Page 168
“Solid blow, Callan.” Finn works his jaw once, then wipes the corner of his mouth where a small line of blood appears. “You get one punch on me. I’ll give you that.”
Callan’s chest heaves as he glares at Finn, his fists still clenched, his anger barely contained. Finn takes a deliberate step forward, still calm, almost unnervingly so.
“But I’ll not let you have two.” Finn’s voice is sharp, eyes narrow, and tone firm. “You can be angry. You can hate me if you so wish. But ye’ll respect what Triona and I have. Ye’ll respect her.”
“That’s my sister, ye feckless bastard! Who are you to tell me what to do?” Callan bellows.
“How long, Finn? How long have ye been hidin’ this from me?”
Callan’s nostrils flare, his gaze burning as he glances between Finn and me. For a moment, I think he might swing again.
“How long?” Callan repeats, his tone dripping with venom.
“I haven’t lied,” Finn says firmly, his gaze unwavering. “But this is… a recent development.”
Callan snorts, his tone biting with disbelief. “Did ye take her to bed?”
Underneath Finn’s calm exterior, a simmering anger boils. “You have no right to ask that. What happens between Triona and me is our business, and no one else’s.”
Callan’s face contorts with rage, his voice rising with a venomous edge. “So ye did... dinnae stand there and pretend to be an honourable man! D’ye ken how humiliatin’ it is to find out like this? My best mate lyin’ to me, treating me like some damned eejit?”
“That is not what is happening!” I snap, pushing myself between them, my voice quivering with a mix of anger and disbelief. “You don’t get to twist this into something it isn’t.”
I step closer still, laying a steady hand on Callan’s arm, my tone resolute. “I love you, Callan, but I’m not asking for permission. This is my choice.”
Callan wrenches himself away from me. “Aye, yer choice,” The spits, then he’s tearing away from the room, leaving a trail of stunned silence behind him.
Casey steps in, his attempt at levity strained beneath tension. “Ye’d best sleep lightly,” he quips, clapping Finn on the back. “Ye’re fortunate he held his second strike,” Casey says with a grin.
Finn smirks. “Aye, but I was ready if he had come at me again.”
As the room buzzes back to life, my chest tightens with a mix of relief and lingering unease. Callan’s reaction, though predictable, was fierce—too fierce. Even Casey’s laughter echoing through the room does nothing to ease the ache in my chest.
Finn sees it, the worry etched across my face, because he cups my cheek. “I’ll make it right,” he murmurs.
I blink up at him, my brow furrowing. “Finn, he’s furious. You saw him. He—he feels betrayed.”
Finn nods, his expression serious now. “Aye, he does. And maybe he’s right to. I should have gone to him first. Callan’s been like a brother to me, and I’ve no excuse for not tellin’ him sooner.”
He pauses, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on my cheek. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix it. There’ll be no bad blood between us, okay?”
“You promised we wouldn’t—” I start, my voice trembling as frustration seeps into my tone, but he cuts me off with a devilish smirk, his hands sliding to frame my face, grounding me despite the fire in my chest.
“I gave you half a day’s mercy, Triona,” he says, his voice playful. “And that was plenty. Any longer and I might’ve gone mad.”
“And in that half day, did you consider what chaos this would cause? Or did you simply think of all the ways to make a grand gesture?” My words cut sharper than intended, but my heart betrays me, twisting as his unwavering gaze meets mine.
His smirk deepens, and his thumb brushes against my cheek, soothing. “I made a promise to be yers first. If waitin’ longer meant pretendin’ not to love you, then no, I couldnae do it. Ye’re mine, Triona. The world needs to know that.”
Without waiting for my response, he lifts me off the ground as though I weigh nothing. A startled gasp escapes me as my legs instinctively wrap around his waist. My cheeks burn, heat flooding through me as I feel the strength of him holding me so effortlessly. His golden eyes lock onto mine, searing with an intensity that makes my heart stutter and my breath catch.
“Finn—this is hardly—” I start, my tone somewhere between protest and surrender. But with a look, he silences me, voice dropping to a husky whisper meant only for me. “I’ll be takin’ you back to bed to apologise for my brash behaviour. I intend to lay you out and worship yer body with my tongue until ye’ve forgotten every reason to be angry.”
My heart thunders as his words settle over me, stealing whatever resistance I might have had. A small whimper escapes me as I feel his sultry heat against my core. I tighten my hold on him, burying my face in his neck as the world fades, leaving only Finn, the wicked promise of his words, and the heady pull of everything he is.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, though my tone holds no real heat.
“Aye,” he admits, as he races us from the room. “And ye’re an impossibility, come true.” My heart swells at the sentiment. I forget the eyes that might be watching, the murmurs trailing behind us, and decide it’s best to beat fire with fire.
