Chapter 7
ISLA
I never imagined myself as a snuggler. But then I wake up, tucked in Finn’s arms, and have to recalibrate the view I have of myself. With this man so close, my body responding to every rise and fall of his chest, there’s an insistent push for me to alter multiple ways I approach my life.
For example, my idea of partnering with any person besides this perfect human.
This is what I’ve always imagined it would feel like to lie next to my mate.
But Finn isn’t my mate.
I need to find Owen and transfer this longing to him.
There’s a sudden pressure behind my eyes, and a moment later, tears start to flow down my cheeks.
Wrong, a voice shouts inside of me, but I can’t solve the puzzle. I don’t know where the piece fits. Where I fit.
Finn sleeps heavy enough that I successfully slide out of his hold without him waking.
But the minute I’m free, I want his arms to capture me again. My body still hums from what we did last night.
All I want is to wake him up and see if we can surpass three.
Instead, I remind myself of the dictate the gods gave me all those years ago.
But their divine voices have never been quieter.
I pull on the borrowed sleep clothes I didn’t end up wearing to bed and leave the room.
Downstairs, wonderful sweet and savory smells waft from the kitchen, and I find most of the MacNamara clan up and eating along with a few more guests.
“Morning, honey.” Sorcha offers me a relaxed smile while she waits by the French press. “Fill your plate. There’s plenty to go around.”
“Thank you. Am I the last one up?” I already know the answer is no, seeing as how I just left Finn in my bed. But in my initial scan of the room, I didn’t spot Owen.
She glances around. “Still a few stragglers behind you. I told everyone they should sleep in. Didn’t stop Owen and Ramona from getting on the road before the sun was up.”
My hand freezes over a stack of waffles. “On the road?”
Sorcha nods, covering a yawn with her hand. “They’re driving down to Key West for the week. Wanted to avoid traffic best they could.”
He’s gone.
The man I am fated to mate is gone. Drove off with another woman. Probably going to have a week full of unending orgasms together.
I should sigh.
I should be frustrated.
I should be jealous.
Instead, I’m relieved. As I work my way around the counter, gathering more food, I poke at the emotion, wondering why my heart can’t follow the gods’ simple dictate.
Fall in love with the person who saves you.
Aka Owen MacNamara. The man who pulled me from the water after I was clipped by a boat propeller and almost drowned. Or bled to death. There were lots of life risks he saved me from that night.
I crunch on a salty strip of bacon as I gaze out of the house’s panoramic windows, overlooking the sprawling waters of Lake Galen. The gentle, glittering waves bring clarity.
Maybe Owen has the right of it.
What’s the rush? We could wait another year. Another ten. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?
And in the meantime, I can pursue other things.
My mind continues churning as I head toward the stairs, balancing my breakfast plate in one hand.
When I play with the idea of partnering myself to Owen ten years from now, the deadline still looms too close.
How about never?
I pause with my hand on the knob of the bedroom door, experiencing another rush of relief at that thought.
I don’t need a mate.
What’s the point, really? A partner for life might sound good on paper, but I’ve done fine on my own.
So, no, I don’t need a mate.
I don’t need Owen MacNamara.
What I need is …
I need …
“Gods.” I’m not sure if I’m speaking to them or cursing them. “I need Finn.”
For however long he agrees, we’ll have … something.
This lack of a plan is disconcerting, but the one piece I do have—Finn—is absolutely right. I also have determination as I push through the door and stride up to the bed, where the human in question still sleeps, snoring softly. His lips are parted, emitting the cute noise.
I settle on the bed at his side, waiting for him to realize I’m here.
He doesn’t.
Tired of waiting on him, I take charge.
“I want to kiss you,” I announce.
Finn jerks awake, eyes wild as he stares around the room, his attention finally landing on where I sit, cross-legged beside him.
“Isla?”
“After you brush your teeth, I want to kiss you.” I extend a piece of bacon. “If it wasn’t clear, I’m doing away with the neck down only rule I established last night.”
Finn blinks at me, his long, fascinating lashes brushing his cheeks with every downward stroke. He doesn’t answer.
“Are you still waking up, or are you trying to find a nice way to tell me you don’t want to kiss me?” Maybe if I maintain my normal detached demeanor, the second response won’t hurt as much.
“I want to kiss you.” His quick reply eases a tension in my chest I didn’t want to admit to.
“You can eat first.” I hold out my plate of assorted food offerings. “There’s more downstairs. Best get your strength up. I want a vigorous make-out session. Possibly more orgasms. We can discuss it.”
With a slow-moving hand, as if he expects me to yell shark attack and dump the breakfast in his lap, Finn reaches out and retrieves a slice of avocado, swallowing the piece in one bite. He shifts to mirror my seated position, keeping the sheets bunched around his waist.
“You’ve changed your mind since last night.” His fingers carefully retrieve a raspberry.
“Yes.” I watch as the juicy little fruit passes through lips I want to explore.
“Are you still planning to seduce Owen?”
“Unlikely. If I do, it won’t happen for another decade.”
Finn’s lips thin, but I still find them very kissable. “Why? You’re not interested in him, are you?”
“No. I should be, but I’m not.”
“Why should you be?”
“I said before, it’s not something you’d understand. A family thing.”
Finn gives me his hard stare, and the weight of his focus strokes along my nerve endings. “You mean, a magic thing?”
The man’s question triggers an instinctual warning, the blaring bell in my head only made stronger by my parents.
He knows something.
If he knows anything, it’s too much.
What did I do? What mistake did I make?
My heart rate speeds and my breath with it.
“Isla?”
My eyes flick to the door.
Should I run? The MacNamaras are just downstairs. I could tell them …
Realization crashes over me.
Finn is Owen’s best friend. Coworker. Has spent countless hours in this house.
He might have learned about my kind. Many humans in Folk Haven know. But not all.
“How well do you know the MacNamaras?” I use my most neutral tone to ask the question, attempting to ease away from a panic that won’t serve me.
“Very well.”
“How well?”
Finn sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, which messes up the dark mass more than usual. “Well enough to know what happens the night of the dark moon.”
The night of the dark moon.
His phrasing reveals the truth. That is how most selkies speak of the one night a month we decree it safe enough to bring out our second skins and take on our other form.
On the pitch-black nights, with no moonlight to reveal us, we can reconnect with our animalistic selves, become one with the water, and replenish our souls.
“Owen told you.”
Finn grimaces. “Yes. But only because he had to.”
“You forced him?”
“No!” Finn leans toward me and then immediately back again.
Then, he stands from the bed, and I catch a glimpse of his bare ass before he pulls on his discarded shorts.
Now partially clothed, he paces the floor, and I watch his movements, trying to figure out the proper reaction to this situation.
Or at least come up with a question to ask that’ll help me understand.
Suddenly, Finn crouches beside me, and when he speaks, the pain in his voice reverberates off my bones. “Owen told me to help me understand the extent of the harm I’d caused. Because I was there the night you were injured, Isla.” He bows his head. “I’m the reason you have nightmares.”