by KT Strange
“You’ll never talk as much as Ace, so don’t worry about it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Nobody talks as much as Ace.”
He snickered at that, and started playing with my braid, teasing the end of it against my collarbone. I shivered.
“I think Max would probably wanna hear from you even if you’re rubbing it in that your life is going more smoothly. When we left to go fight in the war, me, Cash, and Eli? I’d never felt anything so painful as leaving the rest of our pack behind, and I would have given anything to be able to message them in an instant.” He let out a long, sad breath. “We went charging off to war, thinking that it was us making the sacrifice. We came back to half of our pack gone.” He rubbed a hand over his face and then shook his head. “Charlie would be bitching about me telling sad-warrior tales.”
“You can talk about it, I don’t mind. I’ve been having a serious case of the ‘sads’ for the past few days. How do you put up with my sulking?” I held my breath. Maybe he hadn’t noticed? He turned to me, his fingers reaching up to tuck under my chin, his thumb tracing over my lower lip.
“I’m not gonna pretend like you weren’t in a mood while we were camping, doing something that was supposed to make you feel better, but I figured you’d tell me if there was a problem I needed to deal with.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Was that wrong? Should I have asked you right out?”
I thought about it for a moment, I shook my head. I hadn’t been in a space to even talk about it. In an unreasonable pit of sadness, I’d needed to wallow for a bit. Finn’s fingers took an interesting path, over my shoulder, skating down my arm, to slip over my stomach. Cash’s hoodie was on the ground, I must’ve shrugged out of it in my sleep. Now I was just wearing a soft band t-shirt, and he played with the hem of it for a long minute.
“I know something that would make you feel better,” his words pooled like molten lava in my belly and I took a slow, shuddering breath.
“What, your dick is a magical anti-anxiety?” I asked, startling a laugh and a grin out of him. Despite my snarky comment, he turned to me, bringing his lips down to mine to give me a soft kiss.
“Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” His next kiss turned demanding, and I went with it. He pulled me into his lap. My short black skater skirt let me straddle his hips easily. The friction between us made it hard to forget that the only thing between me and him was his jeans and the thin fabric of my panties. He seemed to know it too, his hands rubbing along my thighs, thumbs digging into the muscle in a way that made me shiver and groan in response. His kiss was all teeth and tongue, making me squirm. This was what I needed, him, to forget everything and exist in the moment. I let my hands scratch down his back and he grunted, tensing under me.
His knees locked and I was airborne, as he stood, holding me in his arms. I exhaled a soft yelp and clung to him.
“What’re you doing?!”
“Making you feel good,” he growled, hands wrapping under my thighs. I clung to him, wrapping both arms around his neck.
“Someone’s gonna find us,” I whispered.
“Not if they can’t get in the door.” He took steady steps across the room, and I shivered as he pressed me up against the closed door to the green room, trapping me between it and his body. The inside of my thighs rubbed against his denim-clad hips and I squirmed. He sighed, pressing his forehead to mine, our noses barely touching. “I want you to remember that there is nothing more important to me than making you feel good. You’re sad? I’m gonna make it better. You’re hurting? I’m gonna make it better.” His eyes opened, inches from mine. The fairy lights, strung around the ceiling of the room, reflected back at me in the deep blue of his eyes. “Anyone hurts you, and I’ll fix them too. But you gotta tell me, sweetheart.”
I bit my lip. Max was always complaining that Craig never opened up to her, even though they’d been going out forever. How’d I get so lucky that this hot guy, along with several other hot, talented guys, wanted me to talk about my feelings?
“Promise me, Darcy,” he said, looking serious, even as his thumbs rubbed up and down my bare thighs.
“Promise,” I murmured, and closed my eyes.
“Good,” the word brushed over my lips and he kissed me. “I’d hate to have to punish you for not telling me when something’s wrong,” he said, playfully, as he nipped at my lower lip. A shiver ran through me at the heat in his voice.
