He shrugged. It was a bit cramped, a bit cavernous. Probably didn’t stir any good memories and could be the reason he wasn’t in a talkative mood, but Ella had questions.
“The shower is the best part.” She grinned as he turned around, his eyes narrowing. “Come on.”
They’d barely entered the bathroom when Finn pushed her up against the wall and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her long and hard, and he tasted damn good. His muscled chest pressed against her, heaving with each breath, and her hands wandered down his hips, tugging him closer.
Dimly she recalled dragging him to the bathroom for a reason but couldn’t quite recall it now.
His hands traveled up her arms, and he pulled back to undress her, pulling off her sweater, her blouse, struggling to free the clasp of her bra. She couldn’t help because she was fighting with his polo shirt, then his belt, pushing his pants down, needing to feel every inch of his skin.
He nuzzled her neck, then drew back an inch and gently peeled off the bandage covering the wound. She touched the cut with her fingertips and found it had scabbed over already.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice rough. “You’re fine.”
She kissed him again, then, as if saying yes. Yes, I’m fine, I’m here.
Finn turned and guided her toward the shower stall. Because they had to do something... that’s right, talk. God, he was so beautiful, his body gleaming like white marble, every muscle defined and firm, and that six-pack was begging to be kissed and licked and...
The water turned on and Finn tugged her into the stall. The warm cascade washed over them as he wrapped his arms around her. The mark on his shoulder seemed to glow, and his hair shimmered faintly, like stardust.
“You wanted to talk,” he whispered in her ear, and god, how was a girl to concentrate when the evidence of his excitement pressed firm and hot against her belly?
How the hell were they going to talk like that? Maybe they should try it again when dressed, or with cold water running, or—
Finn kissed her neck, the solid wall of his body pushing her back against the stall tiles, his thigh pressing between her legs — dammit, was he doing this on purpose?
“About the Fire giants,” she gasped, sparks of pleasure rushing up her spine. “The Ettin.”
“Mmm.”
“You said a spell broke.” Come on, focus. “Was it the spell that kept their world closed off?”
“I think so.”
“And does that mean the others will break free, too?”
“Others?”
“You said there’s an embargo on the Vanir and the Joettnar, too.”
Finn kept kissing her neck, his hand stroking her collarbone, then dipping lower to cup her breast.
Jesus. She arched in his touch, losing her train of thought, reaching down for him, needing him.
“If they break free,” Finn muttered, “then...” His voice broke on a moan and he moved against her, his hips rocking.
“Then what?”
“Then...” He slammed his hand into the wall, cracking a tile. His eyes were glazed. “Then we know the Weaver has returned.”
Ominous, she thought, vaguely aware she should be alarmed and afraid as they stumbled into the bedroom, kissing and stroking and touching. Christ, there was a creature able to either imprison or free whole worlds.
Finn pushed her down on the mattress and climbed after her, his skin glowing, his eyes dark with need. He fumbled with a condom and she knew she should be asking if John Grey was stronger than this Weaver, what else was known about him, how to handle the fact that the Veil was ripping again, and if that meant the Gates would open — but Finn leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head.
His lips were soft against hers, his body aroused and hot, hard and insistent — and her last vestiges of coherent thought melted away.
***
They ate take-out sushi from Ella’s favorite place, Sushi-mama. They’d grabbed it on their way out of town because Finn had said he’d never tried any.
He didn’t seem fazed by the fact the fish was raw. Raw meat was apparently normal fare for him. He’d been fascinated by the wasabi and the soy sauce, and had ignored the chopsticks, going in with his hands, dipping the rolls and then trying to feed Ella.
It had been a mess. By the end of it, they’d both had soy sauce splashed on their clothes. She’d never heard him laugh so delightedly.
Outside the sea groaned and the wind picked up. Evening would fall soon and she wanted to show Finn something.
“Come.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the porch. “Let’s walk down the beach.”
