Finn smiled, holding the small hand in his.
No scratches or bruising, no howling or pain—Oscar had slept through his change back from wolf to baby with only a few squeaks. Finn had seen it all. It had been torture. He’d wanted to hold his son but knew Oscar needed space to shift—like he did. And while Finn felt every shift and grind, pop and snap of his son’s change, Oscar took it like a champ. “You’re strong,” he murmured, smiling into his son’s heavy-lidded eyes.
Oscar stared at him, instantly alert. He opened his mouth and gurgled. His tiny fingers fastened onto Finn’s large finger with a surprisingly sturdy grip.
“That’s right, strong,” Finn said, resting his chin on Jessa’s hip to study his son more closely.
Oscar squealed, his legs kicking out.
Jessa laughed. “Good morning.”
Finn kissed her hip, burying his nose in the soft flannel she wore to draw in the comfort he’d need to face the day. If he had it his way, they’d spend the day like this. Wrapped up in each other, discovering this new family he was bound so fiercely to. But since keeping them safe was the only thing that mattered, staying put wasn’t an option.
“Morning,” he said, his hand sliding underneath the fabric to rest against the skin of her stomach. “You’re so damn soft.”
“You need a shower. Did you roll in the mud?” she asked, turning onto her back and forcing his hand up to cup her breast. “That wasn’t intentional,” she murmured, smiling.
But his fingers were already stroking the hard pebble of her nipple. “No complaints.” He rose onto one elbow, sliding up her side until they were eye-to-eye.
Jessa’s smile faded. “Finn, what happened to you?” Her fingers were feather-light against the gash on his shoulder.
“Malachi,” he answered, holding her hand and kissing her fingertips.
“You need stitches.” She tried to pull her hand away.
He grinned at her, cocking an eyebrow. “No stitches.” He bent, his lips latching onto her collarbone. He probably should have healed before changing back, but his wolf didn’t have fingers and hands, and the urge to touch Jessa had been too great.
“Finn.” Her protest was half-hearted.
His fingers worked her nipple until it was a rigid peak. “Are you feeling better?” Because he was so hard he hurt, aching for her. Her breath hitched, her slight nod all permission he needed to unbutton the shirt and suck the tip deep into his mouth. He groaned.
Oscar started to cry.
Finn slumped, releasing her nipple and staring up at her.
Her cheeks were flushed, that hunger in her green eyes almost making him hand Oscar to Hollis. Or Anders. Or Dante. But Malachi was here.
He pushed off the bed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Are you hungry?” Jessa’s cooed to Oscar, her soft voice washed over him. “Did all that wolf business leave you starving?”
He smiled, she didn’t seem upset about last night, which was a relief. She’d chosen him, but that didn’t mean it would be an easy transition. Watching her scoop up Oscar, her hair spilling over one exposed shoulder, made both his wolf and his heart swell with ownership—and love. He’d never loved like this. Never thought it could exist. Ever. But seeing her with Oscar, watching her smile and laugh filled every missing piece of him with happiness. And it scared the shit out of him. He hadn’t been happy in a long time, and he’d been fine. Good, even. For the first time in years, he had something to lose.
She and Oscar could be taken away from him.
“Jessa.” He stood. “I’m going to get some breakfast started. Come out when he, and you, are dressed.”
“Might take your own advice,” she teased, eyeing his nakedness with open appreciation.
He shook his head. “You’re killing me.” He loved seeing her look at him that way, wanting him the way he wanted her.
“You started it,” she said, the hitch in her voice having an immediate effect on his body. He heard her sharp inhale. “Here,” she said, offering him the medallion.
“I’d like to finish it,” he said, closing the distance between them to kiss her, hard. “But it’ll wait.” He slid on the medallion, tugged on some pajama pants, and left her, not caring that the dirt and blood from the night before still caked his bare skin.
Hollis sprawled in the large chair before the fire, dozing.
Dante gripped a massive cup of coffee, bleary-eyed and brooding.
