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“Should we walk?” I ask.
“Are ye joking?” Freya looks at me as if I’ve grown a third head. “Walking home at this hour in the city. No way.” Linking arms with me, she tugs me toward the door. “I’ve already got a car waiting for us.”
True to her word, a sexy little black sedan waits to whisk us home.
After climbing into the back seat beside Freya, I pull off my wig and wig cap, sighing with relief as my hair tumbles free over my shoulders. Massaging my scalp, I think about how much I still have to learn about city life, grateful for Freya’s protection.
On the ride home, we sing along with the radio, laughing when we mix up the words. She insists on paying the driver, leaving a generous tip. Threading her arm through mine, we teeter up the front steps. “Shh! Don’t wake the beast!”
We creep through the front doors, the guards on either side keeping their mouths shut as they hold them open—they know they work for Freya as much as they do her brother—then Freya kisses my cheek.
“Night night, honey!” And makes her way up the stairs that lead to the front part of the second floor where she has her suite of rooms
Kicking my heels off, I hide the shoes and wig behind an umbrella stand.
I tiptoe through the foyer to the stairs that lead to the rear of the second floor where Callum’s and my rooms are, focused on crawling into my soft bed without, as Freya warned, waking the beast.
“Fiona!”
I freeze. My heart lurches to my throat as my name is once again bellowed through the halls, echoing off their stone walls.
“Fiona!” He’s getting closer. “That had best be you coming home—” He stands before me, all seventeen feet of him, hands on his hips and fury in his gaze. “There you are.”
My stomach falls into my shoes, and a chitter runs down my spine. Not all monsters are hiding under your bed.
Some are waiting for you to get home.
Chapter Thirteen
Callum
There she is!
Her beautiful red hair tumbles wildly over her shoulders. She’s barefoot, tugging at the hem of a dress much too short to wear out.
Or to be wearing at all.
I grab her in my arms, bringing her ear to my mouth. “Where have ye been? I’ve been worried sick!”
“With Freya. We went out. For pizza.” The guilt is etched on her face as she squirms under my touch. She never lies, making her a good girl but a terrible liar.
I’ll get to the bottom of this.
By punishing her.
I slip my hand down the front of the slinky dress, pinching a nipple tightly between my thumb and finger. “I think you went clubbing.”
She gasps as I cup and squeeze her other breast, punishing that nipple as well. “You didn’t have my permission to leave.” I pull my hand away and release her, stepping back. “Now get those panties down. Around the tops of yer thighs.”
She stands in front of me, her eyes downcast in submission.
“Now.”
Her shaking fingers reach up under the skirt of her dress for her waistband, pulling her panties down, red lace against the white of her thighs. The sight makes blood rush through my cock.
"Spread your legs," I command, my voice thick with desire. She obeys, spreading her legs as far as the tight elastic around her thighs will allow.
I close the distance between us, reaching under the thin material of what she’s trying to pass off as a dress. My slick finger glides over her arousal, gathering lube. I circle my fingertip around her sweet wee bud without touching it directly.