“Uhhhm, punish?” My cheeks were hot, and I snuck a peek at him from under my lashes, barely opening my eyes. The smirk on his face taunted me, and I squirmed in his grip. He huffed out a breath, grinding his hips into mine, making me moan and rest my head back against the door.
“How’s about you don’t be a bad girl, and I don’t have to teach you a lesson? Seems easier that way.” He dropped a hot kiss at the base of my throat.
“But what if the lesson was, um, good,” I mumbled, because it didn’t sound like anything he was saying implied that this ‘punishment’ or whatever would be something I wouldn’t end up liking. His tongue slid out, and he laved over what parts of my collar bone he could reach before it disappeared under the boat-neck of my shirt.
“Rewards are better,” he assured me. His fingers squeezed my thighs and he pressed me hard back against the door. “Lemme show you.”
I inhaled sharply when he pulled away, falling to his knees, the tight muscles in his arms flexing to keep me where I was. He looked up at me, chuckled and planted a kiss on the inside of one of my bare knees.
“Finn, I’m gonna—”
“I won’t drop you,” he promised. “Relax and let me make you feel good.”
“You’re holding me against a door, what do you mean ‘relax’,” I hissed at him. He shrugged and deftly worked his shoulders under my legs. I locked my knees around them and tried not to panic.
“You work too hard,” he said, nuzzling the inside of my thigh. I felt the scrape of his stubble over my skin, and it prickled, making me shiver. He crowded up against me, laying a path of kisses up my thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to pretend I wasn’t several feet off the floor. My skirt had been pushed up my legs. I could feel his fingers holding me, and then, the light pass of his breath, over the thin cotton of my panties. The dull, warm pressure of his mouth made me gasp and tense. “Relax,” he said again, and I willed my muscles to go slack. I sank down a half-inch, but he held me tight, and kissed the mound of my pussy with a groan.
“I’ve never—” My face was hot, my neck was hot, all of me was a five alarm fire, because I’d never done anything remotely like this, and I knew I’d probably like it because it was Finn and he seemed damned determined to make me feel good at every turn.
“You’ve got a lot of firsts to get through, and aren’t I damn lucky that I get to be the one who’s here for this one.” He looked up at me from between my thighs, the wicked smile on his face turning my insides to jelly. His thumb traced a line of fire on the soft joint where my thigh met my body, teasing the skin there. He nosed at my underwear again, sighing out. The hot flood of warm air made me moan. “Shouldn’t be selfish, keeping all of you to myself like this, but…”
His thumb hooked into the crotch of my panties and pulled it aside. My cheeks were flushing with embarrassment, but the noise he made at the back of his throat told me there was no part of him that was displeased with what he found. He kissed me again, no fabric in the way, and I grabbed onto the back of his head for balance, my fingers digging into his thick, blond hair.
“Good girl,” he purred, and licked me, one long, slow stripe. It felt warm. It felt perfect. It felt like it wasn’t enough. My hips rolled and he held me up, letting me move into him as he licked me again, teasing through my folds into the most intimate part of me. The soft, wet pressure was good, so good, and maybe he was right, maybe I just needed to relax. My eyes drifted shut and I let myself feel. The brush of his tongue over me, the squeeze of his hands on my thighs, the scrape of his five-o-clock shadow; all
of it was building a curl of heat inside of me. When his tongue slid over my clit, slow and deliberate, I moaned and pulled his head closer to me, begging for more without using words.
He gave it to me, his tongue flicking back and forth, slow at first and speeding up as my body shifted and rolled into it, needing more.
I felt empty, a hollow ache like I needed him inside of me to come. I didn’t know how to ask for that though, it felt like I was being selfish, needing more. I shivered, on the edge, for a long minute before he pulled away with a short, soft lick against me. He shifted his arms, letting me down off of his shoulders. My shoes hit the ground, and my skirt fell back into place, although I’d need to fix my underwear if I wanted to go anywhere and not be squirming as I walked.
