Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
F innar stared at the bathroom door as it closed behind Scarlett, then found his gaze drifting to the bed platform. The alcove beckoned with its thick furs and intimate shadows. It wasn’t uncommon for an entire family to share that space—it didn’t have to mean anything. He could invite—order—her to join him. He could tell her he didn’t want to make her sleep on the bench, that he wasn’t comfortable making her sleep in front of the fire.
But it wasn’t that simple. His blood heated at the thought of her curled up in his bed, her scent mingling with his own. His beast clawed at his insides, insisting he claim her.
The intensity of his reaction shocked him. He’d meant to keep her as a servant, not… this. The memory of working beside her throughout the day, those casual touches that set his skin aflame, the way she’d transformed his den into something that felt like home again—it all threatened to shatter his carefully constructed walls.
No. The bench was a much safer choice. But at least he could make it more comfortable.
He yanked blankets and furs from a storage chest, layering the thick furs to cushion the hard wooden surface. The blankets would keep her warm enough—warmer than she deserved as his captive. But he couldn’t stop himself from taking two of the furs from his bed and adding them as well, telling himself it was only because he didn’t want to listen to her complain of being cold during the night.
His claws threatened to emerge each time he caught her scent, his beast still raging at his decision to banish her from his bed, but he did his best to ignore it.
The sound of running water reached his sensitive ears as he finished with the makeshift bed, and his imagination tortured him with images of water sliding down her pale skin. His shaft stiffened as he pictured her naked form, and he paced the room, trying to banish the thoughts.
When she emerged, his breath caught. The shirt hung loose on her small frame, falling to mid-thigh. Damp patches darkened the fabric where her wet hair dripped onto her shoulders. His scent would cover her now, marking her as his. His beast rumbled in approval. but he ignored it just as he ignored the satisfaction that coursed through him at the sight of her in his clothing.
“You should be warm enough,” he growled, stepping away from the transformed bench as she gave it a startled glance. The words came out harsher than he intended, his frustration with himself bleeding into his tone.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
The soft gratitude in her voice sent an unwelcome pang through his chest. He turned away, unable to face the genuine appreciation in her expression. She had no right to thank him. No right to make him feel this confusing mix of guilt and protectiveness.
His beast snarled its disapproval, but he held firm. He wouldn’t give in to these unsettling urges. She was human. His prisoner. Nothing more.
“Go to bed,” he ordered, his voice rough. “And don’t try to escape. I’ll hear you if you do.”
Retreating to his bed alcove, he yanked the curtains closed with more force than necessary. The rustle of blankets reached his sensitive ears as she settled onto the bench. Her presence filled his home with an unfamiliar warmth that both pleased and unsettled him. He shouldn’t feel this contentment knowing she was here, safe in his den. And he definitely shouldn’t regret putting her on the bench instead of in his bed.
He’d brought her dress and cloak into the alcove. He’d told himself it was just another precaution—without her clothes she couldn’t leave—but he found himself clutching her dress, inhaling her lingering scent. Her sweet fragrance wrapped around him, calming the restless thoughts that usually plagued his nights. His beast purred in contentment as he buried his face in the fabric, letting her scent envelop him.
Sleep claimed him quickly, drawing him into dreams filled with domestic contentment. The den transformed into a warm, welcoming home. Scarlett moved through the room with graceful efficiency, her presence bringing order to his chaos. They worked side by side, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization. Her laughter echoed off the walls as she teased him, erasing years of loneliness.
The dream shifted. They sat across from each other at a table laden with steaming dishes. Flowers spilled from the pitcher between them, catching the golden lamplight. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him, then rose to her feet. She wore only his shirt, the hem barely skimming her thighs. Her fingers toyed with the buttons, slowly unfastening them one by one. The shirt slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, revealing pale skin dusted with freckles, pretty pink nipples, and a small patch of fiery curls. His shaft stiffened, straining against his pants as she stepped towards him.
