Mike was right. When had she turned her phone off? She only had a memory of kissing in the elevator, of limbs tangling as they fell on the sofa, of her backpack falling to the ground.
More memories trickled back. The wolves. The Shades. Her family tree. John Grey and Sirurd’s daughter.
“Well, well.” Mike was staring at something on the floor. “I see you two are getting along like a house on fire.”
She followed his gaze — to the used condom. Something dark was draped over the sofa armrest — Finn’s briefs. Finn stood aside, hair tousled, shirt open.
Heat climbed her neck.
Mike was grinning, through, and his eyes looked happy. “It was about time,” he muttered. “You were either going to screw or kill each other.”
“Was there a reason you wanted to see me?” Ella grumbled. The clock on the wall said seven in the morning and she needed a shower, urgently, and to have a look at the book before signing in to work. Dave might have read it, but they said every book changed with its reader. Maybe Simon had found something in it that Dave hadn’t noticed, and more clues might be waiting for her as well. “It’d better be good.”
“It’s good, trust me,” Mike said, his face turning grim. “I saw something huge flying outside. Something that looked like a snake with many heads and wings. I thought you might know something about it.”
***
Clutching her gun, Ella stepped out and shaded her eyes from the sunlight reflecting on fluffy clouds. “Can’t see a damn thing.” In the haze, the old brick buildings lining the street, stacked together seamlessly like books on a shelf, took on a rosy hue. “Are you sure you saw a snake?”
“Are you accusing me of having imagination?” Mike muttered, a corner of his mouth quirking. “Of course I saw it.”
“You’d better not be kidding.” Her arm ached and the bandage felt loose and wet. Ow. “I’ll inform HQ.”
Flipping her phone open, hitting the speed dial, she looked up and caught Finn’s expression. He was smiling.
Turbo butterflies somersaulted inside her stomach as the memories hit and... Goddammit. She’d told Finn she loved him.
Maybe he didn’t remember. Maybe he hadn’t heard. He certainly hadn’t replied. She gripped the phone harder. It was just sex. Great sex, granted, but that didn’t mean Finn felt anything...
“Ella, is that you?” From Dave’s exasperated tone, she’d say he’d asked the question a number of times already.
Focus, Ella. “Yep, it’s me. Flying snake reported in my neighborhood. Looks like it’s heading toward the docks.”
“Roger that. Stay put, I may need you there.” Dave cleared his throat. “An awful lot is happening in your neighborhood these days.”
“Yeah, aren’t I lucky?” she bit off. “Talk to you later, boss.”
“You’d better,” he said and hung up.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? He was the one with the secret agenda.
Finn’s expression had blanked; he had a hand on his gun, eyes flicking around as if expecting an attack from every side.
Maybe he was right to be worried.
“Mike, did you notice anything else — any other animal, or Shades?” Ella asked, holstering her gun and turning toward him.
He looked haggard, she noticed, dark circles around his eyes and stubble on his cheeks. She tried to jolt her mind into coherent thought — hard task when her thoughts kept returning to Finn, his body, his face, his hands — and frowned.
“Is Scott...?”
“He’s still in hospital,” Mike said. “Doctors said he’s gonna be okay but they’re keeping him for observation for a while longer. He...” A shiver. “He has nightmares.”
Oh man, welcome to the club. Ella clucked her tongue. “I guess he’ll need a lot of cuddling.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “I don’t mean to downplay what you and he went through.”
“I know,” Mike said. “But, hey, I think you’re right. Cuddling. And so on.” He winked.
She stared. She hadn’t meant it that way, but it seemed to lift some of the gloom off Mike, and hell, why not?
Maybe that was the reason why Finn looked a fraction easier in his skin this morning, his shoulders more relaxed.
Christ, heat went up her neck again. It was just a tumble between the sheets, goddammit, not a promise for anything more.
There you go again, Ella... One might think you want more, and here’s how your world looks right now: Huge snakes flying across the sky, and dragons and scaly wolves lurking around corners, the Shades pouring from every tiny crack in the Veil, and Finn...
