by Zoe Chant
It was as if he’d been born in the wilderness. Every step, every turn of his head, every movement he made had the unselfconscious grace of an animal.
This was where he belonged, Diana realized. The forest was his soul’s true home.
Just as it was hers.
It was easy, so easy, to fall into step with him. Callum pointed things out as they walked; not with words, but with a glance, a nod, the barest gesture.
A sleek, sinuous marten, running along a branch. A trio of mule deer picking their way through the woods with the grace of ballerinas. A roosting pygmy owl, nearly invisible in the crevice of a lightning-split tree, its yellow eyes blinking open as they passed by.
Callum cocked his head, apparently listening to something that she couldn’t hear herself. Still without speaking a word, he touched her elbow, motioning her to follow him off the path. Diana stumbled a little, her foot catching on a fallen branch, and he caught her hand. He steadied her, eyebrows lifting a fraction in inquiry: All right?
She nodded. Somehow, out here, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be touching him. She didn’t let go.
Hand-in-hand, he drew her further into the woods. A squeeze of his fingers, and Diana knew to crouch down next to him behind the cover of a tangled bush. He put a finger across her lips—the tiny contact sent heat rushing through her—then motioned her to look out.
Diana did so, and her breath caught. They were at the edge of a small clearing. The ground dropped sharply away on the other side, making a break in the forest and giving a stunning view of the valley below. She hadn’t realized how high they’d climbed.
But the majestic landscape wasn’t what made her heart thump harder in awe.
A pair of moose grazed in the waving grass, not far away. She’d never seen one outside of a zoo, never truly appreciated how big they were. Yet for all their incredible bulk, they moved like ghosts. They could have been aliens, or spirits; beautiful and strange visitors from another world.
The male lifted his huge head, looking straight at them. His spreading antlers were wider than Diana’s outstretched arms, yet with Callum at her side she didn’t feel a trace of fear.
The bull regarded them for a moment with deep, enigmatic eyes, then snorted. He nosed at his mate, gently chivvying her further away. Silently, gracefully, they drifted into the trees, and were gone.
Callum caught her eye. His mouth quirked in that small, wry, heart-melting smile.
“I’ll pretend that I planned that,” he said, drawing her back up to her feet.
Diana hugged him, on pure impulse, heart too full for words. He froze for an instant, muscles rigid under her palms. She could feel the hammer-beat of his heart.
Then, hesitantly, his arms enfolded her. And it was right, it was home, it was where she was meant to be.
She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. Not to hug him—but that it had taken her so long to hug him. To realize that all her fears had just been Gertrude talking. Now, surrounded by his warmth, breathing in his scent, she knew that Callum had been right.
This was fate. If they hadn’t met as they had, if Beth hadn’t brought them together and bound them…maybe her fear would always have held her back. Made her keep her distance, not wanting to risk her heart.
“Callum,” she started. “I—”
“Wait.” Gently, reluctantly, Callum stepped out of the embrace, moving beyond her reach. “We need to talk first.”
Her hormones were of the opinion that they really, really needed to kiss. That all-too-brief contact with his hard, intoxicating body had every inch of her own begging for more.
But he was right. And fortunately—or possibly sadly—she was good at pushing down her own desires. Diana took a step back, even though what she really wanted to do was tackle him to the soft grass and make up for lost time.
“Okay,” Diana said. She attempted a sultry smile, hoping that it looked inviting and not like she’d had a stroke. “As long as we can do some more not talking afterward.”
Oh God. She was the worst flirt ever.
From the look in Callum’s eyes, he took her meaning though. His shoulders tensed, hands flexing. The sheer, overpowering need in his heated gaze had her reconsidering whether it was really necessary for them to discuss practicalities before pleasure.
“Yes.” His throat worked. “If…if you still want to.”
Callum turned away with a sharp, jerky movement, as though having to physically stop himself from sweeping her into his arms again. He shrugged off his backpack and knelt down next to it.
“I brought a picnic,” he said, taking a blanket from his pack and spreading it out. “You must be hungry after the hike.”
Diana could think of much more interesting things they could do on top of that blanket, but the hike had left her ravenous. She didn’t want her stomach making embarrassing gurgling sounds in the middle of a romantic moment.
She sat down next to Callum, helping him to unpack the picnic. This, it turned out, took some time. He’d brought a lot of food. Pastrami sandwiches, melon fruit salad, peanut M&Ms…
Diana suddenly realized that every single item was something that he knew she liked. Even the mint-double-stuff-Oreos, which she was certain she’d only looked at longingly when they’d been out shopping with the squad. He really had been paying attention.
And he’s got a guilty conscience.
That was definitely a Gertrude thought. Diana tried to shake off the unfair suspicion. The carefully-chosen food was just a typical sweet, romantic, Callum gesture. It didn’t mean he was trying to butter her up before dropping a bomb on her.
Of course, it would have been a lot easier to ignore Gertrude if Callum hadn’t looked like he was about to drop a bomb on her. He seemed to be avoiding her eyes, fussing with the containers and cutlery with even more than his usual fastidiousness. Although he insisted that she fill her plate, she noticed that he barely touched his own food.
