Finch: A Forbidden Desires Spin-Off Story

by Piper Scott

  With several powerful thrusts and a rumbling roar, Hugh surged inside Finch and came. Tremendous pressure followed as his knot swelled, and it was enough to do Finch in. He gasped and arched his back, coming on Hugh’s stomach and chest moments before Hugh caught Finch in his arms and dragged him down into his embrace.

  “I love you,” Finch whispered as he caught his breath. “I love you, Hugh. More than I could ever say.”

  Hugh, nearly as much dragon now as man, growled, “Mine.” He moved, turning them both, until it was Finch with his back to the mattress. He thrust a few more times, working his knot a bit deeper and making Finch scream with pleasure.

  Thank goodness for soundproofed walls.

  “Mine,” Hugh repeated, gathering Finch close and showering him with soft, sweet kisses.

  And in Hugh’s arms, Finch wished he’d always stay.

  28

  Finch

  Thursday came all too soon, and with it, Finch’s appointment with Harrison. He arrived at the Drake-Lessardi estate early that afternoon and tipped his taxi driver well, then knocked on the house’s imposing front door. Everard and Harrison’s butler, Cleaver, answered and ushered Finch inside, where he took Finch’s hat and coat and said quietly but distinctly, “Hayden.”

  A young man dressed in gray trousers and a black jacket materialized as if conjured by magic. “Yes, sir?”

  Cleaver handed Hayden Finch’s snow-dampened coat and hat. “See to it these are cared for.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hayden inclined his head, then turned and walked away, his heels a light click on the marble floor.

  Finch was impressed. He’d gotten too used to Hugh’s household, which was a tad more… informal, to put it mildly. Hugh was far too soft-hearted to dismiss any of his servants.

  “Come, sir,” Cleaver said to Finch once Hayden was gone. “I’ll show you to Master Harrison’s office. He didn’t inform me we were to have callers today, but I’m sure we’ll manage. Would you like tea brought up?”

  “I…” Finch was at a bit of a loss. He wasn’t used to being waited on, being far too used to playing the role of several different servants in Hugh’s erratic household. On any given day, in addition to being Hugh’s secretary, Finch might also act as butler, scullery maid, footman, and pot boy.

  Cleaver waited expectantly, one brow raised.

  “Just tea, thank you,” Finch managed.

  “Of course, sir. I’ll have it brought up shortly.”

  Cleaver led Finch through the house and up the stairs to an ornately carved door, upon which he knocked. “Master Harrison, you have a gentleman caller.”

  There were hurried footsteps from inside the room as if someone were running at top speed, then a silence during which the door opened. Finch was surprised to be greeted not by Harrison, but by a boy of about seven with a dark mop of hair and eyes that seemed to be impossibly full of color. He was dressed in a respectable, if very pink, button-down shirt and slacks with smart dress shoes and, for whatever reason, a lab coat. There was a lizard on his shoulder wearing tiny aviator goggles, a scarf, and a crash helmet. A pair of mechanical wings had been fastened to its back.

  Finch had a sneaking suspicion it was the same reptile who’d eaten the strawberry at the birthday party.

  “Hello!” the boy said cheerfully. “Do you know about aerodynamics?”

  The lizard licked its lips in Finch’s direction.

  Finch, flummoxed, took a small and respectful step back.

  “Ah, young Master Darwin,” Cleaver said. “Is your father present? I’ve brought a guest.”

  “Does he know about aerodynamics?” Darwin asked again.

  Cleaver looked to Finch, who shook his head.

  Darwin frowned. “Drat. I was hoping he could help me with Steve. I’m trying to help him learn how to fly, but I think my wing prototype isn’t working. I guess it’s back to the drawing board.”

  “Quite,” Cleaver replied. “Whilst there, might you send your father? I was convinced he was here.”

  “Oh, he is.” Darwin spun around, the lizard on his shoulder wobbling as he did. “Dad? Dad, you can come out now. The experiment is over. There’s someone here to see you.”

