Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
FINN
We’re somewhere around the fifth day mark now, and we’re all exhausted.
Sol is yet to knot, or even fuck Lani, and I can tell he’s running out of patience with it.
He tries – carefully, every time, like he’s weighing her needs against the limits of his own body – but she shuts him down without fail.
She’ll take the softer things from him. The purring.
The slow touches. The grounding presence he brings into the nest, like something solid she can anchor herself to.
But the second he tries to push past that, to give her more, she turns on him with a sharpness that would be vicious if it weren’t so… controlled.
It’s honestly a little entertaining to watch.
Mostly because it’s not directed at me.
She saves that particular edge for Sol and Kai, snapping at them one minute and dragging them back in the next, like she can’t quite decide whether she wants to fight them or ruin them. With Koa, she softens. With me…
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand over my face.
With me, she waits.
And that’s worse.
Because I can feel it building.
Every time she looks at me, every time she shifts closer without quite closing the distance, every time she asks – quiet at first, then less so – for me to bite her, to finish what we’ve all started.
I’ve given her everything else. My hands, my mouth, my knot, over and over again until I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had her shaking beneath me, breathless and open and mine in every way that doesn’t matter in the long term.
But I haven’t marked her.
Haven’t sealed it.
Haven’t crossed the one line that would make this permanent.
Something in me won’t let me.
It doesn’t make sense. Not when every instinct I’ve got is pulling in the opposite direction, urging me to take what’s already being offered, to lock it in before anything has the chance to shift or break or be taken away.
I want it. Christ, I want it enough that it’s a constant ache under my skin, a tension that never fully releases no matter how many times she comes apart in my hands.
But every time she asks—
I hesitate.
And she’s noticing.
Of course she is.
Lani doesn’t miss anything, not even like this, not even when the heat has her stretched thin and hypersensitive and running on instinct more than thought. If anything, it makes her sharper, more focused on the things that matter.
On the things I’m not giving her.
Across the room, Kai swears under his breath as Lani twists out of his grip, her laugh bright and breathless as she dodges him, only to end up half-colliding with Koa instead.
He catches her easily, steadying her with a hand at her waist, his voice low and coaxing as he murmurs something I don’t quite catch.
“Shower,” Kai mutters, running a hand through his hair. “You said you’d shower.”
“I said I’d consider it,” Lani shoots back, already leaning into Koa like she belongs there. “Different thing.”
“You’re not negotiating basic hygiene, brat,” Kai says, but there’s no real bite in it.
“I am if you want me in there,” she replies, her tone softening just enough to make it clear she knows exactly what she’s doing. “You know my terms.”
Kai lets out a breath that’s half a laugh, half defeat. “Of course you’ve got terms.”
Koa’s mouth curves faintly, his hand still steady at her back. “We can manage terms.”
I look away.
Not because I don’t want to watch – god knows I do – but because I need the space. Need the distance before she turns that focus on me again and I’m forced to either give her what she’s asking for or explain why I won’t.
And I don’t have a good answer for that.
I don’t have any answer for it that doesn’t sound like weakness.
“You’re stalling.”
Sol’s voice is quiet when it comes, low enough that it doesn’t carry across the room. He doesn’t look at me immediately, his attention still loosely on Lani as Kai finally manages to steer her toward the bathroom with Koa backing him up, her protests half-hearted at best.
“I’m pacing,” I reply, just as quietly.
He huffs a breath that might almost be a laugh. “You’re lying.”
I don’t argue.
There’s no point.
The door to the bathroom shuts behind them, Kai’s voice muffled as Lani’s laughter follows it, the sound bright and unrestrained in a way that makes something in my chest tighten.
Sol shifts slightly beside me, careful of his side, but there’s nothing uncertain about the way his attention settles fully on me now.
“What is it?” he asks.
Simple.
Direct.
No room to deflect.
I take a second before answering, not because I don’t know, but because putting it into words makes it real in a way I’ve been avoiding.
“My father,” I say finally.
The silence that follows isn’t surprised.
Of course it isn’t.
Sol’s seen enough. Heard enough. He doesn’t need it spelled out for him to understand where this is going.
“He doesn’t get a say here,” Sol replies, his voice steady.
“He’ll take one anyway,” I say, sharper than I intend. “You know he will. He always does.”