“Hey,” Anders said, digging through the large refrigerator. “Man, I’m starved.” Finn nodded. The morning after was all about refueling—and sleep. Not that any of them were likely to be getting a lot of sleep for a while.
“Pancakes? Or French Toast?” Anders asked.
“Both,” Dante sounded off.
Anders nodded.
Malachi came in then, rubbing a towel over his shaggy brown hair. “Long as I don’t have to cook it,” he said. He looked at Finn, a mix of anger and hurt and reluctant obedience settling on his features. Then his eyes went wide.
“I’ll cook.” Jessa’s voice. “Can you feed him?” she asked, holding Oscar toward Finn.
He took his son, but his gaze never left Mal.
Mal was staring at Oscar, studying him. Finn saw the sadness, the slight tightening around Mal’s eyes, heard the harsh clearing of his throat. But when he looked at Finn, his smile finally reached his eyes. “He’s a good-looking boy.” He moved closer, stooping to look at Oscar.
Oscar stared up at Mal, all blue eyes and curiosity.
“I don’t mind cooking,” Anders said.
“Neither do I,” Jessa argued. “And I don’t particularly like being useless.”
Anders snorted. “The kitchen is yours.”
She laughed, the sound putting an instant smile on Finn’s face.
Mal’s blatant interest in Finn’s reaction was hard to miss. His brow cocked before he turned his attention to Jessa. “You must be Mrs. Alpha?” It was a head-to-toe inspection, the kind that Finn barely tolerated. When he was done, he nodded, glancing back at Finn.
Jessa looked at Mal, her smile dimming as she glanced between them. “Malachi?” She held her hand out. “Jessa Talbot.”
“Mrs. Alpha,” Anders said, sitting on one of the bar stools.
Finn watched color stain Jessa’s cheek. Her green gaze met his, the warmth waiting for him drawing him close. “Suits me,” he murmured.
Hollis stumbled into the kitchen then. “I smell coffee.” Jessa poured him a cup, putting it into Hollis’s hands before he knew it. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He looked weak, obviously the sickness took far longer to recover from than the change. “What’s the plan? Who’s taking Oscar? And Jessa? What did I miss?”
Finn glared at Hollis. It would be nice to make it through breakfast before talk of the Others and reinforcements came into play.
“You’ve got to get them out of here, Finn,” Anders said. “Last night was hard on us all.”
Jessa paused mid-stir. “What happened last night? I thought it was safe?”
Finn nodded. “It is, for now.”
“The Others caught a scent trail,” Dante explained, still staring into his coffee. “Won’t take them long to find us.”
“We can’t keep running.” Mal’s anger was evident. “I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of always being on the move, looking over my shoulder.”
Finn watched Jessa’s reaction. She frowned, mixing the pancake batter with renewed vigor.
“I won’t put them in harm’s way.” Finn kept his voice low, but the threat was real. “I know you want to fight, Mal, but I won’t risk Oscar and Jessa.”
“So we wait?” Mal glanced at Oscar. “Until they get him—”
“They won’t.” Jessa set the bowl on the counter and took Oscar from his arms.
Finn stepped closer, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. “They won’t,” he said against her ear.
Mal held his hands up. “You can’t b
e serious?”
“Jesus, Mal, enough,” Dante snapped.
“You think sparing her the truth will change it? Cara? Phillip and Annie? Brown’s family?” His rage was barely in check. “Mine?”
“So the plan is to scare the shit out of her?” Anders asked.
“She should be scared,” Mal argued. “But we shouldn’t be. We’re stronger than they are. We can take them down—one by one if we have to. This waiting for them has to fucking stop.”
“Enough.” The word tore from Finn’s lips, more growled than spoken.
Silence.
But Mal’s words hung there, choking Finn. They would come for Oscar. Or Jessa. Could he expect them to keep running? That was no life for any of them. He stared at her, wanting to run, to hide her away someplace safe. What was safe? Where could he take them that the Others wouldn’t eventually find?
