I grabbed a pillow off the couch and started kneading it, careful to keep my claws inside.
How was I supposed to last another three hours like this?
And again tomorrow? And the day after, and the day after, and the day after?
Finn had a full-time job. He’d be gone every day from Monday to Friday, while I was here.
Oh, I was supposed to sleep, but I’d been up ever since Finn’s alarm had gone off, and I’d sent him off with a blow job. I’dplanned to head back to bed, but as soon as the door had closed behind him and I’d drawn the curtain, unease had trickled in.
“Have you talked to Finn about mating?” Bennie asked carefully, voice soothing, face purposefully blank.
“No.”
“Aries says…”
“I know what Aries says.” I interrupted Bennie and held up a hand. “It’s just… I want this to be Finn’s decision. I need to earn his trust back, and that means not pressuring him into anything.”
Bennie laughed, wrapping an arm around me. “I’m pretty sure mentioning that the option is on the table is not the same as pressuring him into something. Talk to Finn, okay?”
“Maybe.”
Maybe I’d just get used to the aching hole in my chest and all the horrible thoughts running through my head.
He was back.
Finally.
Oh, he wasn’t technically here yet, not inside our house, but he was close—in the driveway. I could hear him turn off the car, followed by the telltale click of him unfastening his seatbelt, rustling as he grabbed his bag, and then finally the car door opened.
I was still sitting on the couch, but it took me every ounce of restraint I had left not to race to the door and wait for him like a dog waiting for its owner. No, I could play it cool. I could pretend I was fine.
Because contrary to what Bennie thought was best, I wouldn’t tell Finn how badly our being apart was affecting me. I didn’twant him to agree to mate me just because he didn’t want to see me hurt. I could endure this until he was ready. I could…
The door opened. A soft click, followed by a billow of light as the curtain was pulled back. A waft of Finn’s scent carried over to the couch, and I couldn’t wait. I practically flew to the door. Over the backrest of the couch, through the living room and the hallway, until I had my Finn in my arms, his legs securely wrapped around my middle, my nose buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as my body relaxed for the first time since he’d left the house about ten hours earlier.
“I missed you,” I mumbled against his oh-so-warm skin. His heart skipped, blood rushing through his veins, his scent intensifying.
I groaned, my fangs aching.
“I missed you too,” Finn said with a laugh. I didn’t think he understood just how much I’d missed him. How much I’d needed to feel his body against mine. How much I’d needed to feel his body heat that showed me he was alive. How much I’d needed to scent the blood pulsing through his veins, even though a myriad of different smells clung to him, trying to dampen the enticing aroma that made him him.
The right thing to do would probably be to let him go. To give him space to take off his shoes and put his bag away or whatever, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go, and I couldn’t share, so I carried him right up the stairs until we were in our room.
Because it wasn’t just mine anymore.
It was ours.
It smelled like us. Our scents combined into a mix that screamed home in a way my room never had.
And there were all these little details that showed me I wasn’t living here alone anymore.
The night table was filled with Finn’s stuff—a bottle of water, a book, cough drops, and a box of tissues.
A couple of photos of him and his friends hung on the wall.
A different photo of him and me, sitting on the couch, smiling up into the camera, was wedged between my mirror and the frame.
Small things, really, seeing as all the furniture was mine. Minor details that shouldn’t matter all that much but meant every-fucking-thing to me.
