At least they agreed on the name. Calia went behind the screen, grabbed one of the folded linens, and filled it with what was left of the biscuits on the tray. She had no idea how far she’d have to walk to find Seven Cairns. She was somewhat knowledgeable about surviving in the woods, but a backup source of nutrition, no matter how scant, was a must. Something to carry water would be helpful, but it wasn’t to be found—at least, not in this room. If worst came to worst, she could drink out of a stream.
“We must not leave,” Intuition repeated a great deal louder than before. “The Ninth Realm may be in Scotland, but it is not the Scotland of your time. Why will you not accept that we have found our mate? We are stronger with him than without him.”
“Because I need to go back. I can’t adapt and pivot here—not like I did back home.” Calia couldn’t explain it, not to herself or to Intuition. All she knew was that if she returned to where she belonged, for some strange reason, it felt like she’d know what to do about all the weirdness her life had become. And besides, she needed the last connection she had to Gillian, loads of pictures, organized by year, in a book she carried everywhere.
“I know what I’m doing,” she told Intuition. “We’re going.”
She yanked open the bedroom door and groaned.
Mathison blocked her way, standing there with his powerful arms folded across his massive chest, smug and knowing. The firm line of his jaw rippled, then hardened to match his displeased glare. “Ye are going nowhere, Calia. Ye belong here with me, and here ye will stay.”
Chapter
Nine
As much as she hated to, Calia accepted that she’d lost this battle. She stood there and allowed him to take her bundle of biscuits, yank the blanket off her shoulders, and toss them both back into the room behind her. She couldn’t very well lie her way out of this one, and she suspected Intuition had alerted Mathison’s wolf and ratted her out. Time to deflect and distract.
“What is your wolf’s name?” she asked.
Mathison didn’t answer. He glared at her, and she had to admit the dark look suited him well. It sent a hot shiver of need through her.
“Mine is Intuition,” she volunteered, trying to sound as though the naming of an extra personality that might or might not be an inner spirit animal was the most normal thing in the world. “She prefers to leave her old names in the past.”
One of his sleek dark brows ratcheted higher as he returned to his defensive stance of arms folded across his broad chest. “Does she now?”
“She does.” Calia squared her shoulders and tossed him a nod. “So, what is your wolf’s name?”
“Dubh.” He moved closer, glaring down at her as he encroached upon what she’d always considered personal space.
“Dew? Like wet grass in the morning?” She wrinkled her nose, scrambling to sidestep what she sensed was about to become a very unpleasant conversation. Who knew what Intuition had spilled through what appeared to be a telepathic conduit between spirit animals? “I would have named him Bear, or Midnight, or Inky.”
“D-u-b-h as in blackness or darkness. ’Tis the old language. The Gaelic.”
“Oh.” How was she supposed to know that? Well, that was all she had. Might as well give up and listen to the lecture he appeared to be dying to give. “Well, go ahead. Hit me.”
Eyes narrowing, he slowly cocked his head and let his arms drop to his sides. “Hit ye?” he growled, the words rumbling from his throat like thunder. “Never.”
She blinked, realizing he’d taken it literally. “I wasn’t telling you to actually hit me. It’s a figure of speech. I meant, go ahead and scold me. I know it’s coming.”
“And ye bloody well deserve it.”
“I don’t think so.” She turned her back on him, recovered the blanket and bundle of cookies, and piled them on the long, cushioned bench at the foot of the bed. Tapping her fist to her chest, she tossed a glance back at him. “I know in my heart of hearts if I could return to my time, I could work things out and feel a lot better about this entire mess.”
“Yer returning to yer time would only complicate matters.”
She spun and jabbed the air, shaking a finger, as she closed in on him. “So you admit there’s a way for me to go back? Earlier, you said you didn’t know.”
He bared his teeth like an angry dog. “I still dinna ken if there is a way. What I do know is that Mairwen and her Weavers, as well as the goddesses, are less likely to be of any help until we heal our fractured souls and embrace our mate bond.” He moved even closer. His warmth enveloped her, along with his mouthwatering scent of wild, rain-soaked woodlands and a man she wanted to hold and make swear he’d never let her go.
She swallowed hard and struggled to ignore her sadly neglected libido, which had awakened with a vengeance. It had been so long, her sex drive’s gears surely had to be locked in place and rusty beyond repair. But this wanting for Mathison was more than just physical. It went even deeper than she was brave enough to admit. “I intended to go to Seven Cairns and find out.”
“By yerself?”
“Otto was coming with me.”
Mathison snorted, then rumbled another throaty growl. “Ye are not safe in the Ninth Realm unless I am at yer side.”
“That’s what Intuition said.”
