Once more, she swore she could feel what he was thinking. The wolf didn’t want to return to his skin, and it wanted to do more than just yell at her. Part of him was still angry, raging and hungry for blood. The wolf wanted to grab onto her and shake her until she came to her senses. He could do that just as easily with his hands, and it would probably terrify her far less, but maybe she needed a good scaring.
She waited for the beast to reach for her, but for a long time he didn’t move at all and the only sounds she heard were the waves washing steadily across the shore, the crack of ice as it crashed together with the movement.
When a few minutes passed, she glanced back over her shoulder again and said, “Please, Finn, change back.”
Her pleading voice calmed the savage beast, which began to painfully recede. Water splashed as he stretched back into his own skin with bone-popping groans and hisses that sounded downright close to agonizing. Freezing droplets sprayed across her cloak, her numb bare hands and arms. He remained facing her as he changed, and she could tell he was trying desperately not to make it sound painful, but the reshaping of a body couldn’t possibly be without its drawbacks.
Not for the first time since she’d met Finn, she thought about how little she looked forward to embracing her own beast—the end result of the very quest she was undertaking on behalf of the people of Dunvarak.
He swore, cursing until she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in dismay and started to turn over her shoulder to look at him again. She caught herself, realizing there would be a naked man standing at her back. Her face immediately flushed with dizzying heat. And then he noticed the cold; he was freezing in that accursed water, and he made no bones about complaining the fact.
“How are you not blue?” he called out to her through clenched and chattering teeth. “Llorveth’s bones, my gods!” The waves surged forward, pushing between her legs and soaking through her leather breeches. “I think my manhood is frozen.”
“I hadn’t noticed the water was cold,” she lied. “I was more concerned with cleaning your wounds. How do they look?”
“It’s just a few scratches.” Blood mixed with water, dripping a pink river down into the curve where his arm bent and over his tight forearm.
She turned her head slightly, not daring to look back at him unclothed. Worse, she got the feeling it was some kind of game to him, and the most curious part of her wanted to turn around, to look upon him in all his glory just to spite him, to show him she wasn’t afraid. But she was terrified of what she might find and it made her feel so ashamed.
“Oh, you would probably say that even if your arm was cut off with a rusty blade.”
Finn threw back his head and laughed at her. “I would gladly have my arm cut off if it meant you were protected.”
“Well, I would rather you didn’t.”
He ignored her, sloshing through the current of the waves until he stood directly behind her. He stopped when there was little more than a body’s space between them. She didn’t have to turn around, she could feel his heat even in the frigid water and prickled bumps spread up and down both arms before racing across her chest and making all of her muscles tighten and tense.
“Well, I didn’t, and you are safe. I suppose that’s all that matters.” He reached out a hand, rested it on her shoulder and said, “Can I use your cloak? My clothes are way back there somewhere.”
Without answer, she reached up to unpin it and rolled it back over her shoulders. She tried much too hard to avoid looking back as she handed it behind her, but it couldn’t be avoided. For the briefest of moments she caught more than just a glimpse of him and she spun back around, almost stumbling forward into the water. Her cheeks were so hot, she no longer noticed the chill of the water as the heat spread through her body.
When he spoke again, she swore she heard him grinning and there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to turn around fast and slap the smug glee from his face.
“Thank you, my lady.” Stretching it across his waist, she listened as he tied and wrenched the wet fabric into place. “There, I’m decent again.”
“You’re never decent.”
She drew in a deep breath and moved around slowly to look at him, her head turned to the side. Part of her expected to find him still exposed, and it embarrassed her even more to realize she was almost hopeful. When she exhaled through tight lips, it ruffled the damp hair hanging in her face and it seemed he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to tuck it away behind her ear. Fingertips brushed across her cheek, the burning skin tingling beneath his touch.
“I’m always decent.” His voice was soft, husky as he leaned closer, hand lingering against her cheek. She felt her lids grow heavy as she turned her eyes downward and watched the fabric of her own cloak swirl and flow with the water’s ebb around his legs.
“We could debate that all night.”
“I’d rather not.”
Ducking away from his touch, she turned her attention to his wounds. There was a deep gash that started at his shoulder and carved into the muscle of his upper-arm. Blood spilled over her fingers, dripping down her wrist and into the water below. He winced and cursed again, nearly jerking himself from her grip as he took a step back. Sucking in a pained breath, he swore so softly she barely heard it over the sound of the water.
Her own shirt was torn from the struggle with her captor, and it was wet so when she tried to tear the fabric, it resisted. She struggled with it for a few minutes before Finn finally took over, holding his hands over hers for a moment before removing them and wrenching the fabric into a long strip he then handed to her. The tear exposed the bare skin of her pale midriff, and the muscle quivered and trembled as flecks of cold water leaped up to trickle downward.
She ignored the feeling and Finn’s lingering stare, and dipped the fabric into the cold water to wet it. Wringing it with cold, shaking hands, she began to wrap it around the thick muscle of his arm. When the salt seeped into the wound, he gasped and ground his teeth tight together.