  Darwin, as most children his age tended to be, was fairly short, allowing Finch a good look into the room. He saw, to his alarm, Harrison lying on the floor, supporting what appeared to be a cardboard launching ramp that ran from the edge of his desk all the way across the length of his body. When he rolled out from beneath it, the entire thing crumbled. He spent a second collecting it and the soft crash mats laid out nearby before joining his son at the door.

  “Finch!” he said brightly. “I’d say it’s a surprise, except it isn’t, because I knew you were coming. I guess I lost track of the time. Sorry. I’m sure you know how it is.”

  Finch looked from the boy in the lab coat, to the lizard, to the hastily piled wreckage of the launching ramp, and was sure he didn’t. At all.

  “In any case, I’m ready for you. Darwin, do you think you and Steve could do some research into what kind of alloy airplanes are made from? I have a feeling if we switch up the material of Steve’s wings, we might get better results.”

  “Okay. I will.” Darwin stepped out of the office and around Finch. “I’ll tell you everything about what I find.”

  “Great! I’m looking forward to learning all about it. Have fun.”

  “I will.” Darwin smiled almost shyly at Finch, then took off at a run down the hall.

  “Is there anything I can fetch for you, sir?” Cleaver asked when Darwin was gone. “I’ll be bringing up some tea shortly, but if memory serves, you haven’t eaten since breakfast. Shall I arrange to have a light repast sent to your office?”

  “Oh, that sounds great. Thank you, Cleaver.” Harrison smiled with tremendous warmth at the butler, who bowed his head and took his leave. It was all quite strange. “Now that that’s out of the way, would you like to come in, Finch?” Harrison asked. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”

  “My afternoon is yours,” Finch assured him. “I’m the one in your debt, not the other way around.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.” Harrison stepped back, granting Finch entrance to the room. “It’s not all that often I get to run tests without Ev around, so this is a treat. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right with you. While I’m getting ready, let’s go over some basic information. Can you tell me about how many days your heat lasted compared to what you’d usually expect?”

  Finch, who’d settled in an armchair near Harrison’s desk, went over all the facts and figures he could remember. His last heat had lasted four days while his regular heats lasted for seven and had ended just shy of two weeks ago. No, he hadn’t bonded with Hugh—at least, not that he was aware of—and no, he hadn’t noticed the presence of any strange abilities or inexplicable happenings since becoming intimate with his dragon.

  “Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?” Harrison asked as he jotted notes into a spiral-bound book.

  “No,” Finch replied. He’d been too afraid to, and unsure if a standard pregnancy test would be able to detect a clutch.

  “It’s probably a little early, anyway.” Harrison stepped over to where he was sitting. “Kind of right on the cusp. You’d probably get results, but why bother when you’ve got me and Ev around to give you a sure answer?”

  Finch wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer that question or not, so he nodded to be polite.

  “Okay, well, let’s get started. Do you see that door that looks like it leads to a closet? It goes to my examination room. Go in and you’ll find a screen—the kind you change behind, not the kind for a computer. That wouldn’t be much use, would it?” He chuckled. “Behind the screen you’ll find a medical gown. It’ll be folded and resting on a wooden chair. Change into it and hop up on the examination table and I’ll be in to see you in a minute. I just need to pop over to the bathroom to wash my hands. I’d do it in my examination room, but I figure you
could use the privacy. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you,” Finch said even though he was increasingly unsure if scheduling an appointment with Harrison had been the best idea. “I’ll be waiting.”

  They parted ways. Finch stepped into the other room, found the medical gown in question, and changed. Cautiously, he got onto the exam table and lay down, then took in the room while he waited for Harrison to join him. All things considered, Harrison’s private examination room did look professional. It was sterile and tidy, stocked with the kinds of things you’d expect to find in a doctor’s office. It was strange, since Finch was convinced he’d been told that Harrison was a doctor of herpetology, but it seemed there was much he didn’t know about the Drakes and their mates.

  A short while later, there came a polite knock at the door. “Can I come in?” Harrison asked.

  “Yes. I’m decent.”