His brows drew together even as he obediently followed, his combat boots crunching on the sand and pebbles, shattering sand dollars and fragile shells. The waves came and went, crashing and whispering.
“All this...” He let out a breath. “So much water.”
“It’s the sea,” she said, not stopping, pulling him toward her favorite place. “The ocean. Don’t you have one in your world?”
The wind whistled in her ears and his hand was warm in hers. She glanced back at him. He had a strange expression on his face.
“We have frozen seas,” he said. “White snow deserts. Nothing moves there.”
She imagined Aelfheim to be like the Arctic: icebergs, miles of ice and snow, polar bears, polar foxes, polar rabbits...
She wasn’t entirely sure about this last one, but who cared. Polar mice, too. They'd be cute.
A trail wound up on the rocks over the sea and her feet knew the way. They climbed up over the cliffs and then back down to an old water exit. The stone formed a seat there, a throne with space for two. She sat and waited for Finn to do the same, lowering his bad leg first.
They sat in silence as the ocean growled and muttered below their feet, water splashing and white foam licking the black rocks. A seagull flew overhead, circling. The wind whined through the cracks in the stone like a badass mosquito.
“I used to come here with my parents when I was little,” Ella whispered. The place always robbed her of breath. “Isn’t it awesome?”
He nodded, his arm snaking around her waist, pulling her close. She clutched his sweater, inhaled his musky scent, and thought she felt happy — in spite of the danger, the mess, the chaos. She’d never been happier than sitting on that rock over the waves with Finn’s arm around her.
“Finn...” She closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth of his body, rubbing her cheek on the rough fabric. “How did you know how the poison of the Ettin worked?”
She heard his breath hitch. Frowning, she drew back.
“I don’t...” His eyes were wide, staring at nothing. “The poison paralyzes you, but you can still feel everything. Pain, pleasure... Everything. I know this, but I don’t know how.”
The cozy moment was over. They had to talk and the sound of the wind would cover their voices. “Did they inject that into your veins in that cave where Asmodr was? When you hung over that table?” She shivered. “Despite the pain, you couldn’t move. I thought it was the restraints, but I—”
“Can’t remember.” He scrambled up, hanging onto the rock as his knee buckled, and started to climb up the rock face.
“Finn, wait, dammit.” She hurried after him, feeling like a thug. “I’m sorry.” She wanted to rewind time and let him be happy again. How could her timing suck so badly? “Finn!”
She scaled the jagged rocks, climbing onto the platform, trying to see him — and stopped in her tracks, one booted foot resting in a hollow.
An enormous shadow blotted out the cloudy sky, growing larger and larger. It landed with a deep boom, shaking the rocky platform. Opalescent feathers, gleaming in the yellow pre-storm light, a crest of polished bone, wings spread wide. Smoke swirled from flared nostrils and the cavernous mouth opened, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth.
Her dragon.
Finn’s dragon.
Holy shit. What was the creature doi
ng there?
Then she saw Finn. He hurried toward the dragon who’d laid her head down, the only thing giving him away his dark sweater; his pale skin and hair blending perfectly with the white scales.
Fucking hell, the dragon was there, with them, on the rocks above the waves.
“What’s she doing here?” Ella snapped. She hoped she didn’t sound jealous or anything.
Finn glanced at her over his shoulder. Jesus Christ, he had a hand resting on the huge snout, right next to those razor-sharp, sword-like teeth.
“Come,” he said. “Would you like to meet her?”
Meet her? Oh god. Was that going to be Finn’s pet? Cuddle on their bed at night? Rub against their feet?
Ella realized she felt dizzy. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Being close to the dragon, touching its snout, inviting me to become friends with her... The whole package was madness.
“She needs to get used to you,” Finn said.
She’s hungry and needs a snack, you mean. “I’m not coming any closer. You can’t make me.”
He shot her a smile and her resolve to stay back melted away.