I tried not to be disappointed, because he’d been so good at making me feel amazing, and maybe orgasms every time weren’t going to be a thing for me. Some girls struggled with that, right?
Finn took one look at my expression and chuckled.
“You think I’m done with you?” he asked, and pulled me down. “Just needed my hands free for this, is all.” A whine escaped from me as he laid me out on the carpet, his hip jammed up against the door to keep it shut. He pushed my skirt up my thighs and bent down, licking over my hip, and down between my legs.
“Oh god,” I whispered, before pressing a hand over my mouth. The dampened fire inside me roared to life, and my thighs squeezed at his shoulders. I wanted it so bad. I needed it so, so bad.
His fingers joined his tongue, stroking my wet flesh, and I felt the pressure on my entrance as he slipped one finger into me. There was the faintest twinge in my muscles, but that disappeared quickly. The push-pull of his finger was what I needed, and my hips rocked up.
“You didn’t think I was gonna leave you like that, did you?” He mouthed at my clit, sucking it gently. He was using the right pressure, just enough, and as his finger dragged out to thrust in again, I moaned. “You’re mine, all of you, and if you need this, as much pleasure as I can give you, you’re gonna get it. Every time, sweetheart, every damn time.”
His words were pushing me further and further up the tight climb toward oblivion, and I reached for him, needing something to steady myself as I teetered on the edge. His hand came up and he laced his fingers through mine, holding onto me.
His tongue slipped over my clit, and I cried out, the shaking in my muscles exploding into a bone-deep shudder as I came. His finger stilled inside me, thick and exactly where I needed it, and he kept giving me slow, opened mouthed kisses over my pussy until I whined, the pleasure turning from perfect into too much. He pulled away, not before settling my underwear back over my tender skin. He sat up between my knees.
Love fluttered in my heart, a trembling emotion that needed to be protected, as I gazed at him through my half-opened eyes. My pulse was slowing, and a tired, wrung-out feeling was crawling through my limbs. I wanted to sleep for a week. He gathered me up and, as if I weighed nothing, got to his feet and walked me over to the couch. He curled around me as he laid me down, a soft rumble in his chest making me relax even more.
My eyes cracked open. His cock, hard and insistent, pressed against the small of my back as he spooned me. I reached back for his hip, my fingers grazing along his waistband. His hand caught my wrist and he moved my arm to curl it against my chest.
“Don’t have time for that,” he rumbled into my neck as he nuzzled against me, a giant wolf in a man’s body.
“But you’re, um, you’re sorta in a state. That has to be uncomfortable.”
“Not everything’s gotta be about other people, Darcy, sometimes maybe it’s gotta be all about you.” He kissed my cheek and stroked the spot with his thumb. His eyes glittered in the low light of the green room. “You feeling better now?”
I nodded, vigorously. He grinned and kissed me slowly. I could taste myself on his lips, earthy, almost like the ghost of raw honey and something else I couldn’t quite place.
“You wanna go back to the van?” he asked. My eyes opened wide and I sat up.
“You’re not at the merch booth,” I said, “the fans, sales, autographs!” He followed me and shrugged.
“Some things are more important than money, or stuff like that.”
I was about to protest but he kissed me again, arm scooping around my shoulders and pulling me in tight to his chest.
“You give me a choice between what’s out there, and what’s right here in this room, in my arms? I’m gonna pick this, any day, any time.” He sounded so serious and looked so intense that I swallowed down a knot of argument that was waiting to be let out.
“Okay,” I whispered. “But maybe now? Now can we go to the merch booth?” His eyes slid down my body, and a smirk so devious crossed his face that I wanted to know what it was for.
“Sure,” he drawled, “let’s go see my pack-mates, let them sense you all over me, get the scent of how good you smell, and drive them crazy.”
Oh. I bit my lip and he lifted a hand to stop me, soothing the skin with his thumb.
“You keep eating yourself,” he commented.
“Nervous habit, it’s hard to stop,” I admitted. He chuckled and stood, pulling me with him.