Finn was a whole brand-new can of worms.
“I need tea,” she announced to the world in general. “Before the flying beauty returns.”
***
“Ella.” Mike caught her arm as they entered the building, his youthful face serious and drawn with fatigue. A scratch ran down his cheek, crusted with blood. Probably hadn’t slept a wink in two days.
“I’m sorry,” Ella whispered. “I should have visited at the hospital. I can’t seem to catch my breath these days.” Torn between the wolves, the Shades, and Finn.
He shook his head and gave a rueful smile. “After that last attack in your apartment, I wish I had been there for you. I hope things were quiet afterward.”
Quiet. A relative term. “Yeah.”
“Listen, I’ve been meaning to say this for the past week.” Mike licked his lips, glanced over his shoulder at Finn who stood by the elevator, arms crossed, studying the grain in the dirty wall. “If anything happens...”
“What are you talking about?” Fear froze her insides. “Nothing will happen, Mike.”
“But if...” He lowered his voice. “If they do get Finn and you need help, I think we should think of what to do. Unless the Shades grab him, in which case he’s a lost cause, but if your boss finds out, or the army, then—”
“Mike.” Ella tipped a nod toward Finn. “You do know he can hear every single word we speak, right?”
Finn lifted a brow and grinned. Damn sneak.
Mike paled. “Oh. Really? I hadn’t realized.” He shot Finn a nervous smile. “Well, then.” He swallowed. “I’m sure he agrees a contingency plan is needed, right?”
Finn was observing them, eyes narrowed. He glanced to Ella and shrugged. Finn-ese for “Why not” or “What is he on about”?
“Sure. Got any ideas?” Ella scratched at the loose bandage under her blouse. It itched and she didn’t know if it was a good or bad sign — the smarting of knitting flesh or the tingling of infection? “If Dave turns out to be a Guardian after all and—”
“Dave?” Mike’s dark eyes bugged out. “I thought the Guardian was Simon?”
Oh damn. Urgent updating needed. “The situation has changed,” she muttered, tugging on her sleeve, teasing at the seam. “Dave seems to be the one to worry about.”
“Fuck,” Mike whispered and Ella couldn’t agree more.
“Yeah.”
“And if it’s true... If he knows you know...”
“What will he do, kill me?” Ella shivered. “He has no reason to. Nobody would believe me anyway.”
As if suddenly feeling the cold, too, Mike zipped up his leather jacket. “We need a special code, in case we are separated and can’t communicate.”
Ella suppressed a sigh. Mike, she decided, had been watching too many spy movies. “Like?”
“Like, if you’re on the run and you need help. We need a way for you to let me know where you are, without anyone else knowing.”
Finn’s head dipped forward; listening or thinking. “We leave messages by piling stones,” he said, his deep voice echoing in the empty entrance hall.
She could see it — dark stones on the snow, forming symbols. Had she seen that in a dream?
“That’s it, we could do something like it.” Mike’s voice rose in excitement. “If needed, you can leave me a message—”
“I could throw sto
nes at your head,” Ella muttered.
Finn snorted.
“Forget it,” Ella said firmly. “It won’t be necessary. Nothing will happen.”
“I hope so.” The light in his eyes went out. “You’re family to me, Ella. If anything happens to you...” He shook his head.
Awh. There, her warm fuzzy of the day. “Thanks, Mike. It means a lot to me.”
Mike tsked and pushed back his shoulders. “Good, because it’s the truth. Now, how about some breakfast? I’m inviting.”
***
Ella could see why Mike insisted on breakfast at his place. Inside her apartment, she righted a chair she didn’t remember pushing over and looked around the messy living room. The stench of old blood lingered, mixed with Finn’s musk.
Leaving her gun on the coffee table, she headed to the shower, questions tumbling over and over in her mind. Why was she seeing Finn’s dreams so clearly now? Why couldn’t she touch and talk to him in the dreams? Had she ever been able to before?
