Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
“What is it?” I crane my neck around. Just beyond the shore, in the tree line, red eyes glow in our direction. My fae sight allows me to just make out the sight of Kane’s imposing figure leaning against a massive oak. “Voyeur,” I mutter.
Finn chuckles. “More like a worrywart,” he says. Beneath the water, his fingers intertwine with mine and he tugs my hand. “Come with me.” He releases me, and we swim side by side toward the waterfall.
Kane’s appearance is a reminder that I should bathe and head back to my clothing, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Finn’s hands on me since the incident with my shadow self last night—maybe since long before that—so I follow.
Finn dives beneath the waterfall, swimming under it. The water pounds so hard, I can’t hear anything else, but I dive after him. When I surface, he’s already pulled himself up on the rock ledge. He extends a hand for me and helps me out of the water. I should feel awkward, exposed as I am, but I don’t. I want this moment badly enough that I don’t have the energy for any self-consciousness.
The sound of the falls is almost deafening, but the water makes a screen, hiding us here, giving us privacy.
Finn cups my face in his hands, studying me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m . . . I’m fine.” I’m not fine. My heart hammers manically in my chest and anticipation skitters along my skin.
Finn swallows and tips his head down, touching his forehead to mine. “I’ve wanted to kiss you again every day—every minute—since I got to at Castle Craige. I can’t stop thinking about it.” He skims his thumb over my bottom lip. “Tell me you want this—that you wanted it before this moment.”
“I want this.” I slide a hand behind his neck and pull him with me as I lower myself to lie on the rock. He presses his mouth to mine, gently at first, sucking and tasting, before his tongue sweeps inside.
I moan beneath him as need and desire ignite in my blood. He deepens the kiss, groaning with a hunger that matches my own. My hands roam over his shoulders and down his powerful back. I taste the desperation in his groan, feel it in the hand he has wrapped around my hip. He slides it to my waist. To my breast. His thumb lightly brushes the underside through the thin, wet fabric, and I gasp at the pleasure of such a simple touch. Arching my back, I press into him, willing his hands to explore and—
Agony. I jerk out of Finn’s arms and push him away. I’m swamped with pain. Heartache. I let out a cry, but it has nothing to do with physical sensations and everything to do with the ache in my chest.
“Abriella?” Confusion warps Finn’s features as he studies me. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
I press a palm to my chest, and my eyes fill with tears. “I—” I sob.
“Talk to me.”
Dragging in a ragged breath, I focus on what Misha taught me. To ground myself. To shield. “It’s . . .”
Understanding flashes in his eyes as he pulls away from me and settles into a crouch on the other side of the rock. “Sebastian.” He mutters a curse. “Of course. He feels you—knows you’re here with me—and you’re experiencing his reaction to that.”
“How . . .” I shake my head. “I thought I’d blocked him.”
“It’s hard to feel anything intensely and block it from that bond.” He scoots close enough to reach me and brushes his fingers over my cheek, down my neck. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m the one who bonded with Sebastian for the wrong reasons.
“I’ll let you finish bathing and meet you back on shore.” He lowers himself into the water, then slips beneath the surface and swims away.
I open my mouth to call him back, but what can I do? What can I say?
I’m bonded to Sebastian. I made that choice despite Finn’s warnings, and now it can’t be undone.
The ride back to camp is tense and painfully quiet. I ride in front of Finn again, but instead of the proximity feeling sensual and decadent, it’s an uncomfortable reminder of what happened under the waterfall. Finn keeps his hands wrapped around Two Star’s reins and nowhere else. Somehow that only makes it worse, and I’m grateful when camp comes into view.
Soon I’m alone in my tent, changing into yet another dress. This one is the palest silver, the color of the moon. It’s strapless, with a heart-shaped bodice that barely conceals the rune marked on my breast, and the soft fabric flows in layers from the high waist.
I linger as long as I can, hoping we’ll have a chance to talk in private, but Finn doesn’t come.