by Tami Lund
Fates above, his life was never going to be easy, was it? Not if Cecilia was in it. And if he hadn’t been sure he wanted her in it before this, there was no question now. He was alternately relieved to see her, desperate to console her, and furious that someone would deliberately do this to her. That was all on top of the very nearly overwhelming urge to couple with her, to mate with her, to ensure she was his forever and ever. It almost felt as though ten different people were living in his head, and they all had differing opinions. How the hell did Tanner handle it? He’d have to ask. After they got the hell out of this place.
She sat in his lap like a child, and he held her in the circle of his arms, squeezing just tightly enough so she felt secure, while he stroked her hair and babbled, talking about sunlight and happiness and making love on the beach on a tropical island. He promised to book a flight as soon as they were safely out of this basement, but she needed to come back to him so he could do it, because he sure as hell wasn’t going alone.
“What are you talking about?”
Her voice was weak and shaky, but she sounded coherent. And the tumultuous emotions banging around in his head seemed to be receding. At least, those belonging to Cecilia anyway. He pulled away enough to look down into her face. She was pale, the gray pallor accentuated by the starkly bright lights. Her eyes were huge, blinking up at him, still clouded by confusion and fear.
“Finn?” Her fingers tightened where they’d been clinging to his shirt. He winced as her grip relieved him of a few chest hairs.
“I’m here, Cici. I’m right here.”
“What are you doing here? How do you—did you figure out this was where they were taking me?”
He winced again. She sounded so hopeful, so certain that he’d been plotting to save her. Guilt swamped him, because he hadn’t known a damn thing. Hadn’t realized something was wrong until he’d heard the sound indicating that Cecilia and whoever the hell else was upstairs had been about to enter the front door to the cottage. He’d been too wrapped up in trying to solve the mystery of who was living down in this dark place and what his connection was to Cecilia.
His Cecilia.
Her screams of terror still echoed in his head. He’d been at the top of the stairs, about to shift into wolf form and storm through the door, attacking everyone in the vicinity. He intended to kill them, every single last one, because they were hurting Cecilia. His woman.
She was, he realized. She didn’t know it yet, and they hadn’t made it official, but damn it, she was. He couldn’t live without her. He wanted her, he needed her, he had to have her, Samuel be damned.
Samuel couldn’t take care of her like Finn could. Samuel couldn’t please her like Finn could. Samuel sure as hell didn’t understand her like Finn did.
It was him she belonged with—not Samuel. He had to get them out of this situation and onto that desert island, so he could coax her into admitting it. Talk her into mating with him, so there would never, ever be a doubt in anyone’s mind. She didn’t love Samuel, she loved him. He just needed to convince her it was true.
How the hell had he—the one who followed orders unconditionally—fallen so thoroughly for such a rule breaker?
Her fingers curled into his shirt, loosening more chest hair. “We’re trapped,” she said, gasping for breath. “We’re— How is it light?”
Finn nodded at the wall of artificial lights. “Fake sunlight. I doubt it was here when you were fifteen, Cici.” He deliberately used the intimate nickname, the one that once drove her nuts when he said it. Whether it warmed her soul or helped her become more lucid because it annoyed her—he’d take either option, at this point.
“Why is it here now? Why are you here?”
“I’m here because I was investigating, trying to figure out what the hell was going on with all the attempts on your life. By the time I realized you were in danger, they were about to toss you down the stairs,” he added, needing her to understand.
I didn’t desert you. He had been so engrossed in what he discovered here in the basement that he hadn’t been paying attention when her emotions tried to penetrate his brain. He had no idea how long she’d been in turmoil before he realized it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Someone’s been living down here. A Lightbearer, I assume. No one else would need artificial sunlight, not to this extent.”
“Cedric,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“My brother.”
“I thought your brother was dead? Ten years ago or something like that.”
She shook her head, so violently that her blonde hair fanned out behind her. “He didn’t die. It was fake. He—they—faked his death.”
“The king said the evidence implied shifters did it.”
“Contrived,” she said with such absolute conviction, he was compelled to believe her, despite the anarchy flitting around in her mind just a short time ago. But her mind was clear now. The psychosis that had gripped her when she’d been tossed into the basement was fading. He tightened his arms around her body and cursed his own for reacting the way it always did when he was in her vicinity. Dangerous situations be damned, his body craved Cecilia as if she were the very air he breathed.
She shifted in his lap, and he bit back a groan. Then she lifted her face and smiled so serenely, he was almost ready to forget everything else and take her, right there in that basement, shifter-style. It would be apropos.
But then she lifted her hand and cupped his scruffy cheek. She whispered, “Thank you for saving me,” with such sincerity that his sexual thoughts took a momentary backseat to another thought, an equally as strong emotion.
I love this woman.
The hand cupping his face flared with magic and Cecilia’s eyes widened, and Finn wondered if she understood what he was thinking. He was able to feel her emotions. Could she feel his? Then he decided he didn’t give a hot damn. He needed to say the words out loud; he needed her to understand that he didn’t care what she might have felt for Samuel or any other guy. He wanted her to be his. He wanted to mate with her, to be secure in the knowledge that she would warm his bed for the rest of her life.