Anxiety swamped appetite. Diana put down her sandwich, unable to bear the tension any longer. “You said you wanted to talk.”
Callum’s jaw tightened. He picked up a cookie; crumbled one edge of it; dropped it again. “Yes.”
She waited.
He let out an explosive breath, like a diver coming up for air. “I’m not good at this.”
“Talking?”
Callum’s chin jerked in a slight, unhappy nod. “Never been good at finding the right words. And I’m terrified of getting this wrong.”
A pang of sympathy went through her. She knew what that felt like. He was so obviously miserable, she couldn’t help wanting to reassure him, even though her own throat was tight with growing anxiety.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, at least you have a lot of other talents.” Diana gestured at the lavish spread. “You’re definitely good at picnics, for a start.”
His tight, guarded expression relaxed, just a fraction. “Not really. I’m just good at making lists. And working through them.”
“I’ve noticed that.” She’d caught a few glimpses of him consulting his small black notebook over the past few days, although he’d always hidden it again as soon as he realized she was looking. “I’m pretty sure you’re the most organized person I’ve ever met.”
“I have to be.” Callum hesitated, then went on, every word coming slower and slower. “Otherwise I lose focus. I…get distracted very easily. It’s...it’s part of what I need to tell you. What I should have told you earlier. Something you need to know about me.”
This was his deep, dark secret? That he struggled with his own mental issues?
Suddenly it all made perfect sense. His silences, his weird evasions, the way he hid his coping strategies…he’d been ashamed, afraid that his illness might make him less of a man in her eyes. Maybe Callum had even been scared that she would think it made him unfit to look after Beth.
No wonder Callum had been so desperate to prove himself, so reluctant to talk. He’d wanted to show that
he could be a good father, a good partner, before he trusted her with his secret.
“Callum.” Diana took his hand, trying to show with the touch how much she understood, how this only made her care for him even more. “Are you trying to tell me that you have ADHD?”
“No!”
Diana rocked back on her heels, startled by his sudden vehemence. She’d never heard him raise his voice before. Callum must have seen her shock, because he grimaced, rubbing his free hand across his face.
“Sorry,” he said. “Sore point. My brothers do have ADHD. Severely. My dad too, probably, though he’s always refused a formal diagnosis. But I’m not like them.”
Has Callum told you about his brothers? Blaise had asked her. Was this the reason why? Had Blaise been trying to hint that Callum might have an undiagnosed issue, one that he refused to admit to himself?
“It’s just a brain chemistry imbalance,” Diana said. “There’s nothing shameful about it.”
“I’m not like them,” he said, in tones of utter finality. “I don’t have ADHD.”
Diana had to admit, she’d never met anyone less hyperactive than Callum in her entire life. Still, the defensive set of his shoulders had her wondering…
This wasn’t the moment to push him, though. “Okay. You know yourself better than I do, after all. So what are you trying to tell me?”
His throat worked. “I’m a pegasus.”
“Uh,” Diana said, when he didn’t go on. “You’re a what?”
“A pegasus.”
She hadn’t misheard him after all.
“I’m sorry.” She could only assume it was a slang term for something, or maybe the name of a club. “I don’t know what that is.”
“A winged horse,” Callum said, as if this would help. “Like in Greek mythology.”
“No! I didn’t mean…I know what a pegasus is. You’re saying you’re an actual winged horse?”
“Yes. Well, sometimes. I turn into one.”
Well, he’s definitely right about one thing. He doesn’t have ADHD.
Though, not being a psychologist, Diana didn’t know what he could have. Dissociative disorder? Schizophrenia? A very odd psychosis?
“Have you ever talked to anyone about this?” she asked, cautiously.
Callum gave her a rather wry look, his mouth curving. “I’m not crazy.”
“I’m, uh, glad that you trusted me enough to share this, then. But I really think you need to talk to someone else too. A professional. Someone who can help—”
“No,” he interrupted, his crooked smile hooking up even further. “I mean literally, I’m not crazy. I don’t need help. I really do turn into a pegasus. I’ll show you.”
Callum stood up, stepped backward, and—vanished.
And in his place, there was, indeed, a pegasus.
Now you’re having hallucinations. Or you’re in a coma and this is all a dream. Or he drugged the food, or…or…
Diana’s flailing mind stuttered to a halt, unable to come up with a convincing excuse that would explain the evidence right in front of her. He was there, furry and four-legged and feathered.
Callum’s long head turned, watching her from one solemn eye. It was a horse’s eye, deep brown and alien…and yet somehow it was his eye, Callum looking out at her from behind that dark, horizontal pupil.
He snorted, softly, his breath ruffling her hair. She could smell him; the clean, earthy, wild scent of an animal.
Hesitantly, she touched a finger to the nearest pale, gleaming hoof. It was solid. It was real.
He was real.
A shimmer ran over his body, as if she was looking at him through heat haze. He blurred, shrank, and was Callum again.
No—he was a man again. The pegasus had been him too.
“You turn into a pegasus,” Diana said, faintly.
Callum nodded. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, looking like he thought she was about to pull out a gun and shoot him.
“You turn into a pegasus,” Diana repeated. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing for his hands. “You turn into a pegasus!”