Sol’s gaze doesn’t shift. “Only if you let him.”
I let out a slow breath, tension pulling tight through my shoulders. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” he says. “You just don’t like the version of it where you push back.”
I glance at him then, irritation flickering briefly. “Easy for you to say.”
“No,” he corrects quietly. “It isn’t. But I’d still do it.”
There’s no bravado in it.
No challenge.
Just fact.
That steadiness does something uncomfortable to my chest, pressing against a truth I’ve been circling for days without touching.
“I’m not worried about me,” I say after a moment. “I can deal with him.”
Sol’s brow lifts slightly. “Then what’s the problem?”
I look back toward the closed bathroom door, toward the sound of her voice filtering faintly through it, softer now but still there.
“She doesn’t deserve that,” I say, my voice quieter. “The fallout. The attention. Him.”
Sol doesn’t respond immediately.
When he does, it’s measured.
“She’s already in it,” he says. “All of it. You think staying back now protects her?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t know.
Or maybe I do, and I just don’t like it.
“She’s asking for you,” he continues, still calm, still steady. “Not just what you can give her in pieces. All of it.”
I drag a hand over my face again, exhaling slowly. “I know.”
“Then stop pretending this is about protecting her,” Sol says, his voice still quiet but firmer now. “It’s about you not wanting to deal with what happens after.”
That hits closer than I’d like.
I don’t respond immediately, my gaze fixed on nothing as the weight of it settles properly.
He’s not wrong.
I’ve been framing it differently, telling myself I’m holding back for her sake, that I’m keeping her out of something she shouldn’t have to deal with. But the truth is less clean than that.
I don’t want to deal with my father.
I don’t want to bring him into this.
And marking her means I can’t keep those two things separate anymore.
Sol shifts slightly again, his expression unreadable but his presence solid beside me.
“She’s not fragile,” he says. “You know that.”
I huff a quiet breath. “No. She’s not.”
“She’ll handle it,” he continues. “With or without you.”
That lands.
Clean.
Because that’s the part I can’t ignore.
With or without me.
She’s already chosen.
Already stepped into this fully, without hesitation, without holding herself back the way I am.
And if I keep doing this—
I’m the one standing outside it.
Not protecting her.
Just…absent.
Something in my chest tightens, then shifts, the hesitation that’s been sitting there for days finally starting to crack under the weight of everything I’ve been avoiding.
“I don’t want him near her,” I say, quieter now.
Sol’s gaze holds mine. “Then don’t let him be.”
Simple.
Brutal in its simplicity.
I let out a slow breath, something settling into place that’s been circling without landing for too long.
“I finally have something worth fighting for,” I say, the words quieter than I expect them to be.
Sol nods once, like that’s the only answer he needed.
“Then fight,” he says.
The bathroom door opens.
Lani steps out first, damp, flushed, wrapped in nothing but heat and scent and something that pulls at every instinct I’ve got left. Kai follows, still muttering something under his breath, Koa quieter but no less focused.
Her gaze finds mine immediately.
Of course it does.
“You. Knot. Now,” she demands. I bite back a smile.
I’ll give her my knot. But I fully intend to distract her with pleasure first. She’s been so impatient, we’ve hardly been able to get a taste of her, but that changes now.
I want her slick flooding my face. I need to drown in her desire before I can give her what she really craves: the promise of forever.
“Such a good omega,” I coo. “Did you enjoy your shower? You smell delicious.”
I can see the way her pupils dilate, the subtle shift in her scent as it wraps around me, drawing me closer.
She’s impatient, but there’s a hint of desperation underneath it all, a need that goes beyond the physical.
She wants this, wants me, and it’s a heady feeling, knowing that I have this power over her.
But I want to savour this. I want to draw out every moment, every touch, every gasp until she’s shaking and begging for more. I want to give her everything she’s been craving, everything she deserves.
I step closer, my voice low and steady. “And what do you want, Lani? Say it again.”
She growls softly, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “You know what I want.”
I do. But I want to hear her say it. I want to hear her say it again, to feel the weight of her need in every syllable. I want to be sure that this is real, that she’s not just caught up in the heat but truly wants this, wants me.
“I want your knot,” she says, her voice steady despite the flush on her skin, the slight tremble in her limbs. “I want your mark.”