I walked half a pace ahead of him, trying to pretend I wasn’t completely overthinking what to say.
It wasn’t an awkward silence, just . . . heavy.
My chest tightened as the unspoken words between us weighed it down. Along with any feelings I’d buried. But I wouldn’t go there. Things were messy enough as it was.
Would it break the ice if I cracked a Dullahan joke? No, probably too soon. Maybe thank him for checking in on me?
A deep grunt ended up killing the silence as Finley cleared his throat. His voice came from behind me—soft, but I could sense the nervousness. Guess I wasn’t the only one.
“I came to check on you after what happened. And again, a couple days after that. Your roommate said she’d give you the messages.” He paused. “Then seeing you at the meadow springs—I was just glad to see you were okay.” Green eyes shifted as he gripped the back of his neck.
My feet didn’t stop padding forward. Probably trying to keep up with my hammering heartbeat.
A sharp curse flung under Finley’s breath. A gentle hand suddenly grabbed my wrist, spinning me around to look at him.
One palm came up to my cheek as concerned eyes locked on mine. They were so full of emotion it sent a thousand flutters through my stomach.
“Carwynn, I’m so sorry about everything that happened. Seeing you dragged into those woods—not being able to get to you. I’ve never been so bloody panicked in my life. And then not seeing you after.” He halted with a sigh, clearly holdingback his frustration that I’d avoided him. “Are you—are you really all right?”
I rested my hand over his, urging my mouth to open.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. I—I just needed some time to process everything.” I slid the left side of my sweater down, exposing the newly branded mark. “I’m okay though. See? Fully healed.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was unnaturally tight. “Aside from this shiny, new battle scar.”
His eyes raked over the red marks. First there was anger, but it turned to curiosity, then confusion.
I wasn’t ready to explain everything—the way my body healed so quickly, the Cherubs who rifted to me like little paramedic angels, the man who wasn’t just a father figure to me, but a Lord. It was all too much right now. And I wanted this moment—quiet and safe.
Finley’s face went unreadable as he took a step closer.
Slowly, warm fingers delicately dipped under the fabric, tracing the scar. But then his hand migrated to the back of my neck, brushing the edge of the black satin choker against my throat—the other scar he didn’t know about. The one that cut too deep to talk about.
A flash of the memory paralyzed my mind. I stilled.
Then, his fingers slipped into my hair, entangling. Warm breath stroked across my forehead, a whisper of a kiss that had my eyes fluttering shut.
I was nowhere near short, but he had a good six inches on me. The kind of height that made women suddenly take up tree climbing as a hobby.
My head tilted up and I sucked in a breath of courage—the same breath that’d been stolen away by nerves.
I should stop this. Not because I didn’t want it, but because I did. And that terrified memore.
This was a different type of gentleness. The kind that came without strings, without pain hiding underneath. His touch was raw honesty.
We’d never beenthisclose before.
Heat pulsed off of him in thick, magnetic waves. His scent aromatic and woodsy, grounding something primal in me. It was fogging my thoughts, untangling my restraint.
His other hand trailed up my back, slow and sensual, pressing firmly between my shoulder blades.
My insides flipped, then twisted. Screams internally echoed that this was a bad idea. I still had bleeding wounds no one could see that needed tending to.
But my body moved anyway. My palms flattened against his chest, and I bundled his sweater in my fists.
What was I doing?
Sanity slipped. My body responded, breath catching and heart pounding like morse code to his. His embrace enveloped me, my back arching to meet it. A thumb lovingly grazed my cheek, like I was something precious to behold.
I wanted to believe that . . . if only for a second.