“Let’s go torture the guys a little bit. If they wanna be noble and not take what’s in front of them, letting me be the first to gentle you into this, then they’ll pay the price for it.” He winked at me. I had to shake my head. Finn could be a bit bratty sometimes, but I liked it.
“Thanks,” I said, as we walked toward the door, his arm around my shoulders for a few last, precious seconds. Once we were outside he’d have to keep his distance so it didn’t look inappropriate. Jake had already enough fodder for his creepy little Twitter account, I thought darkly.
“Making you feel good is everything I want, is everything the guys want,” Finn said with another one of those full body, devil-may-care shrugs that just seemed so Finn. “That was easy. Keeping you safe, and the pack safe, that’s another story.”
“Right,” I said as he opened the door and motioned for me to step out. A germ of an idea was rolling around in my thoughts, picking up steam.
They needed a heartstone. Only a witch could make one. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to step up.
“I need to make a call,” I said to him. He blinked.
“Okay?”
“I’ll meet you out there.” I gave him a push and he went, grinning.
“Bossy,” he said with another wink. “I like it.”
Twenty-Seven
“You’ve reached Daria Hailward. Leave a message.”
Hearing her voice again was like being nineteen, wearing a witch’s version of a prom dress (layers and layers of fine black chiffon over more chiffon), with the remnants of my coming-of-age gift in my hand. The black pearl necklace had been my grandmother’s passed down to me from my mother on that special occasion. Creston grabbed it from my neck when I pulled away from his wandering hands, and sent pearls scattering all over the floor.
“But he’s such a nice boy, Darcy,” my mother had said. “Are you sure you didn’t break it yourself and are just blaming him?”
She hadn’t believed me. My father hadn’t either.
Daria Hailward, Creston’s bookish sister, two years younger than us, had been the only one who had believed me. But back then, she was my closest friend in a witching world that didn’t understand girls who were different. Neither of us fell into the pattern; she wasn’t glamorous and I wasn’t good at magic. And she’d been living under the thumb of Creston’s hidden cruelty her entire life.
We’ve all had that one guy, at least, who never listened when we said ‘no’. That guy who pushed, pushed until we couldn’t speak, the words freezing in our throats as he pawed at us, tears biting in the corners of our eyes. Maybe we knew him well. Maybe we barely knew him at all. Maybe we’d never seen him before that night. None of it mattered, because in those moments, he was a stranger to us even if we’d known him all
our lives.
Creston was that guy for me. In the end though, it wasn’t him trying to get my pretty dress off of me, or ripping my necklace, or telling me I was a tease, or storming off when I sparked him right in the balls, that hurt the most.
What hurt was my parents refusing to believe that he, a Hailward, would do such a thing. Even though they’d advocated for me with the council, and it had been decided that I wouldn’t have my powers stripped, my parents still didn’t believe me.
That betrayal had sent me out the window of my bedroom, a few things in my bag, running away to accept a place at a university in a city across the country from where I grew up. The only thing I’d left behind that I cared about had been Daria.
“Daria,” I said into the phone, my voice rough. “It’s Darcy. Call me back. Please.”
I closed my eyes tight and tried not to remember how his fingers had snagged in the chiffon of my dress, dragging ladders in the fragile fabric. His body against mine, pressing into the wood-panelling of the council’s ballroom. His breath, hot with alcohol he never should have been drinking in the first place, on the side of my face.
The shame in my mother’s eyes at my accusation, and the disgust in my father’s, when I’d come to the council and told the heads of each families what Creston had done. How my father stood, yelling over me, pointing to the door, telling me to get out, damn you, insolent child!
He had a way with words, my father. My mother stood behind him, pale as a lily, and said nothing. When I refused to move, my father jerked up his hand, and the red lightning of his powers came up, wrapped around my wrists, and dragged me from the room.
My knees still ached with ghost pain every now and then from the scrapes they’d earned that day. I fought him every inch of the way, my own power no match for his. But then my entire life under his roof had been a study in being outmatched, outpowered, outnumbered.
