by Abigail Owen
Finn clamped down on the urge to check the time again and fiddled with the controls, refusing to acknowledge that the reason time had slowed had more to do with a certain gray-eyed siren than it did with the clocks or even his need to hear from Fallon. Or the fact that his effort to put distance between himself and Delaney, while effective—at least until the mishap this morning which he was still trying to recover from—was dragging at him. Frustrating him, like a scab he couldn’t pick.
The fact that he wanted to be around her meant that he should keep to his plan of avoiding her, having the team ensure her safety, while he concentrated on investigating her situation. More than any other women he’d met before now, the specter of his dead almost-mate hung over every moment with Delaney.
Unfortunately, this Graff thing had stalled like a car out of gas, layering onto his frustration. His efforts, both via human channels and among dragon-kind, had turned up diddly-squat, and the man hadn’t made another move.
Smart. Allowing his prey to become complacent. Finn had zero intention of falling into that trap.
The soft snick of the door alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. “Damn, son. How long have you been in here? You look like shit.”
Finn froze at the sound of Deep’s thick accent, coming from directly behind him. He spun in his chair to find the man standing just inside the room.
He scowled. “What are you doing here?”
Bushy white eyebrows drew down over eyes that blazed red for a moment. “Levi called me.”
“Fuck,” Finn muttered under his breath. Not that he really blamed his Beta.
“I’m glad he did. Look at you. Have you slept?”
He didn’t need Deep’s habit of seeing too much right now. “I wasn’t tired, so I took two shifts last night. We’re all working overtime.”
It was a flimsy excuse, even to his own ears. With Delaney in the house—her sunshine scent marking every room now, her sweet laugh taunting him, the fact that she slept in the same room torturing him—Finn wasn’t sleeping. Instead, he filled the time checking the house, checking the grounds, searching for any signs of Graff, trying to nail down who the other man was and how he was managing to get so close without a trace.
And coming up empty-handed.
Deep paused, studying Finn’s face. “Bullshit.”
Finn spun back to the controls. A glance at the clock told him that the call with Fallon wasn’t for another ten minutes. Not a good enough excuse to walk out.
“I said bullshit,” Deep snapped.
“I heard you,” Finn growled.
“I don’t think you did. Your head is buried so far up your ass, you can’t smell the shit you’re stepping in.” Deep snagged the chair next to Finn’s and sat, elbows on his knees, giving Finn a hard stare. “This woman you’ve brought here to protect—”
“Delaney.” Her name punched from him.
Deep cocked his head. “A human.”
He didn’t need to say more. The rebuke in his voice said it all. “A dragon shifter is after her.”
“So go after the dragon, but the human is not your concern.”
“I can’t leave her unprotected,” Finn gritted through clenched teeth.
“Because you want her.”
Finn tipped his head back and looked to the ceiling, not that he’d find answers or peace there. No use denying it. Not to Deep. “Yes.”
He lowered his head to find Deep scowling at him. “Then why the hell are you torturing yourself, not to mention jumping all over your men? Sleep with her already and get it out of your system.”
Finn’s teeth ached as he clenched his jaw. “I can’t.”
Deep kicked his foot for that. “Don’t be a stubborn idiot. I’ve never seen you like this, and I’ve only been here ten minutes. Levi says you are in a foul mood. They’re all avoiding you. I know you haven’t gone for many women since Phoebe, but—”
“I see Phoebe die every time I take a woman to bed.”
Deep straightened, shock ramming his spine straight. He ran a hand over his jaw as he considered Finn. “How long?”
“Ever since she died. Every single time.” And the worst part was, the missing piece of him that had died with her meant he felt the agony of that loss, the guilt of it, like it just happened, forcing him to turn off his emotions. Turn cold and hard. What kind of monster did that make him?
Deep blew out a long breath and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah.”
They both sat in contemplative silence for a while. Finn stared at the wall.
“Did any of those other women get to you even half as much as this Delaney woman?” Deep asked.
Finn frowned, slowly pivoting his chair to face his friend. He shook his head.
“Then I think you should give it a chance.”
“She’s not even a mate. I would want…more than a night. I can’t do that to a human, hold all our secrets from her while we share a bed, our lives—” Finn shook his head.
“What if she gets you past this PTSD thing with Phoebe? Which I’m sure is what’s happening to you.”
Finn’s body went rigid at the question. One he’d never considered. He’d assumed this had to do with the cosmic punishment for killing a mate.
Deep leaned forward, pushing his point. “What if that clears the way for your destined mate?”
“I…can’t let myself think like that.” Finn ran a shaky hand through his hair. “And I would never use her like that.”
“If she wants you as much as you want her, it’s not using her.”
Finn didn’t like that logic, so he said nothing.
“I never took you for a coward.”
Finn scowled. “If you saw Calla die every time you tried to sleep with another woman, would you want to put yourself through that again?”
Deep paused, then whistled low. “I can see how that would mess with you. But you can’t just give up, either. Calla is my mate. Knowing how life altering that bond is, I’d hate to see you miss your shot because of fear. And we need good enforcers, good leaders, like you. Losing you early because you didn’t find your mate would hurt your clan and your team.”
