While I Breathe: The Veiðimenn Mob, Book One

Thirty-Two

Morning light filtered through the curtains of the bedroom, dust dancing on the bright rays like tiny fairy sparkles. Ambrosia moaned as she opened her eyes slowly. Taking in her surroundings, she recognized her bedroom furniture. Her head was pounding with the obvious signs of a hangover – something she’d never personally experienced before now.

Callum's arm was lying across her stomach while he mumbled in his sleep. The shadow of growth on his chin tickled her shoulder as he snuggled closer to her with a contented sigh. Hans once mentioned that Callum had insomnia, but now the man was resting peacefully with his arm around her waist. Why did she feel like she was the antidote to his sleepless nights?

Maybe I am, she thought as she laid her arm over his with a sigh.

He finally stirred from his sleep, his lips brushed against the base of her neck. Another sigh, then, “Good morning, my Angel. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded, "I did. Please explain why I’m hung over? The details of last night are a bit fuzzy to me."

A lazy grin spread across his face, and her stomach fluttered slightly. He kissed her neck again, "I’m glad you slept good. That was actually the best sleep I've had in years. As for last night?”

He reluctantly released his hold on her to roll onto his back and stretch out. She eyed him as the blanket slipped down to reveal his eight-pack abs. Licking her lips, she discreetly checked to see if she was drooling at the sight of his bared flesh. As her gaze flicked down to the blankets, she started to laugh.

He c****d a brow, “Uh, what do you find so absolutely hilarious this early in the morning? You’re not even a morning person from what I remember.”

Taking in his confused look, she laughed harder. When she was finally able to catch her breath enough to talk, she said, “Oh, I’m not. You’re right about that, but Batman boxers, Callum? I thought you would have outgrown that phase by now.”

“Don’t insult the Bat, and it wasn’t just a phase,” Callum growled as he playfully pinned her under him. His eyes softened. Keeping his hands where she could see them, he trailed feathery kisses over her exposed skin. She shivered, gasping as he nibbled her earlobe gently. “It still has the same effect, I see.”

“Callum,” Ambrosia moaned. She was tired of fighting with her feelings. Slowly sliding her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her for a slow, sensual kiss.

Nuzzling her neck, he whispered, "Ambrosia, promise me you won't change your mind.”

When he pulled away, he smiled, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “As for your question a few moments ago, I assure you that nothing happened last night, Amber. You were way too wasted, and I’m not in the habit of assaulting drunk women. I took you home, carried you up to the apartment, then put you in bed. When I was leaving to go to my room, you wouldn’t stop asking me to cuddle, so I stayed.”

Hearing that he’d taken care of her without a single complaint, she felt emotions she hadn’t sensed in a while stirring. Tears pricked her eyes as she got that he still respected her enough not to try anything while she was inebriated. "Thank you."

The feeling of his hand sliding down to her thigh made goosebumps break out over her skin despite the warmth of the down blankets they were wrapped up in. She knew he was holding back his burning desire for her; something that took a strength most men didn’t have.

She raised her left hand to look at the ring, sighing in defeat. “I hope it wasn’t too expensive, Callum.”

“I honestly don’t know.” He rolled to his back again, pulling her to his chest as he went.

She frowned, confused as to why he didn’t know the cost of the ring he gave her. "Why’s that?"

“It was my mother's engagement ring. My Poppa Theo made sure Dad got it when she passed so that I could eventually inherit it," Callum said. He took her hand and inspected the ring. It was the same one that his father had carried close to his heart for years, often fingering the jewelry with a distant, longing look on his face.

He smiled sadly, "Do you remember what I told you when we were seventeen?”

She frowned, smiling softly as she recalled her teen years with him. “I… yeah. I do recall listening to you tell me about your life once. It was the first time you fully opened up to me.”

“I hear ya. Well, when I returned to my father, I learned from my Godfather that Dad was never the same after Mom was stolen from us in a petty act of jealousy. He burned all his clothes, replacing them with dark suits, and spent a fortune searching for me. What they didn’t think about was looking into the spelling variations for my name."

The knowledge brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. “That makes sense as to why they didn’t find you sooner. As for the ring: why would he part with it?”

“When I went to get his opinion regarding asking you to marry me, he took it off of the chain he hadn’t removed since my mother’s funeral, and gave it to me. Hell, he even kept the original ring box. He told me my mother would have wanted me to have it, and that she would be so proud of me,” he explained softly.

Her heart broke for him, knowing that his father's words made an impact on his psyche. Ambrosia let out a breath. "He does have the uncanny ability to take control, doesn't he?"

They froze as the door burst opened, and Phoenix ran over and swiftly crawled his way into the bed. Callum looked down at his son as he lay in between his parents.

“What did you do this time?” Ambrosia asked as she tried not to think about the mess she would have to clean later.

The little boy turned to his mother, his eyes wide. “I put a bucket of water over Uncle David's door. When he came out of his room, it fell on his head."

Ambrosia scowled, "Great."

Phoenix gasped, noticing his mother’s dark look. "Mom, please don't be mad! Grandpa helped me do it, so he and I can clean it for you!”

Callum laughed. Not only had his son thrown his Grandfather under the proverbial bus, but also told his mother he’d get Hans to help him clean. As he lay down with his family, he felt whole for the first time in years. “Does he do that often? Prank people, I mean.”

He gently tickled his son’s belly only to have Nix glower at him, smacking his arm. “Daddy, stop! I don't like getting tickled!”

Callum froze.

His son had called him Dad before, but the term Daddy had him choking up. He swallowed hard as he looked at the near-perfect replica of himself. Phoenix giggled, jumping up to start bouncing on the bed until Callum pulled him back down.

“Nix," Callum said once he calmed his son. "What would you say if your mom and I got married?”

Phoenix met his mother’s wide-eyed look with one of his own and squealed, “Really? We’d be a real family?"

Callum laughed at the boy’s excitement, “That’s the idea."

Nix squirmed out of his father’s hold, and again started jumping on the bed as he sang, “Mommy and Daddy up in a tree: K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes... then… comes…"

He stopped suddenly, dropping to his knees. His obvious seriousness not fitting with his usual personality. “Then comes a baby.”

Ambrosia asked him to repeat himself. “Are you sure? That’s a really big step, sweetie.”

“Yeah, of course! If Dad really, really wants us back that much, then I want a sibling,” Phoenix said again.

Callum shook his head, “You want a sibling?”

“Oh, s**t,” Ambrosia whispered. Her hand went to her mouth as she realized her mistake.

“Ha!” Phoenix taunted, “You owe me five dollars, Mom!”

Callum looked at Ambrosia as their son bolted from the room to look for his Uncle Declan. Smirking, he asked, “Want to explain that to me?”

He watched her get up from the bed and stretch. As she finished, she said, “If my brother and I curse, and he catches us, we owe him five dollars for each time.”

Callum got up and started making the bed. “Oh wow. What a way to get money.”

"It also helped my brother curb his potty mouth," she explained as she dug out her day clothes. “We started the agreement two years ago when he repeated something Dec said.”

Callum shook his head as he watched her get dressed. He groaned lustfully as the nightdress slid down the curves of her body into a pool of pale blue silk at her feet. Did this woman know she was capable of killing him without ever touching him?

Swallowing, he forced his thoughts back to their conversation while he inched his way to where she stood. Eyeing her like a predator hunting its prey, he asked, “What did he repeat?”

Ambrosia frowned, “He heard his uncle say ‘motherfucker’, and thought it would be okay to repeat it. After we explained why it wasn't a nice thing to say we struck the deal with him, and it’s been in place ever since.”