Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

WREN

Wren had not expected the summons to Roland's office which was waiting for her when she got back to her chambers. Not today. There had been a number of them since they arrived in Pelias. They had all been quite cold and formal, impersonal, polite messages from a stranger. Easy to dismiss.

This time he had sent Finn and she couldn't ignore that. From his grim expression she realised that this was less invitation and more command. Making Finn deliver it was just the line to underscore that. A very different kind of message. Finn was his man, through and through, no matter what Wren thought or hoped. And clearly Roland knew Wren would not ignore him.

Carlotta took one look and stepped back out of the room, closing the door discreetly behind her.

Well, at least there was that. Wren didn't want witnesses to this. She was alone with Finn in the plush palace suite assigned to her and she didn't know what to do. Finn had been leaning against a tall-backed chair, but straightened when she entered, coming to attention like the soldier he was. He moved with that familiar lithe stealth, all fluid lines and steely muscles. He took her breath away, just by being there.

‘What do you want?' she asked, the words out of her mouth before she could think of anything clever to say. So that would have to be her greeting. If the words stung him, he didn't show it. Well, he had been avoiding her. He kept his face perfectly placid and handed her the note.

She knew what it was the second she saw it. She had scrunched up and thrown enough of them away by now.

Why on earth did Roland have to send a note when he could come to ask her himself, or even send armed guards to bring her to him? There was a formality to it, an iciness, that didn't sit well with her. He was meant to be her father.

He was also the last person she wanted to know anything about her. Especially now. It was too dangerous, no matter what Elodie thought.

And Elodie, in spite of her own belief in herself, did not know everything.

‘Why does he want to see me?' Wren asked.

Finn closed his eyes, clearly hearing her tone and not relishing the fight to come. Because there was going to be a fight, wasn't there? She could feel it fizzing in the air between them.

‘He's your father. He's worried about you. He wants to explain why?—'

Wren didn't let him finish. There was no point.

‘I don't need him. I've never needed a father.'

‘Only because of Elodie. Please, Wren, listen to him.'

‘Why? Because you ask me? He didn't come here himself. He sent you. I don't know why. You've been avoiding me ever since…'

She couldn't say it. Even now. Turning away, she threw the letter aside, heading for the second room which was where her bed was. A mistake, she realised in an instant, but Finn was right there with her, every step matched. Of course he was. Finn had never backed down from a fight. Not even with her.

‘I've been trying to work out what to do. And what happened.' He sounded as lost as she felt. It stopped her in her tracks.

‘What happened when?'

Finn gave a brief laugh, little more than a huff of breath. There was no humour in it, not really. Just bitterness and despair. ‘Where to begin? In the darkwood, at the stones, in the Sacrum, any time I'm with you…'

‘With me?'

His hand closed on her shoulder, so warm, so strong and yet so gentle. She turned into his touch, unable to help herself. Finn was here, he was real and finally he was talking to her again. But now he didn't reply. He had no answer either.

‘I wish I knew too,' she admitted, ashamed of the way her voice shook, and of the way she wanted to bury herself in his arms. ‘It's terrifying. I keep thinking that any second someone will find out and then…I'll be in so much trouble, Finn.'

‘They won't find out.' His voice rumbled against her and he pulled her into his embrace. She pressed her face into his chest and was swept away in the scent and the warmth of him.

Her Finn. He was hers, through and through, and she was his. She had known it from the first kiss deep in the darkwood, though she would never have admitted it then. From the moment, delirious with magic, he had pressed his lips to hers and filled her with such pleasure and desire, she had known they belonged to each other.

But he didn't deny what they both knew to be true. He didn't try to tell her that everything would be all right. She lifted her face to look at him and found him standing so still, with his eyes closed, his expression fixed and strained. As if he was fighting for control of himself.

‘Finn?' she whispered.

His eyes opened and they were deep and dark, endless, their blue turned to the colour of midnight.

‘Wren,' he said, his voice a growl. ‘Come with me. Please.'

‘To see Roland?'

He blinked, and she saw the confusion flicker over his handsome features. ‘No.'

His hand cupped the side of her face, the touch so tender and carefully controlled. His fingertips brushed her skin, and made a tingling shiver run through her. She lifted herself on her toes without meaning to, as if drawn to him, as if something other pulled her forward.

Finn surged towards her, swift and fluid. A warrior in motion, every muscle trained and honed. His hands tightened their grip on her, strong but still unbearably gentle. Because he was always gentle, even in the greatest passion.

He would never hurt her. She knew that with all her heart, with every fibre of her being.

But his mouth was savage, desperate, like a starving man suddenly presented with a feast. His fingers tangled in her hair, or perhaps her hair tangled around him, and she let herself melt against him.

Great light she had missed this. She had missed him, everything about him. But his passion was her undoing.

Finn lifted her from her feet, pausing only to kick the door closed behind them, and carried her towards the bed. He didn't stop kissing her for even an instant, though his mouth moved from hers, along the line of her jaw and down her neck. Teasing her, and tormenting her, his lips on her skin, his teeth grazing the surface of her flesh. Letting her head fall back, Wren closed her eyes, revelling in the sensation of his touch, his strength, his need for her.

And hers for him, because she couldn't deny it even if she had wanted to. Her body trembled and sang with desire.

The fastenings on her gown defeated him. He looked up, confused.

‘How do you…?'

Wren couldn't help but laugh. ‘I don't know. There's usually someone to help. If it was just me I'd probably have to cut my way out.'

A flash of something wicked and wanton entered his eyes then and a fresh shiver ran through her. He was tempted, she could see that, and he had a knife right there on his belt. Light help her, she was tempted herself.

Their gazes snagged together, understanding blossoming, and Finn laughed, such a different laugh to before. This was a low, deep chuckle that did strange things inside her, wonderful things. The sound of amusement. Of something shared. And it made her think instantly of all she adored about him. All the ways she wanted him. ‘It might be a bit much to explain,' he said at last.

Disappointment quelled her, but she smiled nonetheless. She couldn't help but smile at that expression of longing and devotion. ‘You're probably right.'

She moved to sit up on the edge of the bed, but before she could, he stopped her, his body blocking her.

His voice rumbled against her skin, sending shivers through her. ‘I didn't say we were finished, princess. You aren't going anywhere yet.'