“Finnar…” The word came out as a whisper, a caress of breath that sent shivers down his spine.
She knelt before him, her small hands tugging at his pants. His cock sprang free, hard and aching for her touch. Her delicate fingers circled his girth, her soft gasp sending a rush of desire through his veins.
“I need you,” she murmured, looking up at him with a mixture of desire and innocence that shattered his control. “I need to taste you.”
His hand tangled in her hair as she lowered her mouth to his tip, her tongue flicking out to taste him. His hips jerked, seeking more. She opened for him, her lips parting as he slid into her hot little mouth. He growled in pleasure, his claws scraping her scalp.
She worked him with a combination of eagerness and hesitancy, as if unsure of herself. The thought that she’d never done this before pleased his beast. She was his, untouched by anyone else.
His hips rocked in time with her movements as she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around his sensitive base. Pleasure rippled through him, building to a crescendo that threatened to consume him. He fought for control, not wanting this moment to end. But then she looked up at him and smiled and he exploded with guttural cry—only to jerk awake, shocked at the wetness on his stomach and the throbbing of his cock.
He couldn’t remember ever having a dream like that before, couldn’t remember ever feeling this need. But it wasn’t a dream, was it? She was here. In his house. His beast clawed at him to claim her.
She’d been so eager in his dream. So willing.
Was it possible… could she want him too? No. It wasn’t possible. He shouldn’t even want it to be possible.
He sat up and threw back the bed curtains, desperate to escape the lingering effects of the dream. Moonlight flooded through the windows—the windows she’d stripped of their shutters, letting light into his darkness—and his gaze was drawn inexorably to the sleeping figure by the fire.
She lay curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, dark lashes fanned against her skin. One of the furs had ridden up, exposing a length of bare leg that made his mouth go dry. The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows across her peaceful face.
Before he realized what he was doing, he’d crossed the room. His bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor as he drew closer. She stirred slightly, mumbling something in her sleep, and his beast stretched and purred. Mate.
He shook his head sharply, rejecting the very idea. She was human. The enemy. The source of all his pain and loss. And yet… watching her sleep, he couldn’t summon the familiar rage. Instead, an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest.
His fingers itched to brush back the strand of hair that had fallen across her face. To trace the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips. To gather her into his arms and carry her to his bed where she belonged.
Mate , his beast insisted again, more forcefully.
“Impossible,” he growled under his breath, but even he heard the lack of conviction in his voice. How could this small human female have wormed her way past his defenses so quickly? In just one day she’d brought light and warmth back into his den—and his life.
He took a step back, then another, fighting the urge to touch her. She was human. It could never work. The sooner he accepted that, the better.
But before he could return to his bed, a small whimper pierced the silence. His head snapped around to see her face twisted in distress, caught in some nightmare. His protective instincts flared before he could stop them.
He dropped to one knee beside her, his hand moving of its own accord to cup her cheek. The softness of her skin stole his breath. His thumb traced gentle circles against her cheek, trying to soothe away whatever darkness plagued her dreams.
Her sigh ghosted across his wrist as she pressed into his touch. The simple gesture of trust knocked the air from his lungs. No one had trusted him like this in years. Not since…
She nuzzled against his palm, her features smoothing into peaceful contentment. His chest ached at the sight. How long had it been since anyone had accepted his touch without fear? Since he’d wanted to offer comfort instead of pain?
The moonlight caught the copper highlights in her hair, turning them to liquid fire. His fingers itched to run through those silken strands. To pull her close and breathe in her sweet scent. To protect her from whatever haunted her dreams.
But the scars of his past burned cold against his skin. Humans had destroyed everything he loved. He couldn’t let himself forget that. No matter how much his beast yearned for her warmth.
With an effort that felt like tearing open a wound, he pulled his hand away and rose to his feet. Each step back to his bed felt heavier than the last, leaving him more alone than ever in his nest of furs.