The Girl He Marked by Laila Callaway novel Chapter 3

Callie's POV.

'What was that about' Nate asks as he drives us to the restaurant.

'I'm sorry, Rixon was round and he and Ben were getting each other riled up. They just make each other worse. I knew they wanted to invite you in for a 'chat', which really means a twelve—minute lecture on not touching their sister,' I tell him.

Nate chuckles. 'You know, the more you tell me about your brothers, the more I want to meet them.'

I stare at him in shock.

'Really What's tempting you; the lecturing or the intimidation'

Nate scoffs. 'I think they're hamming it up for you, I bet they will be alright when they finally meet me.'

I huff at his naivety. 'You don't know them; it will be bad.'

'That's the whole point, I want to know them,' Nate responds.

I consider it for a moment.

'Are you sure there's nothing they can say that will scare you away' I ask hesitantly.

Nate reaches over for my hand. He pulls it up to his face and he kisses the back of it in a sweet gesture that has my cheeks warming.

'No, baby,' he reassures me. 'There's nothing they can say. I'm staying, no matter what.'

I swallow hard, floored by the second meaning of his words. I really, really hope that is true. That, when the time comes, my past won't scare him away.

'Alright, it's your funeral,' I concede dramatically. 'You can meet them tomorrow.'

Nate grins and nods. 'Perfect. Can't wait.'

'Dude, you seriously have a death wish,' I mutter under my breath.

My mate just chuckles and gives my hand a squeeze, he's still holding it over the console.

'Nope. I just know that your brothers are going to see how much I care about you, and they'll respect our bond. It's going to be okay, baby, you'll see.'

Luckily, we arrive at the restaurant, so we don't discuss it further.

The food is great, and my company even is greater. Tears are rolling down my face (happy tears, obviously) by the time dessert is served.

I'm still smiling when Nate takes us back to his house.

We stay up and have a glass of wine each. There's so much for us to talk about. Both of us have done so much in our twenty—eight years. There are tons of things to catch each other up on.

At eleven, we decide that we should get ready for bed. I use the spare bedroom's en suite and change into the silk nighty.

I look at my reflection and give myself a mental pep talk.

You've got this, girl.

I can't remember the last time I shared a bed with a guy. Before I was attacked, anyway, so it was a long time ago.

I curl my hands into fists at my side and take a deep breath. I leave the safety of the spare room and walk down the corridor, to Nate's bedroom.

Gathering my confidence, I knock on the door.

There are a few seconds of painful waiting, but then the door opens. Nate's eyebrows shoot up, surprise covering his face as he looks at my attire.

His expression changes. His eyes darken and his jaw clenches. I watch him take a deep inhale.

'Callie,' he says my name, his voice sounding strained. 'Is everything okay'

I play with hands nervously and struggle to meet his heated gaze.

'I was wondering if I could…possibly…sleep in your bed…tonight' I slowly get the words out, my cheeks turning a darker shade of red with each passing moment.

Nate stares at me in shock, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. Eventually, he manages to recover.

He steps back opening the door fully.

'Yeah, uh— of course, come on in,' he stumbles over his words.

I've obviously caught him off guard.

I nervously walk into his room, my hands still clasped together in front of me. I resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to cover up.

I need to own this outfit.

Nate awkwardly scratches the back of his head.

'Take either side, I don't mind,' he tells me, gesturing to his large bed.

I look at it and consider which side to take. His phone is on charge on the right—hand side, so I choose the left.

I slide under the covers, instantly grateful for the coverage the duvet provides. Nate hesitates for a second, and then turns out the overhead lights.