Finch: A Forbidden Desires Spin-Off Story

by Piper Scott

  Hugh had forgotten about the cake. The events of that afternoon were lost to the fog of his mind—only glimpses of it remained.

  “You spoil me, Finch.” Hugh rolled onto his side and buried his face against Finch’s thigh. “I think I’m ready to say goodbye to everyone and leave. I’m in need of another nap, preferably somewhere soft and familiar.”

  Finch never stopped stroking his hair. “Of course, sir.”

  “Will you come with me? To nap, I mean. It feels nice to have you near.”

  “If you’d like.”

  “I would.”

  “Then I will.” Finch stroked Hugh’s hair back from his head, then stilled his hand. “Do you need help up, sir, or are you feeling capable?”

  “Let’s see.”

  Hugh stood, but even though the ground beneath his feet was no longer uneven, he wobbled a little. It was for show. Like he’d hoped, Finch rose and tucked himself under Hugh’s arm to offer support. Hugh nestled closer to him and off they went, a man, his dragon, and a partially eaten slice of cake.

  16

  Finch

  Finch rode in the car back to Hugh’s estate while his employer slept, his cheek rested on Finch’s shoulder. Hugh snored, but very quietly, like a low rumble, and the sound was far more endearing than it was annoying.

  When they arrived back at the house, George opened the car’s door and then helped Finch remove Hugh from the vehicle. He woke while it happened. His plum-colored eyes opened wide, and he stared around at things like an astonished child. “Finch. I say. We’re home. How did that happen?”

  “George drove us, sir.”

  “Nonsense. The journey took no time at all. Someone used magic. It’s the only explanation.”

  “Just the magic of George’s driving, sir. Come, let’s put you to bed.” Finch took one of Hugh’s arms and George took the other. Hugh shook the other Attendant off, however.

  “No. Thank you all the same, George, but I’m not an invalid. Just a bit… ah… woozy. I’ll be perfectly fine with Finch here. You go run along and do… whatever it is… you do. That’ll be all.”

  George gave Finch a knowing smirk and a wink. “Of course, sir.” That said, he gave a shallow bow and went to return the car to the garage.

  “There,” Hugh said. “Much better. Shall we go?” He started pulling Finch behind him with rather more strength than Finch had been expecting from a dragon who was higher than a kite.

  “Of course, sir.” Finch had to practically trot to keep up after Hugh.

  Through the front door they went, across the foyer, and straight past the marble staircase leading to the second floor. Finch looked back at it uncertainly. It was the quickest and easiest way to access Hugh’s bedroom, where he assumed the dragon would want to nap. Hugh, it seemed, had other plans. He led Finch into the east wing of the house, which housed the barely used library, the somewhat more frequently used conservatory, and—

  “My hoard!” Hugh announced as they stood before the thick armored door.

  Finch’s heart began to pound much too fast and too hard. A dragon’s hoard was a special thing, and Hugh wanted to nap with Finch inside his. “Yes, sir. Your hoard.” Finch swallowed. “You wish to nap inside your hoard?”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Hugh cheerfully. “It’s my favorite place to nap. All the gold is very soothing, you know.”

  “I… well… I’ve heard that, yes.” Finch felt his ears burn with the thought of what else dragons liked to do in their hoards.

  Hugh smiled, and it lit up his entire face. “Have you? Brilliant. I’m very much looking forward to a nice snooze amongst my treasures.”

  “With… uh… me?” It came out as a question rather than a statement.

  “Of course with you, silly boy. Now. Let’s see here.” He placed his palm on the touch screen mounted to the wall to the right of the door. A moment later, a panel on the wall opened and out came a retinal scanner, to which Hugh presented his right eye. A light flashed.

  “Scan complete,” said a disembodied robotic voice. “You may now enter.”

  “I do love technology, don’t you, Finch? How clever of Reynard to have these installed.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  Hugh gave Finch a sideways glance. “He told me it would be possible to add another retinal signature to its database. If you like it inside, maybe I can have you added. It would be nice, I think, to have some company in my favorite place, especially if that company is you.”

