. As if creating a distill like that didn’t put her in immediate and undeniable danger.

Callum saw red. It probed at the corners of his vision, coating her in it. She must have seen the flash in his eyes, and maybe they had turned red after all because her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she averted her gaze back to the floor.

“It could change the world,” Dakota said softly. Turmoil swam within the green of her eyes. She swallowed. “I just—it could do so much good, Callum.”

A deathly stillness washed over him. “It could do so much fucking bad. You’ve seen Vanguard. You know what they can do.”

Dakota’s eyes darted to his, and a spark settled in their depths. Here we fucking go. “We don’t know that Vanguard will ever get ahold of it.”

Callum had to take a moment to count to ten, if only so he could form a coherent sentence. “You’re the smartest person I know. Which means that I know you’re not that fucking stupid.”

That was all he needed to get a reaction out of her.

“I’ve been working on that distill for years. Years . You don’t get to come into my life and dictate—“

Callum let out a genuine laugh, tossing his head back. “I came into your life? That’s how you see it? That’s real fucking rich. Whose doorstep did you show up on when Lyra went missing?”

“That’s not—“

“Who did you call when Ethan was beating the shit out of you?”

Dakota's pulse pounded in the side of her neck, a simmering storm on the verge of unleashing.

“And who did you call when Ace shot Dominic Sinclair? I was the one who killed him!” Dakota shot back, squaring her shoulders to him. “You didn’t seem to find that too troubling when you had your face between my legs last night!”

Callum grabbed the first thing he could reach for, a coffee mug, and threw it against the living room wall. It shattered with a crash, yet Dakota did not yield an inch. He burned, his gut twisting as though she had punched straight through him. It was worse than the water hemlock—he would have preferred another dose.

“Then I guess we’re both stuck in this fucking cycle with each other, aren’t we?”

Her return smile was poison when his words sunk in. “This is why it would have never—“

“You knew what would happen between us the second you stepped into my shop. Don’t try to fucking deny it.”

Dakota drew in a deep, steadying breath. “This is why it would have never worked between us. Even if you didn’t go to prison, even if—“

A calm settled over Callum, a fucked up version of peace that had a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re a gods-damned liar.”

“I am not a liar.”

A dangerous fog permeated the space between them. It was possessive and claiming, like the clouds that stole away the moonlight. Callum stepped closer. She stepped back. His smirk widened—she could feel it, too. He stepped closer again. This time, her back was against the counter’s edge. His hands splayed flat on the surface behind her, his arms bracketing her. They were inches apart, and the air turned to molten lava as they shared breaths. Close enough to kiss. Close enough that he could feel every ragged pull of her chest against his abdomen.

“Do you even know why you’re a godsdamned liar?” Callum murmured, gazing down at her. She didn’t return the look, instead keeping her eyes pinned on one of the tattoos on his bicep. It only fueled his anger further.

“I am not a liar,” Dakota repeated through her clenched teeth.

Callum drew closer. Their lips brushed, but he anchored himself in place, unwilling to take that final step. “I bet you thought about me the second you hit this fucking city. I bet you fought every reason to drive by the shop. I bet you even tried before you lost your nerve at the last second. Lyra’s disappearance was a convenient fucking excuse for something you wanted all along.”

Dakota snaked her arms between them and shoved him away, but he didn’t budge. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

Her inability to admit what he already knew flared his anger to life once again. She didn't flinch away from his fury, lashing out like high winds in a storm. It wasn’t her who he was angry with, that much he knew. That distill, what it could do…the thought of her working with Vanguard, being tortured for information—it was more than he could bear.

“Even if you were right, why would you care?” Dakota retorted, anger infiltrating her expression as she attempted to shove him away again. “Why do you even fucking care?” A third shove.

“Enough,” Callum growled. With one hand, he pinned her wrists between them, and with the other, he reached up and grabbed her face in a vise grip, forcing her to look at him. “Why do I care? Because I fucking love you. Because I’ve fucking loved you for over half of my godsdamned life!” He took a breath as he let her go. He needed air. He needed space.

Dakota grabbed the back of his neck in one stride forward and pulled his mouth to hers. The action emptied any thought from his mind, sending his blood surging south as she broke the kiss to take a step back, watching him warily. One breath turned to two, inhales and exhales that cut through the silence.

With one look, she stripped him bare, removed his armor, and threw aside the shield encasing his heart. It had been a long time since he felt this exposed. It had been a long time since he felt this free.

Callum didn’t know who moved first—him or her. They could have met in the middle for all he fucking cared. Their mouths collided in a frenzy of heat, teeth, and tongues. Dakota’s hands were on his waist, yanking his shirt over his head with a rough tug before her fingers dragged up his bare chest, nails biting against his skin. He was vibrating, his whole fucking body was on fire.

Dakota’s teeth clamped over his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth. He let out a groan as he grabbed the waistband of her shorts, shoving them over her thighs. They fell to the floor, leaving her in a black thong that threatened to be his undoing. His grip slid into her hair, pulling her close enough that his cock rested against her lower belly. Amber and vanilla, every sin he ever committed had been in the name of those two scents.

The kiss was hot and heavy, anger and longing pouring into every stroke of their tongues. He tore his lips from hers, breath erratic as he planted wet, open-mouth nips from the corner of her jaw to the base of her throat. His hand trailed down her waist and under the band of her thong before he plunged two unexpected fingers into her heat.