“Stop whining,” she muttered, tying the cloth off and lifting her eyes to scan across his bare chest. A bruise was already forming behind the wound there, the skin darkened purple and glistened droplets of bright red blood beading in the wiry hair curling across his breast. “The salt stings, but it’ll help the blood to clot and stop the bleeding until we can get you back to the camp and see what herbs Brendolowyn has in his bag. He may even be able to heal you.”
“I don’t want anything from the mage,” he grunted.
Narrowing her eyes, she glared up at him. “Now is not the time to be proud about who contributes to your healing. If those wounds aren’t treated, they’ll get infected and then what good will you be?”
“Better than three of him, apparently.”
She ignored his complaint and tore another strip from her shirt, this time without his help. Soaking it with water, she pushed it against the wound on his chest and took a certain amount of delight from his pain. It served him right, she thought, blaming Bren for what happened to her. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own.
But he’d been the one who saved her, rushing in from the gods only knew where and tearing her enemies to pieces. She felt guilty then, for causing him pain, and softened her strokes across the wounds on his chest.
Her hand lingered against his arm, sliding down its length until it rested on his elbow. “There’s a salve from the healer in my bag.”
He took another step toward her, closing the gap between them and staring down at her with such intensity, she swore she felt more than just his heartbeat. For a moment, she felt his rage, and it was terrifying to behold. And then, everything about him softened.
“What were you doing down here alone?” He brought his hand up to her face again, fingers sliding along her cheek until they disappeared into the loose locks of her damp hair and rested against the back of her neck. “I heard your screams, and every part of me filled with dread.”
> She tilted her eyes downward, afraid he’d see the shame she felt, but he didn’t let her off that easily. He nudged her chin upward with the knuckles of his other hand so she’d have no choice but to look him in the eye. Her lip disappeared between her teeth, which nibbled nervously on the dry skin as she fretted.
“You could have been killed, Lore—”
“Please don’t, Finn,” she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I already feel stupid enough, all right.” She’d cut him off before he could finish her name, the familiar sound of her sister’s nickname for her endearing her to him, even if it hadn’t been intentional. He said her name so rarely, it was nice to hear it on his lips.
“And you should feel stupid.” He regretted the words, the way they made her feel, the minute they left his mouth. “I never would have left you alone with that mage if I’d known he was just going to let you wander all over Rimian unprotected.”
“It’s not Bren’s fault,” she stammered, and then stubbornly added, “and I don’t need to be protected.”
“I beg to differ!” he growled. “And where is your sword?”
“Back at the camp,” she said sheepishly.
“Back at the… Lorelei…”
“Finn.” She struggled out of his grip defiantly. “You can’t watch me every minute of the day, and neither can Bren. I’ve been in constant company for weeks. I just wanted some time to myself, time to think with a clear head.” Her tone tightened as the features of her face hardened.
“Your head obviously wasn’t clear,” he snapped. “A clear head would never have sent you wandering off in unfamiliar territory alone, much less without a weapon in your hand.”
“Bren was right there…”
“All the trolls we’ve seen since we left the Edgelands… The goblins… Did it not even occur to you that you might find yourself in need of protection?”
She chewed at the corner of her mouth and refused to look up at him.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but this isn’t some trip into a field of butterflies and daydreams we’re taking, Princess.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” He let his hand drop from her face, the tips of his fingers brushing across the top of the water. “Do you even realize the dangers that await you? Everywhere you go…”
“Yes! I realize them!” It was her turn to raise voice, her eyes finally lifting to his face when she spoke. “Danger is everywhere, Finn. I’m not stupid.”
“Princess…”
“Oh, don’t you princess me.” She took a step back, almost losing her footing as the waves shoved against her hips.
“Gods,” he sighed, raking both hands through his hair, his fingers tightening around the strands and holding them away from his face. “This is a punishment,” he declared. “The gods are punishing me for all those times I refused to listen to my brother’s wisdom.” Letting the hair drop, his arms fell at his sides, fingers dipping into the icy water. “And that mage,” he growled, clenching them into fists. “Everyone says elves are supposed to be so gods damn clever, but I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so stupid in my life. What was he thinking, letting you wander off alone?”
“Stop it! This is not his fault.”
“He swore to protect you.”
“And so did you,” she shot back. “But you’re not always going to be there. Bren’s not always going to be there. You can’t be. I can’t expect that from either of you. I need to learn to take care of myself if I want to survive.”
“You’re off to a great start, Princess.” He pointed his finger and declared, “And you’re wrong about one thing. I am always going to be there.”
“Don’t be…”
“From this moment forward, you won’t even slip off into the woods to squat and make water without me watching your back. Everywhere you go, I’m there.”
“You’re an idiot.” She shook her head and turned away from him, but he wasn’t about to let her just walk off.