  “I have a suite of my own, sir.” The heat gathering in the tips of Finch’s ears was starting to become uncomfortable. It was an utterly ridiculous idea to have him added to the database, but Hugh was being so insistent. “I appreciate the sentiment, but since I’m not involved with the hoard’s maintenance, wouldn’t your mate be cross were she to discover me on the list? Or worse, in there when you two, ah… well…”

  Hugh narrowed his eyes at Finch. “Yes, perhaps, but who’s to say how long it will be until I find her? I can have you put on the security system in the meantime.” The concentration on his face broke, giving way to another cheery smile. “Won’t that be nice?”

  Finch was starting to sweat. “The ball is in two months, sir.”

  “Details, details! Two months is an eternity from now. Besides, this is no time to discuss serious matters—this is time to nap. Dragons like to nap. Did you know that? The best place is here, but the conservatory is also good. Harrison once asked me if I had a giant heat lamp, and I had to confess I did not. On sunny days, the conservatory does get quite warm, though.”

  Finch’s heart was beating so rapidly, it felt like he was going to pass out. “Indeed, I… yes.”

  “Yes to naps,” Hugh supplied. “Very good. Let’s get inside, then. I must say, I’m eager for my bed.”

  While Hugh wrestled open the heavy door, Finch stood perfectly still and worked on calming down. Hugh was a delightful, if slightly simple, dragon, and there was no way he was bringing Finch into his hoard for that. Not that that was bound to happen. In fact, the very possibility of that was to be discouraged. Finch was Hugh’s secretary, not a beta plaything ribbed for his pleasure. If Finch was to remain under his employ, it had to stay that way.

  Midway through mentally chastising himself, the door to the hoard swung open, and Finch’s mind went blank. He’d been braced for treasure, but nothing could have prepared him for the magnificence that was Hugh’s hoard. Literal mountains of coins, jewels, and assorted golden trinkets were piled haphazardly within its walls. Interspersed throughout were pieces of furniture—a gilt armchair here, a throne there, and at the center of the room, a tremendous bed with soft-looking sheets and large, cloud-like pillows. The room was bathed in light from both sconces and overhead fixtures alike, positioned as if to celebrate even the smallest piece of treasure. “My lord…”

  “Well, yes. I am an earl. How clever of you to remember. And possibly a baronet. I forget. It was all a very long time ago.” Hugh began to unbutton his shirt. “I honestly have no idea how I’d function without you, Finch.” He pulled the unbuttoned shirt off and tossed it onto a nearby chaise upholstered in dark purple velvet. “You keep track of me so flawlessly, even the parts of me I forget. If I had a mind like yours, there wouldn’t be a dragon in the world who would be my rival.”

  A slack-jawed Finch turned his gaze from several museums’ worth of antiquities to ogle the room’s newest treasure—Hugh. All dragons were beautiful, but Hugh was particularly lovely. His body was strong and sleek, with dark hair that ran down his chest and to his flat navel. From the short distance that separated them, Finch could see Hugh’s pink nipples were erect. God. How on earth was he supposed to deal with seeing Hugh’s nipples? It was all so impossible. “Thank you, sir,” Finch said when he remembered that he had a tongue. “But… are you undressing?”

  “Yes, I am. Otherwise I’ll ruin a perfectly good pair of Brioni trousers, and you do yell when you have to pay the bills.” Hugh unbuttoned said trousers and pulled
them off. “Well, pay the bills out of the accounts, naturally. I’d never expect you to buy my clothing out of pocket.” Hugh had turned pink, but Finch suspected it had little to do with modesty. “Although I daresay that if you did, I’d wear anything you picked out for me. You have marvelous taste, Finch.”

  “Thank you.” Finch’s mouth was entirely dry. He’d gotten used to Hugh’s handsome face, and while he found it no less nice to look at, it no longer dazzled him into utter bumbling stupidity. The same could not be said for Hugh’s body, which was now entirely on display save for the tiny, thin, and very expensive bit of cloth covering his loins. To make matters worse, Hugh had inordinately beautiful legs. Finch wasn’t sure exactly how legs could even be beautiful, especially covered, as Hugh’s were, in fine dark hair. Yet it was inescapable: Hugh was beautiful from the silky hair on his head down to his rather elegant feet. No wonder humans used to slay dragons—they were far too impossibly good looking.

