Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
S carlett’s hand trembled as she reached for the familiar brass doorknob. The familiar comfort of her grandmother’s cottage beckoned, but her heart ached at the thought of what—who—she would leave behind. She glanced back at Finnar, his powerful frame outlined against the forest’s edge, and her chest tightened.
The door swung open before she could turn the handle. Her grandmother gave the torn shirt a horrified look before wrapping her arms around her.
“Scarlett! Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been so worried.” Her grandmother pulled back to look at her, dark eyes bright with tears. “Are you all right? Where have you been!”
“I’m fine, Grandmother.”
She returned the hug, then looked over at Finnar. He looked as fierce and intimidating as he had when she’d first met him but she knew him so well now. She could see the uncertainty beneath that hard mask.
“And who is this?” her grandmother asked, following her gaze. There was a note in her grandmother’s voice that she couldn’t quite read.
“This is Finnar. He…”
The words caught in her throat. How could she explain everything that had happened? How could she describe the way her world had shifted in just two days?
“He found me in the woods,” she said at last, and took his hand again, tugging him into the cottage.
Her grandmother’s cottage looked exactly as it always had—the loom by the window facing south, the carefully tended herbs hanging from the rafters, the comfortable chairs pulled close to the hearth. But she felt different, changed. The familiar space no longer seemed to fit as well, like a dress she’d outgrown.
And Finnar… he looked so out of place here, so huge and powerful among her grandmother’s delicate furniture. But his presence brought a sense of security and warmth that she hadn’t realized was missing until now.
She watched her grandmother study him, noting the way her keen eyes took in his imposing height, his alien features. Instead of fear, there was something like recognition in her expression. But she barely had time to wonder about it before her grandmother pulled her into another fierce hug.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” her grandmother whispered against her hair, but even as she said the words, she could feel the tension in her grandmother’s body. “You’ll tell me what happened?”
She nodded, but she kept her eyes on Finnar. He looked as uncomfortable as he had the first time she’d entered his den, but he didn’t try and leave. Her grandmother’s eyes flicked between the two of them and then she sighed.
“But first, let’s have some tea. Come on, both of you.”
Her grandmother disappeared into the kitchen and she could hear the sound of pots clanking together and water running. Finnar still stood awkwardly by the door, and she took his hand again, leading him into the kitchen
“Tessa came by yesterday because she was worried when you didn’t return. She was the one who told me you were missing.” Her grandmother’s sharp eyes darted between her and Finnar. “She said she’d warned you about monsters in the woods.”
How long ago that seemed.
“The bridge was washed out in the spring floods. I got lost trying to find another way across.” She twisted her fingers together, avoiding that knowing look. “Finnar found me and brought me back.”
“Did he now?” Her grandmother’s tone held an odd note as she gestured towards the kitchen table. “Then I owe you my thanks.”
His shoulders stiffened, but he followed them to the table. The wooden chair creaked beneath his weight as he perched awkwardly on its edge.
“And what were you doing in the forest?”
“Grandmother, don’t interrogate him.”
“I’m not. I’m simply curious.” But her grandmother’s voice gentled. “I’m sorry, Finnar. You’ll forgive an old lady’s concern for her granddaughter.”
“I live in the woods,” he said gruffly, his deep voice resonating in the small room.
“That must be lonely, especially with winter coming on. Where’s your pack? Your family?”
She could see the pain flicker in his eyes at the question, and she quickly interrupted before he could respond, “Finnar has been very kind to me.”
She squeezed his hand. Her grandmother noticed the gesture and her lips pursed.
“I can see that. Scarlett, why don’t you fetch the tea while I speak to our guest?”
Scarlett opened her mouth to object, but her grandmother gave her a firm look. Reluctantly, she stood and went to the stove to prepare the tea.
“I thought the Vultor agreed to stay away from the village,” her grandmother said in a low voice.
They had? And how did her grandmother know that?
She paused in the act of lifting the kettle, straining her ears to catch his response.
“I brought Scarlett home.”
“Did you? That was very generous of you.” There was an undertone in her grandmother’s voice that she couldn’t read. “I thought the old alliances still held.”
“They do,” he said stiffly.
Annoyed by the cryptic conversation she placed the tea tray on the table with a little more force than necessary. For once her grandmother didn’t reprimand her, continuing a light stream of talk as she poured the tea. Everything she said seemed innocuous enough, but she was clearly referencing things that Finnar understood. His jaw grew tighter and tighter until he finally pushed back from the table.
“I have to go.” His gruff words cut through her grandmother’s meandering conversation.
Her heart plummeted. She jumped up from her chair, following him as he strode out of the house. The morning air hit her face, sharp and crisp, making her shiver—or perhaps it was the thought of watching him walk away.
“Wait.” Her voice came out smaller than she intended, but he paused at the edge of the porch and turned to face her, his broad shoulders tense. “Can I… will I see you again?”
For a heartbeat, his face softened, hope lighting those striking blue eyes. Then darkness swept over his features like storm clouds blotting out the sun. He shook his head, dark hair falling across his face.
“Our worlds are too far apart, little red.” The pain in his voice made her own chest ache. “They always have been.”
Her throat tightened at the finality in his tone. She wanted to argue, to tell him that worlds could be bridged, but the words stuck in her throat.
He made a low anguished sound and then his mouth crashed down over hers. The kiss stole her breath, fierce and demanding, filled with raw need that set her blood on fire. His lips moved against hers with desperate intensity, as if he was trying to memorize every moment.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders as she kissed him back with equal fervor, pouring all her unspoken feelings into that single burning moment. The world fell away until there was nothing but the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands, the solid warmth of his body pressed against hers.
When he finally broke away, his eyes blazed with such torment that her heart cracked. He traced her cheek with trembling fingers, then spun away and disappeared into the forest with inhuman speed, leaving her gasping and alone in the cold morning air.
She stumbled back inside, her lips still tingling from his kiss. The cozy cottage that had always been her sanctuary now felt hollow, the cheerful clutter unable to fill the emptiness expanding inside her chest. Her throat closed up and tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Her legs gave out and she collapsed into the nearest chair, wrapping her arms around herself as if she could hold back the tide of grief. The hole inside her grew wider with each shuddering breath. How could someone she’d known for such a short time leave such a gaping wound?
She gripped the shirt she was wearing in trembling hands, desperate to hold onto this last piece of him, but it only made the tears fall faster. The memory of his tortured expression before he’d run away played over and over in her mind.
“Oh, my dear.”
Her grandmother’s voice seemed to come from far away and then familiar arms wrapped around her, warm and comforting. She buried her face against her grandmother’s shoulder as the sobs that wracked her body gradually subsided into hiccups.
“What happened, dear one?” Her grandmother’s voice was gentle, patient.
She pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I don’t know how to explain it.” Her voice came out scratchy. “There was just something about him. Even when he was trying to be fierce, I could see the pain underneath.” Fresh tears welled up. “And now he’s gone.”
Her grandmother’s arms tightened around her.
“Oh, my sweet girl.”
The sympathy in her voice made Scarlett’s heart ache even more.
“I know it sounds crazy,” she sniffled. “We barely knew each other. But it felt like… like we’d known each other forever. Like we were meant to…” She couldn’t finish the thought.
Her grandmother stroked her hair, the familiar gesture soothing some of the raw edges of her pain. But who would comfort Finnar? Would he retreat into the darkness again? And if he did, would he ever be able to find his way back?