Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Callum

Callum insisted on driving Dakota back to his house after dropping Lyra off at the club. Lyra put up a good fight, keeping her arm hooked with Dakota’s as the truck sped down the rain-soaked roads. She even ground herself into the backseat of the cab, refusing to unbuckle her seatbelt and mustering up a handful of fake tears.

He had known her since they were small children, and he saw through the bullshit to understand what it was. She was scared to leave her best friend’s side. He could respect it. He would have even bent to allow her to tag along at any other time. But Callum could admit that, at his core, he was extremely fucking selfish.

So, Callum wiped away her fat crocodile tears, much to Lyra’s chagrin, leaned over to unbuckle her seatbelt, and heaved her from the truck without saying a word. Lyra had plenty to say, especially when Callum hauled her over his shoulder like a flour sack. And she had plenty more to add on when he dumped her in Rocco’s lap, tossed the truck’s keys on the table, and left. The segment about the shooting at the prison was already lighting up the nightly news.

He would mourn Hunter’s loss later. He would figure out what to do with the two kids Hunter did everything to get back. He would make a plan to honor the man who gave it all to keep Dakota safe. But he would do it all later. Now? Tonight? He had other plans.

The truck’s passenger door was slung open when Callum hit the parking lot. Dakota didn’t ask any questions, didn’t say a damn word as she slipped her palm into his and slid from the seat. Perfectly in sync, like they always had been. Like they always would be.

The motorcycle ride back to Callum’s house was the longest and shortest of his life. Longest, because he was desperate to get her alone, to show her with little to no words how fucking scared he was when he heard the news. Shortest, because her arms were wrapped around his waist and her thighs bracketed his hips, and he reveled in how wholly they pieced together.

Callum parked his motorcycle in the driveway and took his gun from his holster to do a sweep of the house. Dakota’s pale face illuminated against the orange-glowing porchlight. When he deemed it safe enough for her to enter, he propped the screen door open with a hip and waved her through.

Cheeks and the tip of her nose tinged pink from the cold wind, Dakota crossed the threshold with her arms wrapped tightly across her chest. Despite the anticipation that built brick-by-brick inside him, exhaustion slammed into him in a way he wasn’t expecting. With a heavy breath, he sank onto the old couch.

Dakota stood near the door, watching him with a narrowed stare. He wished she wouldn’t. A sudden urge to clean the dishes in the sink swept through. It was fucking stupid considering everything, but it would provide a distraction. He needed to do something with his hands.

“My tattoo is a cover?” Dakota asked. Her clipped question and the heartbreak lingering inside it cut straight through him. Hurt flashed across her forest-green eyes. Betrayal came next.

“Yes, it’s a cover.”

Dakota shifted on her feet, letting out a huffed exhale of disappointment that felt worse than getting stabbed in the chest. And he would know—had the scars to prove it. “So, what is it then? Some Veil marking? How long have you known? Because I thought it was some profession of your love, and…” Her voice cracked, and she trailed off to look down at the old carpet.

“I did it because I love you.”

“Hiding something from me for…gods knows how long—what kind of fucked up love is that?”

She was pissed. He couldn’t blame her. One of the things Callum loved most about Dakota was her fierce independence. Now, she drew an invisible boundary between them with a sharp, cutting stare. He supposed he should feel lucky she wasn’t storming out of the house.

“You don’t understand—“

“Make me understand.”

“It’s a Void mark.”

Dakota went quiet, her teeth clacking shut. “A Void mark?” she repeated after a moment of silence that pressed on Callum from every angle.

“When you found Lyra,” Callum started, choosing his words carefully, “was it over The Boundary?” He waited for her to reply, but when she made it perfectly clear that she had no intention of answering, he leaned back against the cushion and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Was she dead?”

She didn’t need to voice it. The confirmation was written all over her traumatized face.

“Fuck,” Callum growled as he heaved himself off the couch. He couldn’t sit any longer. He needed to pace. Needed to move. Needed to break through the roaring silence. He scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling his scruff scratch against his fingers. “What was the price?”

Dakota swallowed. She was a smart woman. A brilliant woman. And everyone knew never to make a deal with the things that live on the other side of The Boundary. Callum knew that John Montgomery drilled that into her head. For all of his flaws, at least he had that.

“What was the price?” Callum asked again, harsher this time.

“A life for a life,” she finally whispered, slanting her shoulders over her chest. It made her look small, and he fucking hated that. She wasn’t small—she was the universe. He still couldn’t help the crumpling squeeze in his chest at her admission.

“Hunter?”