Reaching out he gripped her hand before it was out of reach and tugged her back against his bare chest. Water splashed and gushed between them soaking the dry front of her shirt and making her gasp. His other arm tightened across the small of her back, holding her there even as she struggled and nearly knocked them both off balance in the constant rocking of the waves.
“Don’t you get it?” he growled through clenched teeth. “The mere thought of you coming to harm makes this idiot’s heart stop in his chest.”
It only took a few seconds for her to relax against him, the tightness of her body softening, her heaving breasts rising and falling against him as her warm breath rushed out in puffs across his damp skin. She watched the chills rise, lifting the hairs on his body as the pores tightened. His own breath was like fire against her already burning skin, and when she felt his body stiffening against hers, she grew pliable as warm clay in his arms. She wanted to stand that way with him forever, where it was comfortable and safe, where all the senseless things that shouldn’t matter at all seemed to make perfect sense.
She wanted him. Wanted to share some part of herself with him she’d never shared with anyone else, but how was any of that even important? How was the way she felt about him in any way important at all, when there was so much she had to do? When the very fate of the world depended on her choices?
“Princess,” he whispered, tilting his face inward, so close to her own she could almost feel his facial hair tingling against her cheek. And then she felt his need for her, the dangerous, animal need that forced him to sleep apart from her the night before they left Dunvarak, the part of him he said he didn’t know if he could control.
Heart pounding furiously inside her chest, she was trembling again, struggling to free herself from his arms.
But she didn’t pull back hard enough to actually break free.
“Let me go,” she whispered breathlessly, finding her courage as she raised bold eyes to meet with his.
“Never.”
“Finn, please,” she didn’t mean it. She didn’t want him to let her go, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in the desperate, climbing rhythm of her heart. “We shouldn’t linger here. I’m starting to feel the cold.”
“I’ll keep you warm,” he said, lowering his lips to her ear.
Instead of pulling away from him, she stretched against him, arching her back and nuzzling the side of her face through the rough hair on his cheek. The sensation was almost delightful, scratchy, but soft enough to tickle her skin. She turned her lips toward his ear and said, “The sun will be setting soon, and only the gods know what else is out here.”
“I would protect you.” She melted against him, every part of her softening as the heat of his breath tickled and made her gasp. “Even from the gods.”
“Finn,” she breathed his name like a sigh, the very sound tightening every muscle in his body until he was rigid and hard against her.
He turned his face into hers and kissed his name from her lips, sinking deep into her soft mouth. Blood pumped through her heart, the pace of her pulse quickening with fear and uncertain desire, but she didn’t just let him kiss her. She kissed him back, surging upward almost aggressively and answering the tease of his warm tongue with a flick of her own. His fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of her neck, tightening and drawing her in deeper. She whimpered, the vibration of sound tingling through his parted lips.
There should be no turning back from such a kiss, but just as suddenly as she’d claimed his mouth, she pulled away again, her eyes moving shamefully downward as she moved out of his slackened arms.
It was all he could do to reach out and grab her hand. The feel of her skin against his was magic, tingling warmth passing between their bodies as their hearts found the same rhythmic path.
“Tell me you don’t feel that. That you don’t feel the ache I feel, the need for you dominating my every breath.”
She didn’t disagree, but said, “Now is not the time for such things.”
> “No?” He stood as if entranced. “When is the right time for such a thing?”
When one of us is dead?
It was a piteous thought, heart-wrenching and cold inside her, and it almost changed her mind again. There was no right time, no time like the present moment, but it still wasn’t right and she knew it.
“I don’t know.” She chewed her lip again, thoughtfully disturbed and confused by things neither of them could put into words. She wanted him too, really, she did. “There are too many things, Finn,” she finally said. “Things beyond this, beyond us.” She gestured between them and raised her stare to his again. “I just know now is not the right time.”
“When the time is right…”
“Please,” she shook her head, “just… don’t.”
Without another word she turned away from him and started back toward the shore in a series of long, difficult strides through the water. It sloshed loudly against her movements, slicing outward in splashing arcs from her thighs.
Finn just stood there, watching her walk away, and she struggled against herself as she did it. She didn’t look back, though the gods alone knew how badly she wanted to. She’d give anything at that moment to give in to what she was certain would be more than just comforting and safe, but no matter how much she wanted it, the time just wasn’t right.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Finn stood among the rolling waves for a long time after Lorelei walked away. He ignored the pulsing sting of pain throbbing across his chest and down the stiffening length of his arm and listened only to his heart. He felt the underlying rhythm of her heartbeat, all the things it said to him that she refused to voice, and though he was still raging about what happened, about the fact that she’d nearly been killed, or worse, abducted and sold into slavery, he couldn’t help but feeling like the event somehow brought them closer together than they’d ever been.
He could still taste her on his lips, still feel the sudden surging pulse of desire swelling in her when they’d kissed. His own need at the time was almost overpowering, too intense to deny, but he’d let her walk away because he knew his time would come before the end. It was still tight in his groin, his manhood stiff with want for her, even as the cold water was like a splash of reason damping his inner-fire.
Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) Page 18