  “Wonderful.” The door opened and in came Harrison. He swept across the room, washed his hands a second time, and snapped on a pair of blue examination gloves. Finch watched with a clinical eye. While Harrison could be rather enthusiastic, he was surprisingly professional when he needed to be, which was now. Especially once he wheeled over an ultrasound machine and unhooked a wand destined for unspeakable places.

  It was awkward, of course, but made a little less so by Harrison’s steady stream of overly intrusive questions. At first, Finch found it frustrating, but he warmed to it as the conversation went on. Harrison truly was something else, and while his sensibilities were as distant from Finch’s as the sun was from Pluto, they found common ground in an unexpected subject—their pets.

  “That lizard on your son’s shoulder,” Finch said. “What’s the story there?”

  “Oh, Steve? He’s Darwin’s big brother. I adopted him when I was working toward my PhD and we’ve been together ever since. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  “And his wings?”

  “Iguanas don’t have wings,” Harrison provided helpfully. He probed the wand into a place that made Finch blush. “They do have a dewlap, which is that flap of skin that hangs beneath his jaw and neck. If you use your imagination, I guess you could see that as a single wing, but you need two wings to fly. And hollow bones. Or magic. It’s quite a complicated process. I’m still trying to figure out exactly how much magic goes into dragon flight, but there are only so many hours in the day, and I have so many other experiments underway that I don’t have time to get to it right now. I’m hoping in the next five years or so I’ll have some availability, which will be perfect, because Darwin will be twelve, which should be just about the right age to help me with my research.”

  Finch had been referring to the mechanical wings attached to the lizard, but he was too taken aback to bother clarifying.

  “Do you have any adopted children?” Harrison asked as he continued to probe. His eyes were locked on a screen Finch couldn’t see while lying on the examination table. “Or maybe Hugh does? I don’t know too much about him. He tends to keep to himself.”

  “I care for two rats,” Finch volunteered. “Their names are Eleanor and Elizabeth, and they are exceptionally sweet. My truest companions. Well, except for Hugh, of course, but that’s more of a recent development. My ladies have kept me sane since they came under my care, and so too the ladies that came before them.”

  “Rats are interesting. Some reptiles eat them, and that’s fine, but I’ve always felt a little bad. They seem to be clever little creatures.”

  Finch gawked.

  “I’m glad that there are people like you to take care of them,” Harrison continued, oblivious to what he’d just said. “I just… hmm. Weird.”

  “Weird?” Finch asked. “What’s ‘weird’ about a pet rat?”

  “Oh, no, not the rat. Your ultrasound. At this stage, your eggs should be small but visible, but I’m not seeing anything. According to my color theory, Amethyst dragons and Amethyst dragonets should be a mating pair that can produce a clutch, but… it’s not there.”

  The bottom dropped out of Finch’s stomach, and he rested the back of his head on the examination table as a sudden wave of dizziness hit. The reality of the situation hit him hard. Harrison had seen nothing on the ultrasound. Finch was not with egg.

  Tears prickled in the corners of Finch’s eyes, which he hastened to blink away. He’d known this would happen. It was why he’d been so adamant not to pursue Hugh romantically. Like he’d predicted, Hugh had taken his heat, and Finch had failed him, and while Hugh had charmed Finch into bed with sweet words and promises of forever, whether a clutch was involved or not, Finch had seen the joy in his eyes when he’d thought Finch had conceived.

  When he found out the news, he would be devastated, and Finch would have to forever live with the burden of knowing that he was the one who’d made Hugh suffer.

  “Don’t give up hope yet,” Harrison said with a sunny smile that only made Finch feel worse. “You could be carrying a dragonet. They’re much more common than clutches, after all, which makes sense when you think about it. At least from a biological standpoint. I don’t have a large enough pool to be able to draw conclusive evidence, but it seems to me like clutches happen in intervals of several centuries, whereas dragonets fill the gaps in between. Anyway, don’t worry too much about it. Ev will have a look tomorrow and confirm what I saw, and then he’ll run some blood tests to see if you’re pregnant with a dragonet.”