Jessa bounced Oscar in her arms, her green eyes seeking his as she crossed the room to sit before the fire. Oscar’s fist tangled in her hair, pulling her focus back to his son. While his heart thundered in his chest, her graceful movements revealed none of her fear. She was brave but fragile—in need of protection. His protection. And his pack.
The wolf wanted to fight, to stand their ground. But he’d spent too much time avoiding his wolf and the instincts that drove him. Turning that off would be a challenge. His hand slid up, grasping the silver medallion he’d worn for almost ten years. It had been his compass, warning him when he teetered too close to his wild side. If he was going forward with this, entertaining Mal’s idea, he had no business wearing it.
He paced the room, glaring at Mal, looking to Dante and Anders for some insight. How did they feel? He was their alpha, but this was too big a decision to make on his own.
Hollis carried a newly made bottle to Jessa, offering it to her without a sound.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at Hollis.
Finn studied her, the curve of her smile as she lay Oscar on her knees, speaking to him in a soft, adoring tone. Nothing could happen to them—he had to make sure of that. “How many?” Finn asked.
“Small group.” Mal shrugged. “Cyrus wasn’t with them.”
That was good. “How long?” Finn asked.
Mal looked at him “Maybe two days.”
“Small group?” Dante asked, his interest piqued.
“Maybe eight,” Mal said.
“Hell, we can take eight,” Anders said, snorting and taking over breakfast. “That’s nothing.”
Jessa glanced at him then back at Oscar.
“What about them?” Hollis asked. “Mal is right. Their presence causes a definite disadvantage.”
Finn paced again, his heart twisting at the options that spun in his mind.
“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, they can’t be together,” Dante said.
Anders nodded. “Talk about a clear target.”
Finn nodded. No matter which way he went, he wasn’t happy. The thought of taking Oscar from Jessa was a punch to the gut. He was her baby, Finn knew that. But what choice did he have? Even though the dumb shit had brought trouble to his door, Mal was right. No more running. The whole intimidation tactic had to end, here and now. “I’ll call Brown. He can take Jessa.” He didn’t look at her, couldn’t look at her. “Hollis, your moon-sickness over? You’ll take Oscar. The rest of us will wait for the Others here,” Finn said, staring around the room at the men he considered his family.
“’Bout damn time,” Mal said, rubbing his hands together.
Finn didn’t deny the flare of anticipation that set the hairs on the back of his neck straight.
“Excuse me,” Jessa said, handing Oscar to Hollis and leaving the room.
He followed, pushing the bedroom door closed behind him.
She stared at him, hurt and angry—and silent.
“Be mad at me after you’re gone,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Right now, I need you.” His lips latched onto her neck, his hands stripping the clothes from her body. When he was buried deep inside her, he felt better. This separation was temporary. And it was for the best. He took his time making love to her, his fingers and hands and mouth driving her wild. He studied her reactions, her sounds, the bowing of her body. Whatever it took, he would protect this—he would protect her.
His wolf knew how to kill. It was in his blood. Finn would murder every last one of them so that, maybe, he’d never have to do it again.
Chapter Twelve
Jessa stared at the starless sky, toying with Finn’s medallion around her neck. She stood by the large window of the motel Brown had found for them on the San Francisco Bay, unable to enjoy the view. They hadn’t heard from Finn in five days. She’d seen Oscar via Facetime and Skype, but she ached to hold him in her arms. Not to mention her brothers. Harry was getting suspicious, but she’d done her best to make it sound like they’d extended their holiday—not gone into hiding. She missed them, missed home, so much.
“Got you some dinner, Miss Talbot.” Brown placed a wrapped sandwich on the table. “You need to eat something, ma’am.”
She unwrapped the paper and nibbled on the bread.
“I’ll be next door,” Brown said.
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He left, closing the door to the adjoining room softly. It was unlocked, in case she needed him. But what could one man do against a werewolf? She’d asked him, and the answer hadn’t been reassuring.