He knew she wasn’t the maternal sort, knew she might not even want to whelp a pup or two, and he was okay with that. His sister had given his parents a few grandpups to spoil, and his brother, Reid, was young enough that if he ever got over the psychological issues caused by Quentin Lyons, he might settle down and produce a few pups too. Finn didn’t need pups of his own to be happy. He just needed Cecilia.
“Cecilia, I—”
“He planned his own death.” Her words were stark, heavy and dripping with emotion, just as her mind was. Unlike him, she hadn’t been able to turn off their current predicament. He supposed he understood, given her history with this place, and the fact that her own brother was the mastermind behind whatever the hell problems were occurring in the coterie at the moment.
Finn pushed away his own selfish thoughts and focused on her. He stroked her hair, silently encouraging her to continue.
“I think that’s what happened. And my parents knew. They knew.” She clutched at his shirt, her eyes full of unshed tears.
“Why do you think they did it?”
Cecilia shook her head and then sighed and leaned against his chest. “I don’t know. The only thing I can think is that my leaving the coterie must have triggered it somehow. Their zealotry certainly increased after I admitted to leaving and meeting up with that human boy during my fifteenth summer.”
He banded his arms around her again, squeezing her almost too tightly as he struggled with his own emotions. “I’m so glad they didn’t break you. I’m so glad you refused to let them change who you are.”
She pushed away from his chest and offered him a watery smile. “As I recall, the person I am generally drives you insane.”
“Cici, that’s not true. I lo—”
Abruptly, her magic flared again, and she clutched at his shirt, fisting her hands. H
er eyes were wide, her body tense.
“Olivia,” she cried out. “He poisoned her. And my mother—he killed my mother. And Samuel.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“Samuel?” His name hadn’t been on that list Finn found.
She nodded, as the tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Just because he wanted to mate with me.”
Finn’s entire world crashed down around him. His hopes, his dreams, his desires, his love. It all crumbled and broke into little pieces at his feet. At Cecilia’s feet.
Samuel. She was crying over Samuel. He’d been killed because he wanted to mate with her. What the hell happened? After that incident at the beach house, had she chased after him, informed him that the answer was yes?
She wanted Samuel.
She didn’t want Finn.
Chapter 23
“Tell me everything you know,” he commanded as they trudged across the snowy, dark landscape.
Cecilia struggled to keep up. He’d helped pull the iron manacle off her wrist, helped her up the stairs, and helped her pull on her magic to break through the wards that had been guarding the basement door, but he’d done it all with a mechanical precision, a determination devoid of emotion. As if he was simply doing a job.
Cecilia Duty.
What happened? One moment, he was cuddling her in his lap, and she could feel his erection pressing into her backside. Her own highly inappropriate thoughts—given the situation—were intermingled with his own. She could feel it. His emotions were nothing but positive. He wanted her. He would have been willing to have sex with her right there in that god-awful basement, had she provoked him. She had even wondered if she could lure him into doing it shifter-style, thus sealing them together forever. She had certainly wanted that.
Badly.
But his emotions had switched off, as abruptly as the artificial sunlamps, just before they left the basement. What went wrong? Why was he suddenly so cold?
Once they were standing in her parents’ kitchen, he directed her to stay put and didn’t bother to lecture her on following directions. He just slipped away into the darkness, not even looking at her before he disappeared.
He returned a few moments later and declared they were alone, and Cecilia thought, We sure are. Alone, separate from one another. Whatever closeness they’d had in that basement, whatever she thought his surge of emotion might have meant, she’d been wrong. Clearly. Finn was closed off to her now. She could not sense his emotions, other than a firm determination to keep her locked out. It was almost enough for her to wish they were in that dreaded basement again.
Almost.
Damn it, something had happened down there. That surge she’d felt, it had been so…warm and…and loving. Sincere. Honest. Stark, as if he had intended to lay his emotions bare, to offer them up to her for… For what? What had she honestly thought he was going to do? Ask her to mate with him?
Not a chance.
That had been her emotions talking, her own hopes and dreams and fantasies. Finn thought she was a convenient fuck, nothing more.
“Tell me,” Finn said again, his harsh tone cutting through her internal musings.
“Finn, I’m not the enemy here,” she started, but he interrupted.
“I can’t come up with a plan to save us if I don’t know what the hell I’m up against,” he snapped, and she pursed her lips because damn it, he was right.
So she did the same thing he did, turned off the emotions and focused on the reality of their situation. In a monotone, she told him about seeing her mother getting attacked out on the lawn and rushing to rescue her, only to realize it was a trap.
“You should have gone to a guard or Tanner instead,” Finn interrupted.
“Tanner had gone to find a healer, and I assumed the guards would come running at any moment. Only they didn’t, because Cedric had drugged them all with a sleeping drought.”
“Then you should have waited for me.”