  Imagining he was pregnant with a Disgrace did not bring Finch any joy. Hugh would humor him with smiles and kind words, he imagined, but the hurt would still be there, only now it would be buried and would fester as time went on. Finch’s own father had been so disappointed in his Disgrace of a son that he’d left Finch’s mother to give birth in her cloister and never bothered to visit, and while Hugh was too soft-hearted to want to do the same, compassion would not eclipse shame.

  That was, of course, if Finch was even pregnant at all.

  Harrison removed the wand, cleaned Finch up, and helped him off the table. Behind the screen where he’d left his clothes, Finch dressed mechanically. His emotions churned, throwing up scattered feelings like random vegetables in a boiling stew: a flare of sorrow here and a glimpse of worry there. It was all impossible, and he had no one to blame but himself.

  When he was dressed, Finch exited the examination room and found the office was not as he’d left it. There was a pot of tea, several teacups, and a sandwich resting on a silver tray on Harrison’s desk and an omega in the armchair Finch had once been seated in. Finch recognized his blond curls and excess of jewelry right away. It was Peregrine, whose eyes looked sad, but who smiled at Finch with a dignified, if subdued, happiness that hinted at pain. “Finch. How good to see you. How are you? Are you well?”

  “Did Harrison tell you, then?” Finch asked dully. He supposed it didn’t matter. Soon enough all of Hugh’s family would know that Finch was yet another of Hugh’s failures.

  “I would never do that,” Harrison assured him. “I may not have my M.D. yet, but I do know a thing or two about doctor-patient confidentiality, and I would never break it. I promise.”

  Finch flushed. “I do beg your pardon.”

  “Oh, it’s all right.” Harrison pushed his hands into his pockets like they were talking about the weather and smiled. “I’m not mad. It’s a very easy mistake to make, and I’m glad we were able to sort it out before any feelings got hurt.”

  “Would you like me to leave, darling?” Peregrine asked Finch in a sympathetic tone of voice. “I had no idea you were visiting, and I didn’t mean to intrude. I can wait in another room until your business has been concluded.”

  “No. No, it’s fine.” Finch spared a look at Harrison, who never seemed to let anything detract from his happiness, then to Peregrine, who seemed to be engrossed with misery of his own. “I suppose I should get used to talking about it, as word will spread soon enough, and everyone will know. Hugh took my heat and I didn’t catch. I’ve failed to give him a
clutch.”

  Peregrine looked surprised, but not as surprised as he should, considering their relationship had been a secret. Likely one of the servants had talked. They always did. Finch had more cause to know that than most.

  “That’s not entirely true. Finch could be pregnant with a dragonet.” Harrison gestured at Finch’s midsection like one might on an anatomical model. “I couldn’t detect eggs during his ultrasound, but a fetus would be almost undetectable at this stage. We need to do blood work to accurately conclude what’s happening. Or a pregnancy test, but blood work is way more accurate, and I’d rather do the tests myself than rely on something that’s been mass manufactured.”

  The more they talked about Finch’s failure, the harder it became to keep his stiff upper lip. Gathering up what shreds of dignity he had left, Finch inclined his head to both Harrison and Peregrine. “Yes. I think that about sums it up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to.”

  “Would you like me to call Cleaver and have him show you out?” Harrison asked.

  Peregrine shook his head and rose from his seat, his bangles tinkling as he did. “No need. I’ll show our friend out. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “I don’t need assistance,” Finch tried to say, but Peregrine placed a delicate hand on the small of his back and led him out of the room regardless.

  When there was a closed door between them and Harrison, Peregrine leaned in a little closer and said, “Loving a dragon isn’t always easy. Especially when one isn’t marked.”

  Finch, despite himself, flinched at that. “That really isn’t any of your—”

  “It’s also hard to dream of children when you know, when you are certain in the deepest part of your heart, that you will never have them. That you will never have anything.”

  Finch’s heart felt like it was being shredded. He clenched his fists to mitigate the pain. “But you’re mated to Sebastian and have been for half a millennium. You have everything.”