“They don’t go down easily,” Brown had said. “You have to shoot them straight in the heart. Or in the head. But I’ve had bullets bounce off their skulls.”
“Thick-headed,” she’d murmured. “What about the whole silver thing?”
He nodded. “It works, but you still need to be a crack-shot. If you don’t get the brain or heart, you’re just pissing them off. Silver makes them sick and it prevents them from being able to change into a wolf, so it can be useful.” He seemed to realize he might have shared too much information and offered her his pistol. “This would be too big for you, too much kick. But Mr. Dean should get you outfitted—and trained—just in case.”
She’d never been one to read high-concept fiction or watch supernatural movies. Life was life—there was enough conflict without adding things that didn’t exist. But now she wished she’d paid more attention. The few movies she’d managed to watch in her hotel room had been horrible. For one thing, the werewolf was always some crazed monster bent on murdering and disemboweling people. For another, no one survived.
Each night, she cried herself to sleep and tried to forget what Finn might be up against, and how much she missed Oscar. If separating them would make him safer, slow down the Others, Jessa wasn’t about to argue. His safety came first.
It was reassuring to see how Oscar took to Hollis. Hollis’s calm nature probably had something to do with it. She had no idea where they were, but she knew he was safe and well cared for. And that, for now, was enough. It had to be.
The last few days they’d flown in a strange series of loops and layovers before renting a car and traveling through San Francisco, north to Mendocino, a bustling wine and arts community. Brown had checked them into a small motel on the outskirts of town. She had a view of the bay and not much else. Instead of being caught up in the beauty of her surroundings, she was lonely and worried.
She’d skimmed a novel and watched the news, but she was too wide awake to consider sleeping. A long shower helped, even if the hot water had run out. She brushed out her hair and slipped into the shirt she’d stolen from Finn. She wrapped her arms around herself and buried her nose against the sleeve, but it didn’t smell like Finn anymore.
She paced the room, so restless she wanted to scream. She slid the balcony door open, knowing she was breaking Brown’s rules and not caring. She needed fresh air. She needed to stop feeling so damn trapped. She stood, sucking cold air deep into her lungs, fighting back frustrated tears.
“Jessa?”
She froze
, peering into the dark below her. In that instant, she felt pure terror. Her fingers tightened around the bannister before she pushed off, stepping into the shadows and hoping she hadn’t just sentenced both herself and Brown to a painful death.
“Jessa?”
She knew that voice and responded to it instantly. “Finn?”
He was moving toward the door. She spun and went inside, running to meet him.
He met her on the stairwell, shoving her against the wall as his mouth found hers. She gripped his hair, tugging him close, devouring his kiss, his mouth, his tongue. She swayed into him, but he caught her. “You’re safe. Oscar is safe,” he whispered against her lips.
She lost herself in the feel of his hands and mouth, his taste and smell. Her head fell back as he nipped her neck, dropping hot, wet kisses all the way to her ear. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, his teeth making her shudder. He inhaled, the groan that tore from deep in his throat making her tighten with want.
He gripped her hips, lifting her off her feet to carry her inside. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on to him. He carried her up the stairs. When they stumbled into her room, he kicked the door shut and pressed her against thick wood, his lips merciless and hungry. She wanted more—all of him. She needed him.
Her hands slid between them, unfastening his pants and pushing them open.
“Wait,” he said, pulling a condom from his pocket, tearing the packet, and rolling it on. He kissed her, pinning her to the door with his arms as he thrust into her.
The noise he made. The look on his face—raw, desperate, vulnerable. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart tripped over itself and her lungs constricted. She watched the muscle in his jaw bulge, his nostrils flare, watched the heat in his eyes as they bored into hers. As he bored into her.
“I missed you,” she whispered, turning into his kiss. “Oh, God, Finn.”
His hold tightened, almost bruising. His hands eased, but the yearning in his eyes told her the truth. He needed her touch just as much as she needed his. She arched into him, moaning as he slid deep.
“Jessa,” he ground out, crushing her against his chest and spinning them.
Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Page 13