Finn dropped his head into his hands. “Yeah. I just don’t…”
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “Think about it at least.” He squeezed Finn’s shoulder. “I can’t stay. Calla’s home alone. I just came out to see what was going on.”
Finn stood and held out a hand to shake. “Thanks, Deep.”
“I may be an old, mated dragon, but I still remember my life before Calla. This human isn’t a mate, but if she can clear the path to yours, or the next woman you connect with can, it’s worth the risk.”
Finn nodded, but he didn’t believe it. Sometimes pain outweighed hope. At least he found peace in the numbness. “Wait a minute. I’ll walk you out.”
He pulled up the intercom and in minutes had Kanta watching the situation Hall and Titus were headed out to.
Upstairs, he stood back as his men greeted Deep with warm handshakes. Levi stood back as well, obviously not sure how Finn would take his calling their friend in.
Finn scooted over to him. “Asshole.” But the word held no sting.
Levi snorted a laugh. “No. You’ve owned that title lately.”
Crossing his arms, Finn gave his friend a hard look. “You were right to tell him. It’s a situation that might involve him if any fires are involved.” That’s the most he was willing to admit.
Levi’s shoulders dropped a hair. “Yeah.”
Deep moved out to the yard and shifted. Even toward the end of the two-thousand years a mated dragon could live, he was still impressive in dragon form. Imposingly huge, especially for a red dragon, with scales so red they reminded Finn of gushing blood, especially when Deep moved and his scales rippled. With a whoosh of wings, he pushed off, flying home to his mate.
Finn pulled out his phone. Finally. Time for his call.
“You c
alling Fallon?” Levi asked before he disappeared down the hall.
Finn didn’t even pause, tossing a “yeah” over his shoulder.
But he should’ve known they wouldn’t take the hint. Instead the pitter-patter of curious feet followed him into the office. Before he could even turn on the computer, he was shoved to the back of the room, and Levi turned it on and dialed.
Finn leaned back against the wall, not bothering to protest. While Fallon was his brother by blood, he was a brother to all these men by something that went deeper—a bond forged in hard-won victories and the day-to-day of living together for centuries.
Sometimes, family was what you made it. Especially when you lived as long as dragon shifters did.
“He doesn’t need to know about Delaney,” he warned.
Every man turned to look at him, a question in their gazes.
“He’s got enough to deal with. We’ll fill him in when he gets back.”
Levi was the first to agree. “Got it.”
Fallon’s face popped up on the screen, but he paused with his mouth open when he discovered not Finn but most of the team.
“Hey guys,” Fallon said. “How’re things without me there to keep you all in line?”
A round of protests and good-natured ribbing passed through the room, mostly about how Fallon was as far from the one to keep them in line as anyone, given his penchant for pranks.
Levi, sitting in the rolling chair, shoved his face closer. “So, how’s the mate thing going, kid? Did she run away screaming when she saw your ugly mug?”
Fallon grinned. “You’re getting me mixed up with Drake. He’s the frowner.”
Drake leaned against the back wall beside Finn in what was probably supposed to be an intimidating silence. He covered his mouth while he yawned, despite his eyes giving off a faint reddish glow, usually an indicator of irritation. His actions only made the group laugh. They were all used to ignoring Drake’s silent, unsmiling presence.
“All right you lot, clear out.” Finn forced his way through the bodies, pulling Levi out of the chair by his arm and shooing them out of the room.
“Good luck, kid,” Levi called over Finn’s shoulder.
Fallon lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Once the team was gone, the door closed behind them, Finn took a seat in front of the computer. “How’s it going?”
Fallon made a face. “The waiting sucks.”
Finn’s mouth kicked up in a half smile. “I remember.” And for the first time, the memory didn’t sting as much. He’d blocked out the days before Phoebe’s death, forgetting the anticipation and the agony. “I hated knowing Phoebe was spending time with another man.”
“I had my time with her yesterday. Waiting all day today has been…” Fallon ran a hand round the back of his neck.
Finn remembered those few days of torture. Over a short period of time, a potential dragon mate would spend time with the man or men the Mating Council’s Seer had identified as most likely to be hers. They’d get to know each other through a series of interactions, for lack of a better word—the Council’s method of trying to make sure mates found each other based on instinct. Prescribed instinct, but it had been working for centuries, nonetheless. Mostly.
The process was nothing short of awful. Even if you thought you’d found the woman fate had chosen to walk beside you in what was an otherwise lonely life, she still had to entertain the other men. Sucked to wait through that. Wondering.
“She came here assuming Cole is supposed to be her mate,” Fallon said. “How do I fight that?”
Finn glanced away as the memory of Phoebe’s screams replaced those of the time before. He didn’t want to be talking about this. Remembering any of this, preferring the solace of the cold darkness he could draw into instead. But Fallon was his kin, his blood. Granted, in some distant way, so was Cole, or he wouldn’t be considered for Maddie. But Fallon was who Finn cared about here. “I’m not the best person to tell you. I trusted the process, was so sure Phoebe was it for me.”