Callum did not seem to have been expecting this reaction. He swiveled at the center of her circle, looking totally nonplussed, while she whooped and cackled and hopped around him.
“You aren’t angry?” he said, as though people who were furious with him always tried to cajole him into an impromptu dance.
“Angry?” Releasing him, she spun round in circles, arms flung wide, incredulous delight too great to contain. “The world is full of wonders and more magic than I ever imagined, and you think I might be angry?”
“Er…yes?” Callum seemed honestly baffled. “I’ve been keeping it a secret from you, after all.”
“Of course you have. You couldn’t trust just anyone with this. You had to make sure I wasn’t going to, to sell you to a zoo or stuff you as a trophy or something.” Diana clapped her hands in glee as something occurred to her. “Oh! Are there more people like you? More shapeshifters?”
“Shifters. We call ourselves shifters. Yes. Lots. The rest of the squad, for a start.”
“You’re all pegasuses?” Should that be pegasi? She was too excited for linguistics. “Because actually, that would explain a lot.”
He shook his head. “Rory is a griffin. Joe is a sea dragon. Seren’s a shark. Wystan’s a unicorn. Fenrir…” he hesitated, eying her. “Fenrir is a shifter too, though he can’t take human form. He may look like a dog, but he’s really a man.”
“Fenrir is a person?” And to think she’d treated him like a dangerous beast. She was going to owe the poor dog—man—shifter—a big apology. “And Edith? Blaise?”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Also people.”
“Callum.” She poked him playfully in the middle of his chest, glad that the worry was starting to ebb from his expression. “You know what I mean. Are they shifters too?”
“Edith is human. Blaise…” Callum hesitated again. “Blaise can shift, but she chooses not to. She doesn’t like people talking about it. And…there’s one other person you should know about.”
Who could he mean? She mentally ran through the Thunder Mountain Hotshots, and realized that it was obvious.
“I knew it,” she crowed, triumphant. “I knew there was something strange about Buck. Let me guess. Is he a grizzly bear?”
“Ah, no. Buck is human too.” Callum set his feet, bracing himself as though he was expecting a punch in the gut. “But Beth is like me. A pegasus.”
“Beth?” The world tilted, spun. “Our Beth?”
“I’m sorry.” His hands closed over her shoulders, steadying her. “I’m so sorry—”
“Sorry? Our little girl is, is magic, and she’s going to be able to fly, and, and…why on earth would you be sorry?”
“Because it’s not all good.” A shadow crossed his face. “Remember what I told you earlier, about getting distracted easily? That’s part of being a pegasus. We can sense living creatures, detect their location and nature. That’s how I knew that the moose were in this meadow.”
Diana furrowed her brow, not seeing the problem. “How is that a bad thing?”
“For most pegasi, it isn’t. They can turn off their power. But I can’t.” He made a brief gesture, indicating the general surroundings. “Everything’s always shouting at me, in my head. It makes things…difficult.”
“Oh, Callum.” She laid a hand on his forearm. “You’re scared that Beth might have inherited the same problem?”
His jaw tightened. “I hope she hasn’t. But there’s a small possibility. And…there’s a substantial risk that she’ll have ADHD, given my family background.”
“If she does, then we’ll get her whatever help she needs,” Diana said firmly. “And if she has issues with her powers, then you’ll be able to help her. She’s lucky to have you, Callum. I’m lucky to have you. You’re even more amazing than I thought.”
Callum blinked at her for a second—then, without warning, pulled her
into a tight embrace. Diana pressed against him, glorying in the hard strength of his body, the heat of his skin, the possessive way his fingers twined through her hair.
“You,” he murmured, “are the most incredible woman in the world.”
“Says the man who literally turns into an actual pegasus.” Her breath caught, a sudden mad hope blooming in her chest. “Is…is it something that you can share? With a bite or something, like werewolves in movies?”
He shook his head, his cheek rubbing against the top of her head. “Some shifters can. Not my type though. You have to be born with it.”
“Oh,” she said, trying to conceal her disappointment. “Well, I’m glad that Beth is magic, at least. And that I came to find you. I would have had a heart attack if I’d walked into her room one day to find a baby pegasus in her cot. Or will she only be able to transform when she’s older?”
“She can shift now.” A hint of pride showed in his tone. “She’s very precocious. That’s the real reason I put the string on her ankle. To stop her from shifting and running off.”
Now Diana was really glad that she’d decided to bring Beth to meet Callum. “Is that what happened the other day? When you told me you’d lost sight of her for a minute?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”
Diana leaned back in his arms to fix him with a mock glare. “Stop apologizing, Callum.”
Callum brushed a stray lock of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek, cupping her face. “I wish I didn’t have to.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.” He took a deep breath, his jaw setting. “Because there’s more.”
Chapter 17
This was it. The moment that Callum had been dreading.
The moment that he was going to wipe out all that shining, happy trust in her face. The moment the warmth in her eyes would turn to disgust, betrayal, hatred…
But he owed her the truth. The whole truth.
He steeled himself. “I think you should sit down for this.”
She gave him a look. “You just told me that you turn into a pegasus, and now you think I should sit down?”