Damn.
She stalked carefully over the rocks, the dragon towering higher and higher as she approached. Even crouching low it was a mountain of snowy flesh and feathers.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Ella tried to think of more protectors she could appeal to.
Then the dragon lifted her head and Ella’s knees trembled. Okay, nerves of steel, nerves of steel. You can do this, secret agent Benson.
The dragon’s talons scraped the rocks, leaving white grooves in the black surface. From so close, the scales looked transparent, as if made of crystal, and the horns on her head rose like the rays of a sun.
“She’s a friend,” Finn muttered, patting the dragon’s neck as if it were a horse or a dog.
Yeah, get the creature in your lap to scratch behind her ears and we’ll see how you like it.
The wind was rising around them, howling in the crevices of the rocks. Ella took another step, which brought her next to one clawed paw, and boy was that a frigging bad idea. One swipe and she’d be history, dashed over the rocks, if not dismembered.
Finn murmured something, lost in the moaning of the wind, and the dragon lowered her head, laying it down. It stretched like a small car in front of Ella, its yellow eye a window set in the scaly wall, regarding her.
“What do I do?” Ella hissed, her heart trying to pound its way through her chest. “Should I have brought carrots? Chocolates? A goat?”
“Put your hand here, let her feel you.”
“You mean, smell me?” Like dogs did?
“Like this.” Finn again placed his hand on the dragon’s muzzle. “She can feel.”
Yeah, okay. Whatever. Ella swallowed hard and put her hand next to Finn’s. The dragon’s flesh was warm and rough, the scales moving under her palm with tiny clicks. Like a giant iguana, Ella thought, except for the wings, the horns, the frigging size and the smoke coming out of the nostrils.
Not to forget the way those eyes looked at her, narrowing and widening, as if the dragon could read Ella’s thoughts and found them amusing.
“How intelligent is she?” Ella leaned closer to Finn and fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. “Can she... I don’t know, talk?”
“She can feel.”
Again with that. “Feel what exactly?”
Finn touched two fingers to his brow. “The magic in you. Your connection to me.”
“Oh right. I...” She gulped when something flashed in her mind, an image but not quite. Blurry like an old memory, stinging with sorrow and singing with joy, a song but without sound, a reel but without form...
It was gone.
“What was that? Shit, Finn, did you...?”
“She says hi.” Finn’s smile turned into a wide grin.
Very funny. Okay, okay. Not freaky at all. “Did you know she’d be here?”
“I wanted her to meet you.”
Ella stared at her hand, still held against the dragon’s hide, and caught the yellow gaze above. “You told her to come here,” she said, her voice barely making it past her throat. “You communicate with her.”
Finn turned his face away, hiding it in the dragon’s neck. He nodded. “I’m her rider.”
***
The beach house kitchenette was barely bigger than a closet, but it had an electric cooker, and a small window brought in the salty scent of the sea and showed an expanse of dark night sky.
“Making salad again?” Finn’s voice rumbled in her ear, scaring the holy shit out of her.
“Salad’s good for you,” she said automatically, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh. This was like a deja vu. His scent filled her senses and his body was warm against her back. “But in fact I’m attempting a dessert.” She winked at him over her shoulder. “Pancakes.”
Oh god. He wore a sleeveless white shirt that stretched over his broad chest like second skin, outlining every taut muscle. Was it suddenly too hot inside the kitchenette? She glanced at the electric cooker. Huh. She’d have sworn it was on.
Finn cocked his head to the side, as if parsing her words. “Pancakes.”
Jesus, the way he said it, low and dark... Like an alcohol shot straight to the brain. Desire spiraled down her body, expanding into a storm-front of fire.
Enough of cooking. She’d punish Finn for interrupting her by pressing him up against the wall for a security pat-down.
But just when she decided to go through with her plan, Finn turned around and left, leaving her to stare at his cute ass as it disappear through the door.
What the hell?