“So, no advice?” Fallon asked.
“At this point?” Finn fought with the need to protect his brother from the same fate he’d suffered, and the desire to help him win the woman he wanted. Desire won out. His brother had a small window. The next step in the process involved Maddie making a decision.
“You get one last chance to address her before the drawing tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
“Beg.”
“Beg?” Fallon grimaced and shook his head.
Finn raised a single eyebrow. “If you’re that sure she’s yours, do you want her to die if she chooses wrong?”
Only the second he said it, he knew those words would eat at him, would rattle around in the otherwise empty corners of his mind, plaguing him with every wrong feeling he’d been having in relation to the woman staying with them.
Delaney.
He wanted her. What if Deep was right?
Fuck.
Chapter Twelve
“What’s for dinner tonight?” Kanta glanced up from a book on Aristotle to ask as Delaney and Drake walked in the back door. Most of the guys were already in the kitchen. Finn was missing, as usual, and Rivin and Keighan were at Sera’s for the night. The poor woman was probably being propositioned for a threesome right now.
The eager light in Kanta’s moss green eyes had Delaney smiling. It hadn’t escaped her that all of the guys had unusual eyes, especially when she considered some of their coloring combinations. Kanta was no exception and downright striking. His eyes, more deep, pine needle–green as opposed to Hall’s lime color, glowed in their contrast to his ebony skin. Like looking at a serene yet mighty forest.
Which brought up another point. Every single man in this house landed in the “surface of the sun” category on the hotness-o-meter. It was…weird.
She wanted to ask, point it out, but fear of adding to her crazy had held her back. Instead, she’d logged that under the “everything is weird in my life right now” section she’d compartmentalized in her mind. Too many questions and not enough answers, and if she kept asking them, she might go mad. Better to concentrate on the bigger issues.
“Who says I’m cooking?” she teased.
That was another thing. They appreciated her. Her cooking was fairly basic since she’d taught herself, but apparently better than any of theirs.
“You aren’t?” Kanta’s shoulders slumped. How the strapping firefighter managed to appear tragically crestfallen was beyond her, but it had her laughing.
“Okay. I’ll—” She turned and came nose to chest with a wall of man.
She grunted as recognition lit a now irritatingly familiar heat inside her. Delaney refused to back up, instead raising her chin to meet his gaze. “Finn.”
She expected him to back up, maybe mumble an excuse to leave and walk away. He didn’t.
Instead his lips kicked up, eyes lighting with that penetrating stare, only he didn’t shut down and didn’t look away. “Delaney,” he mimicked in a grave tone.
He didn’t say more. He also didn’t move, other than his gaze, which ran over her face almost as though he were memorizing her features.
Delaney shifted on her feet, then glanced around him. Where’d everyone else go? And how’d they leave without her noticing? Her tension ratcheted up another notch. “I’d…better go get dinner started.”
She went to move around him, only to have her wrist snagged in his hand, pulling her to a stop. “Not yet. I want to talk to you.”
Before she could blink, he tugged her outside, the chill of the air skating over her skin and adding to the shivers his unexpected actions and touch were triggering. He didn’t stop until he’d moved them around the side of the building, under the small awning that shaded the front. For privacy?
“What did I do?” she asked.
“Nothing bad.” He pivoted to face her, not letting go of her wrist.
She debated tugging out of his grasp but decided against looking like a t
otal fool if he didn’t let her go.
“I wanted to tell you, without the guys overhearing…you don’t have to cook for us every night.”
Delaney deflated. The vacuum of space held more air than she did right this second. Annoyance followed the disappointment, prickling under her skin and replacing the shivers. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about? Out here in private?”
She’d sort of been hoping for…something, anything, to break the tension between them that just wouldn’t go away.
“Yes. Not that we don’t appreciate it.”
“I like cooking for you guys,” she pointed out. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy it. Did you think of that?”
He cocked his head. “Oh?”
Yeah. Oh.
Finn dropped his gaze, seeming to study his hand around her wrist. The whisper of a touch registered, and she sucked in a breath. Dropping her own gaze, she watched in fascination as he brushed this thumb over the sensitive underside.
That heat came rushing back, giving her feverish chills beneath a warmth that surged under her skin, in her blood.
Delaney bit her lip. “Was that…all?” she asked, her voice annoyingly throaty.
Why get all worked up again when it would end the same way as every other time? With him walking away.
“No. That’s not all.”
“You want something else?” she asked. Then bit her lip again at the unintended innuendo. Hell, she was practically offering herself up on a platter for the man.
What would he do if she threw herself at his body and screamed, Take me now.
“Yes, I want something.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Even if I shouldn’t.”
That pulled her gaze up to his. Wow, those eyes. Endless blue, drawing her in like gravity. “What do you want, Finn?”
Just say it.
He stared at her, again seeming to memorize her face. He opened his mouth, only to close it, giving a small negative shake of his head. Then did it again.
