Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
S carlett let her grandmother guide her into the kitchen, her body moving mechanically, her mind still fixed on Finnar. The familiar warmth of the kitchen failed to relieve the hollow ache in her chest.
Her hands trembled as she wrapped them around the steaming cup of tea her grandmother placed in front of her, trying to focus on the smooth ceramic rather than the raw pain threatening to overwhelm her again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” her grandmother asked gently.
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. How could she explain the connection she’d felt with Finnar? The vulnerability beneath that gruff exterior. The gentleness in his hands despite his strength. The passion in his kiss that had awakened something deep within her.
Fresh tears welled up but she blinked them back. The memory of his tortured expression before he’d disappeared into the forest was still too vivid, too painful. Her fingers tightened around the cup as she struggled to contain the sob building in her throat.
Her grandmother sighed, and she looked up to see her staring into her own tea cup, her eyes distant.
“I was only a girl when I met him,” her grandmother said softly. “His name was Arden. He had the most beautiful golden eyes I’d ever seen.”
Her breath caught. “A Vultor?”
“Yes. We met in secret, deep in the woods. He’d leave signs for me—a flower here, a stone formation there. My heart would race every time I spotted one.” A wistful smile crossed her face. “Everything felt so magical back then, so full of possibility.”
Magical. Yes, that was how it felt with Finnar.
“What happened?” she asked, though part of her dreaded the answer.
“He found his true mate.” Her grandmother’s fingers tightened around her cup. “A Vultor female. He tried to let me down gently, but…” She shook her head. “That kind of emptiness never really goes away.”
“But you moved on.”
“I did, and I loved your grandfather, but a part of me always belonged to Arden.”
Just as part of her would always belong to Finnar.
“What do you mean by a true mate?”
“The Vultor experience a… bond with their true mate. The way Arden explained it to me is that it is instantaneous, unbreakable. As if they were made for each other.”
Her throat went dry. “Can they only form that kind of bond with another Vultor?”
The question hung in the air between them, and her grandmother’s hesitation seemed to stretch forever before she finally spoke.
“I don’t know, dear. They say we humans don’t feel such things.”
But something in her grandmother’s expression made her heart skip. The older woman’s eyes held a knowing glint that contradicted her words.
All those moments with Finnar—the spark when their hands touched, the way her body had hummed with awareness whenever he was near. The fierce protectiveness in his eyes when he’d saved her from the adyani. That kiss in the forest that had set her whole world ablaze.
The connection between them had ignited so quickly, burned so bright. It defied explanation—unless…
But even if it did exist, could he accept it? His bitterness toward humans ran deep, carved by loss and betrayal. But the pain in his eyes when he left her seemed just as deep.
Her thoughts chased each in endless circles before exhaustion crashed over her like a wave, her whole body suddenly limp and heavy. The emotional turmoil of the past days combined with her failed escape attempt and the encounter with the adyani had drained her completely.
Her grandmother put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Go and rest, dear. Everything will sort itself out.”
She nodded, too tired to argue. As she climbed the familiar narrow stairs to the bedroom she’d stayed in so often as a child, each step felt like climbing a mountain. The room remained exactly as she’d left it—the same patchwork quilt on the bed, the same dried flowers hanging from the rafters, the same view of the forest through the window.
She sank onto the bed, not bothering to change out of her torn and dirty clothes. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting dappled shadows across the floor. Her body ached for sleep but her mind refused to quiet, filled with thoughts of Finnar. She could still feel the ghost of his lips on hers, hear the rough edge in his voice when he’d called her little red.
She sighed.
“Grandmother was wrong. Not everything will sort itself out.”
Her eyes eventually grew too heavy to remain open. There had to be a way to see him again, to make him understand that what lay between them was stronger than the difference between their worlds. As sleep finally claimed her, her last conscious thought was of finding a path back to him, back to that connection that had blazed between them with such unexpected intensity.
She jerked awake sometime later to find her grandmother standing over her, her face lined with concern. The angle of the sun had changed, casting long shadows across the room.
“How long did I sleep?”
She pushed herself up, still dazed from the long nap.
“Most of the day.” Her grandmother perched on the edge of the bed and gave her a troubled look. “I hated to wake you, but I’ve had another message from Tessa.”
Something in her grandmother’s tone sent a chill down her spine. “What is it?”
“A hunter arrived in the village this morning. A bounty hunter.” Her grandmother’s fingers twisted in her apron. “He was asking questions about you. But Tessa said he seemed more interested in the monsters in the woods.”
“The monsters?”
“Yes.” Her grandmother hesitated. “I think he might be searching for the Vultor.”
Horror crashed through her at the thought of someone hurting Finnar. Of taking more from him.
“No.” The word came out as barely more than a whisper. Images of Finnar alone in his den, unaware of the danger, flooded her mind. “I have to warn him.”
“Scarlett—”
But she was already on her feet, shoving them into her boots. Her body protested, still stiff from her forest ordeal, but she ignored it. All she could think about was Finnar, and the hunter who might even now be closing in on him.
“You can’t go out like that,” her grandmother protested. “You need clothes.”
She wanted to argue, but she knew her grandmother was right. She nodded impatiently and grabbed the first thing she could find in the wardrobe, an old dress she’d left there months ago. She stripped off Finnar’s shirt, her fingers lingering briefly on the fabric before pulling the dress over her head.
“Please, just think this through.” Her grandmother blocked the doorway. “The forest isn’t safe right now.”
“I don’t care. I have to go. He needs to know. If that hunter finds him first—” Her voice broke. The thought of Finnar in danger made her chest ache.
“You’re as stubborn as your mother.” Her grandmother sighed and reached behind the door. “Here.”
Scarlett stared at the worn leather satchel her grandmother held out. “What’s this?”
“Food, water, a blanket—everything you might need.” Her grandmother’s eyes softened. “I know better than to try to stop you.”
Warmth filled her as she took the satchel. Her grandmother had known she would go, had prepared for it. She threw her arms around the older woman’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of herbs. “Thank you.”
Her grandmother returned the hug. “Be careful.”
She nodded, then raced down the stairs, slinging the satchel across her body as she headed for the door. The forest stretched before her, dark and mysterious in the late afternoon light, but she didn’t hesitate. Somewhere in those woods, Finnar waited, unaware of the danger hunting him. She had to reach him first.