“Normally, you’re there, hovering about me, whether I want you there or not,” she snapped back. Her nerves were frayed, her magic was weak, and her ability to block her emotions from him was slipping. She felt as though she were quite literally being pulled through a ringer. She was utterly exhausted.
He abruptly stopped and swung around to face her. They were still in the woods, about to walk along the base of the cliff toward the stone steps leading up to the beach house.
“Goddamn it, Cecilia, stop trying so fucking hard to keep me out. All you’re doing is wiping yourself out. I get that you were in love with Samuel, okay? You don’t have to hide it from me. But I need you to focus right now and worry about mourning him later.”
He turned away, but Cecilia reached out and grabbed his arm. Magic flared when she touched him. He looked at her glowing hand and then lifted his gaze to her face. His eyes were also glowing, so brightly they could be beacons for ships during a storm.
“In love with Samuel? What are you talking about? Did you forget that he drugged me in his own misguided attempt to get me to mate with him? And by the way, I’ve been sleeping with you—not him. He’s been throwing himself at me, and I refused him and slept with you. How could you possibly believe I was in love with him?” She smacked his chest for emphasis. “Honestly,” she added with a huff of annoyance.
Finn stared at her, his eyes still glowing, his mouth slightly ajar, a stunned look on his face. “You aren’t in love with him?” he asked, as if he didn’t believe his own words.
“Oh, for the love of the light,” she shouted, and then she grabbed a fistful of his hair in each hand and pulled him to her. Their lips crashed together, and magic flared again as pent-up emotions and passion and revelation all clashed and swirled together, twisting ‘round and ‘round until it was impossible to decipher which emotion belonged to whom, who felt what.
Which was just as well, since for the moment, they seemed to be in sync.
Finn wrapped his thick, powerful arms around her, crushing her to him, holding her as if he never intended to let her go. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue warring for dominance, demanding she match him in intensity. She pushed him back against the cliff wall and practically tried to crawl up his body in her attempt to get closer to him.
“Finn,” she murmured when he pulled his lips away and trailed hot, wet kisses across her cheek to her neck. He found her ear and bit down, just hard enough to cause her to exclaim as the pleasure-pain sensation shot straight to her thighs. “I need…”
“Shh.”
She realized he’d stopped kissing her. Cecilia blinked dazedly. “Huh?”
“Shh. I hear something.” With his arms still wrapped around her, he twisted her around so that her back was to the cliff, then he turned around so his back was to her, as if he were protecting her.
Cecilia leaned to the side, so she could see around his bicep. “What do you hear?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed her hand and dragged her deeper into the woods, following the wall of the cliff until he found a niche that was large enough for both of them to fit, and then he wedged her into it and stepped in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his hand, and she knew he wanted her to be silent.
And then she heard it. The sounds of people, shuffling toward them through the snow. Cecilia shrank deeper into the niche in the cliff wall, the memory of Cedric slicing off Samuel’s head pressing into the forefront of her brain. Finn glanced over his shoulder, a question in his eyes, but she shook her head. She wasn’t mourning Samuel; she was afraid of what could happen to Finn and herself. Cedric had gained a great many followers, she suspected.
Voices drifted toward them. “Too freaking heavy.”
“That’s because you’re a wimp.”
“If I’m such a wimp, how come I’m still alive? There’s seven back there who aren’t.”
“You got lucky. We all got lucky. This guy is one mean son of a bitch.”
“Ken shouldn’t have provoked him by te
lling him we intended to kill the monster-spawning princess.”
Someone grunted. “Damn it, I need a break.” There was a loud noise as something was dropped to the ground. “Lights above, this shifter is nothing but muscle. And it’s damned heavy when he’s passed out cold.”
“Tanner,” Cecilia whispered, her nails digging into Finn’s biceps. But she knew he had already figured it out. She could feel the anger and hatred coursing through his mind, his body tense, prepared to attack. She pushed soothing magic into him, but he slapped her hands away.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice tight with determination. “I’m not going to act rashly. But I am going to kill every motherfucker over there.”
“Finn, you can’t do it alone. You can’t—”
“Halt!”
The shouted command pulled both Cecilia’s and Finn’s attention. She could not see who it was, through the clusters of trees, but she recognized the voice. And then the other, speaking immediately afterward.
“You sons of bitches!” a female voice shrieked. “That’s my pack master!” A scant second later, a great roar filled the air. Before Cecilia had time to react, Finn was gone, charging through the underbrush, shifting into a tiger as he ran. It was a breathtaking sight to behold. She scrambled out of her hiding place, hurrying after him.
She came upon the tail end of a small, bloody skirmish. By the time she reached them, Lisa had slain three, Dane had taken one down, and Finn slashed his massive black claws across the throat of the fifth Lightbearer in the group. Not a single one had reacted swiftly enough to summon a sword or bow and arrow. Lisa and Finn shifted back into human form and began to methodically check to ensure each one was dead, while Dane dropped to his knees next to Tanner’s unconscious form, and the king of the Lightbearers stepped out from behind a thick tree trunk.
“Uncle Sander?”
“Cecilia, dear.” He opened his arms, and Cecilia obediently stepped into his hug.
