35. Finnian

THIRTY-FIVE

FINNIAN

“Let me get this straight,” Taryn says. “You insisted we accept a room so we could not have sex?”

We ate our fill in the dining hall with the twins—sans OTQ, thankfully—and now we’re in our own posh guest suite. The genuine irritation on her face makes me laugh. Pulling her arms apart from where she’s crossed them over her chest, I drag her against me and quickly lock her into an embrace so she can’t wriggle away. Pressing my forehead to hers, I look into her eyes.

“Not yet, love.” Her features soften, and she melts into me from that new endearment. Noted. “I’m going to take care of you. Sometimes that will mean pleasuring your body until you’re a quivering, soaked mess of a thing. And sometimes I’ll know you need something else.”

“Careful,” she warns. “My brain is fully operational and set to ‘hear me roar’ mode.”

I smile and hold her face as I plant a gentle kiss on the twin pillows of her mouth. Gods, I could spend an eternity kissing those lips. Forcing myself to pull away, I give her a serious look.

“I will always defer to you, Taryn. If you tell me I’m wrong, I will listen. But in turn, I want you to really think about what it is you truly need and not just what you want to need.”

She arches a brow skeptically. “And what is it you think I need right now?”

Reaching into my backpack, I pull out a coiled length of lavender rope that matches her eyes, then run the soft bundle across her collarbones.

“To feel quiet,” I say in low voice. “To feel safe.” Her lids drift shut on a sigh, and I know she’s accepting I’m right. But I want her to be clear about her choice. “Will you let me tie you, little sun? Let me love you with my ropes.”

“Yes, please,” she whispers. “I’d like that.”

Her eyes open and meet mine, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. I smile softly, letting her know I’m here, fully present, and ready to ease her worries. I remove her T-shirt but leave her blue satin bra on. If I do this naked, we’re both going to veer off the path I want us on. Those things can come later, once I’m sure she’s leveled out.

I guide her to a settee and instruct her to sit in a comfortable position. As I begin to shake out the first supple rope, I can already feel a sense of calm begin to wash over both of us. Every single strand of the rope holds a purpose; it is not simply a tool, but an extension of my affection, forged to embrace and support her the same way I would with my body.

Carefully, I begin tying a chest harness, starting from the base of her torso. Each knot and twist is executed with grace, taking care to adjust the tension just right. I maintain a steady and deliberate pace, allowing her to surrender entirely to the moment, to trust in me and in the security I provide.

Her breaths starts to slow and deepen, her muscles relaxing as the gentle pressure of the ropes form a cradle of reassurance. With every knot, I’m silently reminding her that her anxiety does not define her, that she is loved and she is safe.

As I work, I steal glances, drinking in the sight of her beautiful vulnerability. Her chest rises and falls with newfound ease, the rhythm of her heartbeat syncing with mine.

With one final gentle tug, I secure the last loop of the harness. Pulling her up to stand, I revel in the way she instinctively dissolves into my embrace.

“And that , love,” I whisper into the top of her hair, “is the power of a harness.”

Her eyes drift shut on a sigh of contentment as she rests her cheek against my chest. “Mm, you can power harness me any time. This feels great.”

I freeze. “What did you just say?”

“I said it feels great,” she murmurs.

“No, before that.”

Her brows knit together as she thinks back. “I said you can power harness me any time. Doesn’t make a lot of sense, but you know what I mean. I’m a tad floaty at the moment.”

Holy shit. Could it really be that simple?

Since reading my grandmother’s letter, I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to decipher the cryptic parts we haven’t made sense of yet, specifically how I’m supposed to harness the magic that saves Faerie. Even knowing I have seer abilities now—barely—they aren’t something that will help against what we’re facing.

I feel like a safe cracker with my ear to the door as I slowly turn the combination, listening for that final click that will at last unlock the big mystery, but so far it’s completely fucking eluded me.

But what if Moira wasn’t referring to me using my magic? What if she means for me to find a way to control someone else ’s?

My brain starts firing out ideas, holding onto the possibles and discarding the bad ones. Suddenly, I remember something odd about the way the clues looked and want to examine them again. I set Taryn gently back onto the settee and rummage through the front pocket of my pack for the printed pages of the clues we scanned, including the one that appeared on Taryn’s palm.

“What are you doing?” she asks, noticing my frenzied movements.

I unfold the pages and smooth them down on the cushion next to her. “Remember how we noted that the ink she used had mostly faded, leaving only certain parts looking fresher than the rest?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Look,” I say, pointing each of the three clues Moira left for us. “Certain single letters are darker. Maybe it’s not because the others are faded but because she went over these specific letters multiple times. I think it’s a code.”

Her eyes widen in understanding. She grabs her pack from the bed and hands me a pen. At the bottom of each page, I write the bolded letters in a line that looks like we’re playing a game of hangman. When I finish, we have three clear words.

HARNESS. CORSET. GAUNTLETS.

Taryn frowns. “Well, that was a fun game that yielded a whole lot of nonsense.”

Scratching my beard in thought, I wonder just how much of my life my grandmother was able to see before she passed. “It definitely could be nonsense,” I agree. “But it also might be genius.”

Grabbing my pack, I sling it on and take her hand. “Come on, I have an idea,” I say, leading her toward the bedroom door.

“Where are we going?”

“On a field trip. I just hope I brought enough rope.”