She stripped and removed the bandage, giving the wound on her arm a cursory glance and shuddering. Damn wolf had tried to sever her arm. Bastard.
She left the butterfly bandages on — water-resistant, the package had read — and stood under the hot spray, letting it beat on the knots behind her neck as questions buzzed inside her skull.
What was the connection between the stabilizing ability Dave’s notes mentioned and sharing Finn’s dreams? And why Finn? Across the Veil, from the millions living in either world, why him?
That cold feeling again in the pit of her stomach, telling her something bad was lying in wait, and like in the dreams there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
Not one of us...
The bathroom door creaked and whined. Gasping, heart booming, she reached down for her gun, then remembered she was naked. She clenched her fingers into a fist as she pushed the shower stall door open—
Finn.
He straightened, a pile of knives at his feet, and turned toward her. His eyes widened. A breath of cool air rushed into the shower stall, then he was there, right in front of her, his gaze raking her body, sliding like warm honey over her breasts.
Without thinking, she took a step forward, fingers unfolding to touch his face. His lips tilted in a smile that took her breath away, and a brow lifted in question.
She closed the gap and rose on tiptoe to kiss his lips, throwing her arms around his neck, drenching him. His ripped shirt molded to his muscled chest, growing transparent, outlining every dip and bulge.
Mmm... Who needed breakfast if she could taste Finn?
He nipped at her mouth, his eyes closing, pressing their bodies together. She tugged on him, drawing him under the water. He laughed, a rich, bronze sound, and resisted just long enough to pull off his shirt, tearing it to shreds in the process. He struggled to get out of his wet pants, and she heard another ripping sound.
Finn glanced up, scowling, stepping out of the ruined cloth.
A breathless snort bubbled from her lips. He was so cute, glaring as if the pants had insulted him. His pulse throbbed at his jaw. He looked nervous, and that made her smile.
Finn stepped forward, gaze zeroing on her mouth, and placed those strong hands on her waist. Aware of his strength, keeping the grip easy and loose, nudging her back under the water, following her. She tangled her hands in his hair, drawing him closer, wanting to feel his slick skin rubbing against her. He pushed her back against the tiled wall, hands sliding over her, touching her everywhere, causing ripples of pleasure, drawing moans from her throat. His breath washed on her arched throat, and she shivered when he placed open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder.
“Please...” she whispered, wondering dimly how it was possible to want him so much she burned with it, even more than before, her body leaping under his touch.
Grunting softly, he pulled back, his eyes glazed. God, he was so heart-wrenchingly handsome, and she reached up to stroke the dark tips of his ears. The fine, shining lines played again on his skin, so that he practically glowed as he stood under the spray, like a sculpture made of crystal.
So different. So perfect.
He dipped his face, seeking again her mouth, his hands brushing down her thighs and lifting her legs. She wrapped them around his hips, and he raised his hooded gaze, asking, requesting...
She shifted and he gasped, jerking a little. Rational thought tried to surface through the pleasure. “Can’t,” she whispered. “No protection.” But she wanted him, wanted to feel him.
“Only touching,” he murmured.
He demonstrated and, oh dear god, he really had... talented...fingers. They stroked and teased, rough and slick, strong and then gentle, robbing her of coherent thought.
Blindly she reached down. She wrapped her fingers around him, and he faltered, groaning. Hot and hard, silk and steel sliding in her hold. He rocked in her hand, eyes closing, and she moved against him. The shower stall broke into a giant wave of pleasure, engulfing her, pulling her under. She was falling into darkness.
Dipping his mouth to her shoulder, Finn bit lightly into her flesh, his whole body convulsing. His heart boomed against her. She pressed her leg around his thigh, tightened her hold on him, and Finn jerked, head falling back, and slammed a hand into the wall.
Pleasure rolled up her body like a hot current. The world crashed, exploding without a sound, dissolving into colorful sparkles.
Dimly she was aware of her stunned cry bouncing off the walls, and Finn’s strangled moan.