Her eyes darted up, widening at his question. “No, never. Please, Callum, you have to believe me. I would never—“

Callum crossed the room in three steps, gathering her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest, letting out a sob that shook her shoulders. “I don’t think that, princess. I’m just—“ Fuck. “I’m just trying to figure this out.” He peeled her away from him, swiping at her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Even with tear-streaked eyes and blotchy skin, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Duke,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at him. “It was after the shooting. He—I put the death mark on Duke.”

Callum blew out a breath, relief flooding a cooling path through his veins. That was one less piece of shit he needed to track down. Nekros could have him.

“When did you know?”

“Do you remember when we were sixteen, and we hopped the fence to swim in that swanky hotel pool near downtown?”

Dakota’s lips curved up. “And we had to jump back after tossing our clothes over the fence twenty minutes later when security chased us out? I don’t think I could forget.”

“It was then. I saw it then.”

Realization dawned, opening her expression and parting her lips. “That was an entire year before the tattoo.”

“I tried to come up with other solutions,” Callum explained. Gods, he was so fucking bad at this. Uncertainty didn’t come naturally to him. “I thought of everything, went through every scenario, and…at the end of the day, I thought your father would turn you in if he knew. I was convinced he couldn’t know because you were still free. Then, I went over to Ace’s house that day. I saw you, Raven, and Lyra tanning on the front lawn. I decided to cover it then.” He shook his head. “I should have told you. I’m so fucking sorry. I was terrified of losing you, terrified of someone in the Brotherhood spotting it. I—“

Dakota wound her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Their lips connected, salty and soft, sensual and filled with so much love that Callum’s chest threatened to cave in. “I’m so fucking mad at you, Callum. I’m so fucking mad.”

“I know.”

“Don’t ever hold something like that from me again.”

“I won’t. Not ever. I promise.”

Callum kissed her again, the tension between them a living thing in the wake of the shooting and his confession. The kisses were languid and purposeful. No teeth clashing, no awkward angles. A steady give and take, a slip of tongues, a curl of fingers, a brush of nose tips. A burning flame that always sat between them, never extinguishing. She made a mewling sound that he wanted to record and play on repeat. He pressed his hips into her in response.

She was a distill, a fucking addiction that he had no interest in recovering from. He remembered thinking that when they were eighteen years old. He still thought that now.

Then, despite the throbbing of his cock and the eddying thoughts that were on the verge of emptying his mind, he pulled away. Her brows knitted together as confusion set in, but he only traced her swollen pink lips with his thumb.

“One more thing. ”

Callum almost laughed at her suspicious glare. Nevertheless, he sat her on the couch and padded into his bedroom to retrieve the wooden box he kept on the top shelf in the closet.

He paused in the hallway just to look at her, the box balanced between his arm and his hip. There weren’t many things in his life that he could describe as serene, but she was one of them. Like a lake in the early morning when the water looked like glass and the beginnings of a sunrise reflected off the surface. Even here, in her wild grief and tangled anger, she was home.

The thought hit him like a freight train. It was a thought he muddled over at seventeen. A thought that terrified him so much that he didn’t dare entertain it. He had pushed her away at that point. Even tried to end things. That lasted a miserable two days before he was back on the front step of her father’s brownstone, begging for just one more chance. But with age came wisdom, and with wisdom came knowing that at the end of that gut-clenching fear was a guiding light in the darkness.

Her.

Callum stepped into the living room, falling beside her and adjusting the box long enough to pull her onto his lap. With her legs dangled off to one side, he plopped the box onto her thighs and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

“What is this?”

“Open it.”

Dakota sent him a mischievous smile before cracking the lid open with a squeak from the old hinges. Her breath escaped her when she slowly, carefully picked up the first piece of paper from the pile—a strip of four photos. She had dragged him into one of those photo booths at the school fair not long after they started dating. The camera captured their tongues sticking out while they flipped their middle fingers at the lens, when they turned to face one another, how his eyes locked onto hers like she put every individual star in the sky…their first kiss.

For the first time in gods knows how long, Callum's head quieted as she flicked through the pile. Drawings he had sketched on pieces of paper while in prison. Letters the guards refused to send, each detailing daydreams of the life they would lead when he was released. How he would own a mechanic’s shop in Blackdon and she would be a mender. Her hand covered her mouth, a small gasp releasing through the gaps in her fingers when she picked up the velvet ring box he had taken to carrying around when he was eighteen. Her eyes widened as she popped it open, taking in the gold-banded sapphire that sat untouched and unworn.

"You still…why do you still have all this? Why didn't you have Kane sell it?"

“I couldn't get rid of it. It's all I had left of you,” Callum muttered in her ear, a flash of pride expanding his chest at the smattering of gooseflesh pebbling the back of her neck. “I’m not asking now. But one day, I’m gonna get that damn ring on your finger.”

Dakota kissed him as she closed the velvet box with a soft thunk, setting both boxes on the couch’s middle cushion. She spun to straddle his lap, the stubble on his chin and cheeks rasping against the palm of her hands. The kiss stole any coherent words or thoughts, his focus solely on how she ground her hips down.