She let out a moan of surprise, rocking into him as he pushed her harder against the counter’s edge. Gods, she was already coating his hand.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Callum said before hauling her mouth to his. He wanted to taste her mewls and keep every ragged breath to himself. He wanted her fears, her desires, her fucking future.

Dakota broke the kiss next, and Callum’s fingers slid from her as she dropped to her knees, her back pinned to the cabinets beneath the counter. Before he could think, before he could let out his next breath, she freed his length and licked him from base to crown. His hands gripped the counter the first time she took him into her mouth, and a groan ripped from his chest when she sucked so hard that her cheeks hollowed around him, lavishing his tip with her tongue.

He had dreamed of her touch. Had thought of every possibility during the nine years he was in prison. And yet, he had forgotten how it felt to have the heat of her mouth on his cock. His blood roared in his ears as he lowered a hand to grip her head, pushing him to the back of her throat. Dakota’s moan skittered over his flesh, and the sight of her swollen lips made him go damn-near feral.

Callum’s eyes flashed wide as Dakota let out a whimper as she matched the cadence of his thrusts, trailing her hand down the valley of her breasts to sink her fingers past the fabric of her thong. He nearly lost his fucking mind when her eyes rolled back at her own touch. As she played with her clit in rough circles. As her fingers dipped inside of her.

He pulled her off his cock, reaching down to grasp under her arm and haul her upward. The motion was so swift that she cried with shock before orienting herself to wrap her legs around his waist. He could feel her wetness seep through the lace.

Callum swiped Kane’s distillation equipment from the table, letting it crash to the floor. One glass flask broke, but he paid no mind to it as he deposited Dakota in the now-empty space. Her gaze was half-lidded and filled with a lust that gripped his cock, refusing to let it go. Her eyes shadowed, uncertainty clouding them as he pulled up a chair and sank into the seat.

“Spread your fucking legs.”

Dakota’s breath hitched as her knees began to split, and Callum ran his palms up her inner thighs as she leaned back onto her elbows. He fisted the straps of her thong, roughly pulling it over the curve of her ass. “What are you doing?” Her question was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Callum’s dark stare darted up at the sound of it.

“Finally using this fucking table.”

His hands grabbed the crooks of her knees, jerking her to the edge before lowering his head between her thighs. At the first swipe of his tongue at her sex, Dakota’s head fell back. He groaned at her taste. If he were back in prison and were given the option of a last meal, it would be her cunt. At the second swipe of his tongue, her toes curled against his thighs.

“Fuck.” Callum’s restraint broke, and she shuddered under the lapping attention he gave her. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t docile. He wasn’t slow. His tongue moved against her, licking and tasting like she was the last fucking thing he would ever devour.

“Oh, gods,” she ground out. Her hands dug into his hair, running her nails against his scalp. It only made him desperate for more. But he forced himself to lean back in the seat, and her head shot up at the sudden loss of his mouth. He knew she only found his molten stare.

“That’s not my name, princess.” She made a throaty sound, her eyes widening. “We’ve been over this before.” He lifted a hand to stroke a finger through her sex, watching with apt fascination at the arousal that coated it. He lingered on her clit, just enough to leave her panting, before dropping his hand back down. “What’s my fucking name?”

“Callum.”

“That’s right. You think Nekros would do this to you?”

Dakota’s gaze heated, a shot of desire turning his cock to stone as he plunged two fingers inside of her. She choked out a breath at the swipe of his thumb pressing into the apex of her thighs. His head lowered again, his blazing stare remaining fixed on her parted lips as he licked and sucked, his fingers thrusting in and out of her.

“Please, Callum, please,” she panted as he began to take his time, slowing when he felt her muscles start to clench around his fingers. Her legs were obscenely wide, showcasing her sex to him. He wanted to take a picture of it. To hang it above his bed and look at it every fucking night. But she was desperation incarnate, and he was willing to do just about anything for her.

Callum stood, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor. “You’re going to come on my cock.” She let out a moan as he withdrew his fingers from her, pushing down his sweatpants and boxer briefs until they joined her thong at the foot of the table. Her fingers scrabbled against the wooden surface as she tried to cling onto something. Her exhales came uneven and heavy.

He grabbed the base of his erection, sinking just the tip into her entrance. The groan he let out was primal, purely animalistic. Fucking gods he missed her. Missed this. Fire spread through his veins, over his skin, spreading along his bones. Her body was taut beneath his grip on her waist, and he watched as his length disappeared when he slid further inside of her. His gaze caught hers, heated gray on burning green, and Callum couldn’t fucking take another second .

He sheathed himself as she cried out, and he leaned forward enough to plant a hand on her chest, keeping her flat against the table. “You take me so fucking good, Dakota. Fuck.”

Dakota’s feet hooked against his lower back, her heels digging into his spine as he thrust into her. It was unrelenting. He was unrelenting. Every thrust deeper. He could barely breathe, couldn’t string two thoughts together. Not as she clenched around him, not as her back bowed off the table, not as she let out a throaty scream that he hoped every neighbor within six houses heard.

“That’s it, princess,” he said, working her through her orgasm. Her moans sank into his skin, filling every piece of him with male satisfaction. “So fucking tight.”

Her breath was in his ear, a chant of pants and mewls and gasps that he wanted on repeat for the rest of his fucking life. They moved together like they were made for one another, thrusts and hip rolls that weren’t a promise of a new beginning but a continuation of something that never ended.

Callum’s commands turned to pleads, which turned to begs, and by the time he was spilling inside of her, he realized that he had gone twelve years walking around as a dead man.

And she brought him back to life.