“Oh shit.” Her knees buckled and she slid down the tiled wall, pulling him down with her, the warm water beating down on their bodies, sluicing into her open mouth. He knelt opposite her, head bowed, panting.
“Ella...” He touched two fingers to his chest.
“What does that mean?” She covered his hand with hers, feeling his rapid heartbeat through his fingers.
“Together,” he whispered. “As one.”
As one. She put hers arms around him, pressed their foreheads together, and didn’t think she could let go if she tried.
Chapter Nine
Starburst
“We managed to bring the flying snake down,” Dave said, his voice a low growl that raised the fine hairs on her arms. “We posted snipers, and the army had troops with Stinger missiles lining the beast’s path.” He clucked his tongue. “Goddamned elves won’t take us so easily.”
She sure hoped so. “Good news, then.”
“I’m compiling a list of the places where Gates opened, fully or half formed, and where the Veil is being torn. Maybe this will give us a clue.”
“Do that,” she said distractedly. Finn was doing sit-ups in the living room, dressed only in sweatpants and miles of satiny skin wrapped over hard muscles and sinewy limbs. He’d actually tied his pale hair back and he looked ridiculously cute with his ears poking out like that... And ridiculously hot.
“So what do you say?” Dave barked into the phone, startling her.
“Yeah, fine, I guess,” she muttered and hung up, not a clue what Dave was talking about.
Dazed, she leaned on the doorjamb, watching as Finn fell back, panting, sunlight pouring from the window, drenching him in liquid gold and silver. He flicked her a smile as he sat up, turning her heart into mush, then his face hardened again into focus and he started a series of push-ups. Muscles strained and bulged in his bare arms, carving the planes of his chest in sharp relief, cording the tendons in his neck and shoulders.
Ella dropped onto the couch, almost missing it, and pulled her backpack toward her. She fished out the book and curled against the cushions, flipping pages without looking. Finn was now doing something complicated which involved going down on one knee, then stretching, turning at the waist and punching the air, then starting again.
Ella looked down at the text. She wasn’t a fangirl with a crush — she could ignore Finn and read, dammit. The whole world was going down in flames, and there had to be a clue she was missing. Dave sai
d there was a trail of Gates...
Movement caught her eye, and helplessly she glanced up again. Finn stood balanced on one leg, lifting the other, a look of intense concentration on his face, brows drawn and mouth pressed thin.
She tugged at her neckline, too warm, and his eyes flicked her way — one tiny moment of distraction — and Finn wobbled and staggered.
Alarmed, she shot up to catch him.
Finn lifted a hand and chuckled softly, straightening. “I’m okay,” he said, his deep voice sending thrills through her, bringing back images from the shower and filling her veins with molten lava.
Man, so this was what a volcano felt like.
Wiping an arm over his face, he wandered to the sofa, his bare feet silent on the floor. “Is that the book?”
She nodded, putting it down. Who cared about the damn book when Finn was sliding next to her on the couch, his gaze caressing her face like sunlight?
“You’re sweaty,” she heard herself say even as she reached for him and touched his cheek. “You need another shower.”
“With you?” he whispered and desire coiled, heavy, in her belly. It was tempting. God, so very tempting. She couldn’t stop stroking him, his hair, his neck, his back.
“I should read this book. I’m looking for clues.”
He leaned closer. “Clues?”
Hm? She realized she’d been staring at his mouth and blinked. She looked down. “There are some passages about John Grey, and I need to reread them. I mean, all this,” she shook the book at him, “it’s all elvish propaganda, isn’t it? All this talk of the Dark elves, so evil and good for nothing. Damn useless saga. It’s supposed to be about John Grey—”
He covered her mouth with his fingers, stopping the words. “Quiet,” he whispered, and replaced his fingers with his lips. Sweet god, every kiss tasted better, felt better than the last one.
Finn pulled back, lips curving in a smile, and regarded her with a smug expression. “Now you can talk again.”
“...What?” Talk? Who needed talking? Or breathing, for that matter?
Boreal and John Grey Season 1 Page 31
