Carefully, Greer cupped her hands over Finn’s to lower them away. She caught sight of Ailie’s ribbon, still tied around his wrist. It was stained dark with blood. His skin was sticky with it, and hers was, too, and she dropped her hold, overwhelmed by the coppery tang.
Hessel’s blood was everywhere.
Now that her focus had been taken from the sky, it was all she couldnotice. It steamed in the snow beneath them. Dripped down from tree limbs. It coated her hair, her face, and, despite the absolute horror of being painted in her own father’s blood, her stomach panged with a curious hunger.
Greer nearly retched in disgust, and the tears that had threatened to fall began to now.
Even if Ellis was here, she suddenly doubted that he would know her, that he would understand anything going on inside her.
How could he, when she couldn’t make sense of it herself?
“We should clean you up,” Finn murmured, wiping at one of the rivulets running down her cheek. He studied the red coating his fingertips before instinctively sucking them clean. Greer turned her head, unable to watch. Her chest tightened, fighting the urge to scoop up a handful of red snow for a taste.
This is wrong, this is so very wrong,her thoughts shouted, urging her to move, begging her to flee. Her throat flexed, her mouth watered, and it was all she could do to remain still as Finn bent down and traced a long line across her cheek with his tongue.
She fixed her gaze upon Ailie’s ribbon.
It was Finn who’d been with her after the death of her mother, who’d known she was hurting, who’d known she needed comfort, who’d needed it himself, and it made sense that he was here now. It felt right. It felt fated.
Finn understands this,she realized.He understands you like this. The real you. The oneEllis would never.
And he never would.
He’d pull Greer from this madness in a heartbeat. He’d tell her to fight against the strange, dark impulses tugging at her limbs. He wouldn’t see that the blood had been spilled, that it couldn’t be returned, that it wasn’t doing Hessel any good any longer, and…
Finn’s blood roared in her veins, silencing doubts, urging her to action. It wanted her to stay. Wanted her to tilt her head and meet the mouth that roamed over hers, teasing, tasting. It wanted the blood he offered, wanted his touch to push away the sorrow and death and let her feel life.
Finn’s lips were at her temple, his kisses reverent as he cleaned her,cleansed her, anointed her into something she didn’t understand but suddenly wanted to.
It would be so easy to give in to the seduction of that blood. Too easy, really.
Releasing the last of her trepidation, Greer kissed him back. She tugged him toward her, hungry for the feel of his body against hers. A growl of pleasure caught between their lips, and she wasn’t sure if it had come from him or from her.
His hands moved lower, caressing her breasts, bunching the fabric that separated her body from his. He tugged at the collar of her sweater, kissing the hollow of her throat before his teeth raked over the length of her collarbone.
He was going to bite her, Greer realized. He was going to feed on her, feed on himself, because his blood was within her, and if he took in her blood, mixed with his…that would be it, wouldn’t it? She’d no longer have a foot in both camps, no longer belong to both sides and yet neither. There would be no more “mostly”s. She’d have turned.
Her head swam, dizzy with desire; she was reeling with wants and worries.
It felt impossible to stop, the culmination of everything Ailie had wanted for her. It was inevitable, two streams merging into one river, waves pulled ashore by the tug of the moon.
I’m sorry, Ellis.
Greer froze, wondering at her thought. It had sounded so small, so fragile. The last of who she was without Finn’s blood guiding her. Was she really about to let it go, to let it wink out of existence?
“Stop!” she cried, and Finn startled away. They stared at each other, mouths open, breaths panting hard and fast. His face was flushed; his eyes dilated. Greer didn’t doubt she looked every bit as wanton. “I can’t.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “Can’t?”
She shook her head. “That’s not me. That’s not who I am.”
“Oh, Greer…it could be.”
She hesitated, then shook her head. Somehow, in the muddled wilderness of Finn’s blood, Greer found that voice again. It was small andpowerless, but it was hers, and she seized it with a hold that would not be broken. “No.”
Finn sighed, resigned. “You’re really going after him?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “Your blood changes nothing.”