  “You are, as always, very welcome.” Hugh took off the underwear and tossed them on top of his pile of clothes. He stood there, utterly nude and utterly unashamed, and why not? There was nothing at all for him to be ashamed of when it came to his body. Finch, on the other hand, flamed with hot embarrassment.

  “Do you… ah… always nap in the nude, sir?” Finch desperately hoped Hugh wouldn’t require it of him. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

  “Nearly always, yes,” Hugh said, then transformed.

  Despite his thirteen years under Hugh’s employ, Finch had never once seen Hugh turn into a dragon. He’d known it was possible, of course, but there’d never been a time in which the change had been necessary. He’d assumed that it was a quick thing, rather like ripping off a coat, but whether Hugh slowed the process for Finch’s benefit or whether it was simply the way nature intended, the shift from man to beast took longer than Finch expected.

  First, scales tumbled over Hugh’s shoulders and up his neck. They spread over his body gradually, one slotting into place beneath the other like shingles on a roof. While they did, Hugh’s body started to change. Black claws pushed their way out of nail beds, and the bones in his handsome face began to reshape themselves, elongating his mandibles and doing away with his human features. At the same time that his wings appeared, his pupils narrowed into slits. From there, Hugh’s body continued to reshape itself as he expanded, losing more and more of its humanity until a fully grown, fully scaled Amethyst dragon stood in front of Finch. It was enormous. Rather, he was enormous. Finch could only stare.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Hugh was as lovely in dragon form as he was in his human guise, but his beauty rendered Finch speechless all the same. His scales had an almost blue cast to their violet depths. They were decidedly purple, but the sort of hue you got in twilight skies and in the water of the lake as the sun set and night fell. Like the treasure surrounding him, they glistened beneath the light. Finch wanted badly to touch them, but he knew better than to try. If Hugh wanted to be touched, he’d make it known. Until then, it was best Finch keep his hands to himself. It was never a good idea to accost a dragon.

  After a moment spent in observation of Finch, Hugh turned and scrambled up the nearest mountain of treasure. When he reached its peak, he curled up like a cat and tucked his tail over his snoot. Some time passed. A minute or so later, Hugh lifted his head and stared down at Finch, his large, dark eyes narrowed. Finch knew that expression and he felt, suddenly, on firmer ground. “Is there something I can get for you, sir?”

  Hugh huffed out a breath of smoke and a tiny jet of flame. With his front leg, he patted his taloned hand on the treasure beside him.

  “I’m not sure, sir. It’s really not my place.”

  The dragon patted even more insistently, flipping a few coins into the air in the process. They tumbled down the side of the mountain of treasure.

  Finch sighed. Hugh was normally a very easygoing sort of man, but he could be stubborn, and he was currently wearing his most stubborn expression. “Fine. But I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to get up there without falling and breaking my neck.”

  Hugh reached down and gently picked Finch up by the back of his shirt, hauled him up, and laid him on a velvet cushion embroidered with gold and silver thread. Finch was glad he wasn’t naked, because the pillow was itchy. With a little poke to his chest, Hugh encouraged Finch to recline and use his scales as a backrest. They were, Finch found to his utter delight, surprisingly smooth and comfortable, a bit like buttery soft leather, and so warm that Finch wanted to cuddle into them forever. Once he was settled, Hugh curled around him and used one of his mighty wings to close the open space over Finch’s head, creating a small room for Finch made entirely of himself. It was warm and comfortable rather than stifling, and delightfully dark. Who knew that dragons could be so resourceful? Finch cuddled against Hugh’s side and enjoyed it, occupying himself with listening to Hugh’s deep, rumbling breaths.

  He didn’t intend to fall asleep. Rather, like this afternoon at the party, Finch figured Hugh would rest and he would stand watch. Nevertheless, fall asleep Finch did. It was almost impossible not to. Protected by his dragon and sheltered from the world, he’d never felt so safe in his life.

  Finch woke up in bed. He was fully dressed with the exception of his shoes, thank the lord, but the issue wasn’t his state of dishabille so much as it was that he’d gained significant amounts of apparel. As Finch woke, he took stock of it all. A ring had been placed on each of his fingers save his pinkies, which were stacked so high with rings, he could barely see his skin. There were things on his back—coins, probably, although they might also have been flat-backed jewels—and from the corner of an eye, he caught sight of a slender gold chain that had been draped over his head to nestle in his hair. There may or may not have been diamonds studded in it. It was hard to see when he was trying his very best to pretend he was still asleep.