She opened her hooded eyes to look at him, a flare of surprise passing through green when she saw that he was already staring at her. He hadn’t been able to look away since he was sixteen years old. Suddenly, the need to be inside of her was overwhelming. And she must have felt it, too.

Callum leaned back as her hands dipped between them. Pulling at his belt. Tugging at his zipper. Forcing his jeans over his hips. His hands shoved down the waistband of her leggings, expertly navigating them over the swell of her ass before he swiped two fingers through her wet sex. She swallowed his groan with the next pass of her mouth. Positioning her hands on his shoulders, she sunk an inch onto his length, her head tipping back with relief.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed as she moved down another inch, spreading her knees against the couch cushions as she went. He took the opportunity to run his tongue into the notch of her collarbone, to drag his lips to nip at her earlobe as his fingers threaded into her hair. That must have been enough for her because she dropped onto him fully with a moan that he hoped woke the whole fucking neighborhood.

“Yes,” Dakota breathed, leaning away from him to watch his cock thrust inside of her in slow, even motions. His fingers dug into her flesh as her lips parted, enraptured as she marked his hips flexing up to meet her. It was carnal. Patient. Unhurried.

“You like the way you look taking my dick, princess?”

A hand fell from his shoulder to his lap, her fingertips tracing where they were joined. Callum’s head fell back against the couch at the extra sensation of her touch, how her walls clamped down onto him with every circle of her hips. Her coated fingers slid up to her clit, pressing down with even strokes. She moaned his name as her eyes fluttered closed, and it was the single sexiest thing that had ever graced his ears.

“That’s right. Play with your pussy. Come on me. You were fucking made for me. ”

Wetness seeped out of her with his words, and he felt himself thicken inside of her at the sight. Fuck. Callum’s hips bucked as her fingers rolled over her clit in firm circles, her chants drifting to the ceiling when he buried himself to the hilt again and again. Dakota tipped forward to slant her mouth over his, trapping her hand between them as she worked.

A tangle of limbs. His hands on her inner thighs, spreading her wider. Sweat glistening on her chest. Whispered names. Moans. Declarations. Promises. Slow meeting intentional. Sweet meeting erotic.

Callum felt her quivering, felt her clamping around his cock. He trembled as her heat burst around him, as his mouth filled with her moans, as he stroked her tongue with his own. A guttural groan sounded as his own orgasm built at the base of his spine. And, when he pulsed, unleashing himself inside of her, her chin dropped to his shoulder, and her erratic, heavy breaths panted in his ear. She rode him through it, guiding them both into post-release euphoria.

When Callum gathered her into his chest, when he turned his head to claim her mouth again, he made sure to pour every passionate, unspoken word into that kiss. It was her. It was him. It was them. And he was going to make damn sure it would be forever.

His cell phone chimed on the coffee table. He ignored it the first time, deciding to keep playing with Dakota’s blonde locks as her head lay against his thigh. The second time, he leaned forward to press a button on the side to silence it. The movie on the television, some romcom he had been roped into watching before she immediately fell asleep, scrolled to the credits.

The third time, Dakota blearily glanced over her shoulder at him to say, “Just answer it already,” before promptly falling back asleep. Her breath fanned across his skin, and she cuddled deeper into his hip pocket.

Callum sighed as he removed a hand from her hair to lean forward and snag the phone. He had no interest in answering the call. Though they were doing nothing, it felt so painstakingly normal that he didn’t want to ruin it. Doing nothing with his favorite person felt like something, and it was that something he latched onto .

The phone vibrated for a fourth time, and he swiped a thumb across the screen to answer it before it woke Dakota again. “Yeah?”

“Callum.” His mother’s voice flooded the line, and there was an urgency with how she said his name that had him sitting up a little straighter. “I need you.”

“What happened?”

Her gulp wove through the speaker. “Can you come over? Please. I—I need you here.”

“Is this something that can wait or—“

“No!” Joanna’s snapped retort cinched his brows together, but then she let out a long sigh. “It’s about your brother. I don’t ask for much these days. Please. I just—please.”

Callum sighed, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty. I’m not staying long.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll see you soon.” The line clicked.

He looked down at Dakota, regret already filling his chest. He lifted her head just enough to squeeze out from beneath her, replacing his thigh with an overly stuffed couch pillow. Bending down, he kissed her temple, brushing back the hair that fanned over her face.

“I’ll be back.”

She grunted a response, nestling into his leftover warmth. He thought about what she didn’t know—their packed bags in the closet, the apartment he had rented for them in Blackdon, the full gas tank in his motorcycle. He was getting her out of Norwich if it was the last thing he fucking did.