Right, he was leaving her to finish her cooking. Cooking was important in Finn’s book. Food was important.
Getting Finn naked was infinitely more important, though, and besides, she was so distracted she’d probably burn the house down if she continued.
She stalked into the open living-room, expecting to find Finn in the midst of his exercises — a habit he wasn’t likely to break because of a mere excursion to the beach. He followed his routines religiously every morning — often before the break of dawn, though that was most probably due to the nightmares. She loved watching him as he moved gracefully, sliding from position to position.
Talking of positions... She almost growled at the images the word conjured.
Then she stopped in her tracks.
Finn stood by the French windows, rubbing at his chest. His head came up when she approached, his pupils so dilated his eyes looked black. He seemed lost in memory, not all there.
Ella walked up to him and wound her arms around his neck. “You left in a hurry.”
He looked down at her, his gaze heating. He kissed her then, a soft nip at first, then slow, deep, cupping her face in his hands. His breathing changed, quickening, and he pressed against her, all hard lines and satiny skin.
She pulled back, her breath locked inside her lungs. She wanted him with a fierceness that almost stopped her heart. She wanted to mark him, brand him, keep him. Yeah, keep him always with her, to make sure of his wide smile, the sounds of pleasure he’d make, the light of glad surprise in his eyes.
She nudged him backward until he fell on the sofa, his eyes glittering, dark with desire. She’d always followed his lead in their lovemaking, had felt he needed to take control at least in this one aspect in his life. Had delighted in watching him explore, in his touch, gentle and tentative, his great strength tightly restrained. She could feel it now, coiled in his muscled arms that lay deceptively lax on the cushions.
“Let me,” she whispered, bending over him, sliding her hands under his t-shirt, mapping the shifting muscles of his stomach, his ribs, the raised scar running from his heart to his navel.
His eyes shone, filled with trust.
Hers, he was hers, and she’d make sure he could forget his memories, his nightmares and the world for one night.
Chapter Six
Broken<
br />
Ella slept badly, flashes of frozen plains and huge, tower-like vehicles invading her dreams. Villages with colorful fences streamed by, as if she was flying, shooting through the air, and a sense of dread overlay everything like a foul smell.
Smell of spilled blood and acrid sweat, a clamor of frightened voices, a wail carried on the wind.
This was Finn’s world, Finn’s memory. Where was he?
Whispers swirled on the air like snowflakes, threats and curses. ‘You’d better hurry, accursed boy. You’re not free of us.’
She slowed, her feet landing, sinking in soft snow, trying to listen.
‘If you don’t obey, you’ll find yourself back in your bonds.’
She took a few steps in the snow. “Hello? Who’s there?”
No reply.
An immense structure jutted out of the plain to her left. A mountain? A rock pinnacle? It had been carved into the shape of a figure, a gigantic statue staring over the snow-covered expanse.
Someone was walking toward it, a faint, pale silhouette, moving like a ghost across the snow-covered ground. Light flashed on a set of broad shoulders and long, silver hair.
Ella started after him before she even knew what she was doing. “Finn, wait!”
What was that place and why was he heading there? It had a sinister air about it and she glanced again at the narrow face carved in the rock, the eyes that gazed impassively over the plain.
A watch tower, she thought, trudging in the snow. A look-out of the Light Elves, because the caves were nearby, the entrances to the world under. Finn was returning to base, returning...
... because he’d been set free from the Dark Elves’ clutches, from the Aesir Commander’s torture chamber. For what?
The figure came to a stop, staring up at the carved face. She started to run, trying to catch up before he set off again, and as he half-turned, she saw his face. It was Finn alright, his face skeletal thin, drawn in a grimace.
Something long, like a metal tube, glinted in his hand. A gun?
Finn’s hand jerked as if against his will, and the tube fell. He took a step back, arms wind-milling, and almost lost his balance.
Boreal and John Grey Season 2 Page 13