  In addition to the riches covering his body, the bed was littered with coins and some of the largest amethysts Finch had ever seen. There were other gold trinkets and sparkly baubles, but there were so many that trying to identify them all would be insanity. Instead, Finch scanned the bed for the one thing that seemed to be missing—Hugh.

  The dragon was nowhere to be seen.

  With his employer missing and not a clock to be seen, Finch wiggled to dislodge the treasure piled on his back and attempted to sit up. He was still in Hugh’s hoard, he realized, meaning that he was sleeping in Hugh’s sex bed. Well, at least he assumed it was Hugh’s sex bed. The truth was, for as long as Finch had served him, he hadn’t noticed Hugh take any callers. Perhaps it was his wank bed. At the party, Ignatius had shared a story about a wank throne, so anything was possible.

  After he’d shaken off enough treasure to sit up, Finch saw Hugh, naked and very human, coming toward him, carrying some sort of chest. “Oh,” Hugh said. “It seems you’re awake.” He blushed a rosy pink that spread all the way down his lightly furred chest.

  “Ah, yes. How did I… uh… get here? On your m… bed?” Finch had almost said mating bed, but he’d stopped himself in time.

  “I carried you,” Hugh said proudly, “and I did it so carefully, you didn’t wake up.” He set the chest down and started pulling ropes of pearls from its depths.

  “I… see. And the accoutrements?”

  “You needed decoration,” Hugh said, his chin set in a stubborn line. “You wore the lovely brooch today, but it seemed lonely, so I got it some company. Don’t you like it?”

  Hugh spoke with such a hopeful air that Finch couldn’t bear to disappoint him. “It’s all very lovely, sir. You’ll make some omega a very happy mate one day. One day soon, hopefully. The ball is only six weeks away.”

  Hugh’s face fell. “Ah, yes. The ball. Of course.”

  “You seemed excited about it at the birthday party,” Finch said, giving Hugh an encouraging smile. “You were very interested in cake.”

  “Fro
m Chef Funfetti, yes. I’m delighted you’ve made arrangements to have some at the ball.” Hugh, despite his words, looked anything but delighted.

  “Have you changed your mind, sir? Do you wish me to cancel the affair?”

  Hugh looked at Finch and a variety of emotions flashed across his face: relief, resignation, determination, and something that might have been sorrow. “No,” he said slowly. “No, I still need a mate if I’m ever to have a family. Still, it doesn’t give me much time.” He frowned.

  That frown worried Finch. “Not much time for what, sir?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Hugh replied airily. “Well, something, yes, but… well, never mind what. That’s my secret.” Then he gave Finch a smile every bit as brilliant as the diamonds nesting in Finch’s hair.

  17

  Hugh

  Once upon a time, a young Hugh had discovered a golden coin. The tiny piece of treasure had been lost at the deepest part of the stream behind Drake Manor, where it sparkled once a day when the sun hit it just right. Hugh, smitten with its shine, had spent long hours on the shore plotting how to make it his. The current was too swift for him, and the coin too far away. At last, unwilling to give it up, he’d plunged headfirst into the water and had been promptly swept away. No matter how hard he’d paddled or flapped his wings, he simply couldn’t beat the current. By the time he washed up onto the shore, he’d exhausted himself trying to stay afloat. It had been a long trip back home.

  That summer, he’d come to the stream every day to test his luck, and little by little, his skills improved. Three weeks after first spotting the coin, Hugh bested the current. Heart pounding hard from the anticipation of victory, he’d darted all the way down and plucked his prize out of the silt. Alight with excitement, he’d shot back up to the surface and caught his breath on the shore while examining his new treasure. It was an old coin, like the ones he’d seen in his father’s hoard, but it was even better than any of his father’s treasure, because it was his. At least, it had been until later that night, when Everard had tricked Hugh and run off with it. The ensuing scuffle had injured them both and been so violent that not even their beta nursemaids had dared interfere. In the end, their father had been forced to step in and put a stop to it, and as punishment for being so naughty, he’d taken the coin away.