Chapter 36 Croía
My lashes stick together as my eyes flutter open.
The world swims before me in a haze. I blink once, twice, forcing the blur to sharpen.
I see the faint outline of a face hovering above me, shadowed but achingly familiar.
My chest rises unevenly as a stuttered breath claws its way free.
When my vision steadies, reality comes crashing back with it.
“Fionn!” The name rips from my throat, raw and desperate. Panic clawing its way through me like barbed wire. My voice cracks on the edges, the sound echoing off stone as my heart hammers.
When Fionn’s cold muzzle nudges against my arm, the panic in my chest loosens, crumbling into something softer.
Relief floods me so hard it makes me dizzy, and before I can think better of it, I’m wrapping my arms around his massive neck.
My fingers sink into his coarse fur, clinging as though he’s an anchor in this nightmare.
I forget, foolishly, that he’s a hellhound, a creature that could rip me to shreds without effort. All I can think of is that he’s alive.
Fionn lets out a low, rumbling whine, the sound vibrating through his chest as his tongue rasps over my cheek and jaw.
It’s sloppy, warm, and utterly unrelenting, as if he’s trying to smother me with affection.
I laugh with half a sob caught in the sound, pushing at his massive head, but only weakly.
He doesn’t relent, he’s nudging me backwards onto the chair as though he’s making sure I’m real, that I’m still here.
Each lick feels desperate, frantic, and it hits me… he thought he’d lost me too.
Out of the corner of my eye, a shadow shifts, sliding along the stone wall as though it has weight and purpose.
My laughter dies in my throat, replaced with a sharp inhale.
Fionn notices it too, his tongue pauses mid-lick, his head snapping up, as his ears prick up, a low growl vibrating against my ribs.
The air thickens, heavy with something I can’t name, and dread coils in my stomach.
Nílimid inár n-aonar. (We’re not alone.)
Braiden steps out of the shadows, and my breath hitches.
He’s naked, every inch of him carved from muscle and filth.
His skin is streaked with dirt, and he has patches of dried blood splatter across his arms and chest. His eyes, those dark green eyes I know so well, now burn with specks of gold.
A sign of something feral and not completely human.
The room feels smaller with him in it, charged and dangerous.
Even Fionn lowers his head, his teeth bared in warning, though his body trembles as if he isn’t sure whether to protect me or bow to whatever Braiden has become.
Slowly, I push myself up, every movement heavy with caution, my hand stay tangled in Fionn’s fur for strength.
My gaze lifts, locking with Braiden’s. His eyes are wild and dark, alive with something both terrifying and magnetic.
For a heartbeat, the world tilts, the walls, the air, even the shadows bend around him.
My chest tightens, not from fear, but from the familiar pull thrumming through me.
Pulling me toward the ghost of the man I knew, that’s buried somewhere in the monster standing before me.
“Braiden, is that really you?” The words scrape out of my throat, trembling in hope.
He doesn’t answer, he just stands there, silent.
His chest rising and falling like a caged beast. I step closer, releasing Fionn’s fur, the soft padding of my socks muffled against the cold stone.
Fear doesn’t touch me, not with Braiden standing there, alive, even if shadows cling to him like a second skin.
My eyes stay fixed on his, steady, unflinching, as I close the space between us.
His voice is low and rough, but it carries the certainty that he’s really here. “It’s me,” he says, and I can feel the weight of those words settle between us, grounding me. My hands grip him with an almost violent insistence, dragging him closer, forcing our mouths together.
The kiss isn’t tender. It’s possessive, sharp, leaving nothing but the raw, dark ache of desire between us.
Every pulse in my body thrums against his, a dark rhythm of want I can’t contain.
My fingers dig into the nape of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, and I taste the metallic tang of blood lingering on his skin, heightening the craving that’s already coiling in my gut.
I don’t care about gentleness, every motion is urgent.
A storm of desire that’s both mine and his, dragging us further into the shadows of need.
His hands hesitate at first, then grip my waist, responding with the same feral intensity.
The air between us shimmers with heat, each movement a dangerous game where neither of us wants to back down.
Every gasp, every shudder, feeds the dark hunger that has taken hold, and I realize I don’t just want him, I need him, in every sense the word can carry.
The sharp exhale from Fionn cuts through the tension, and we’re forced apart, our lips lingering mere inches.
My chest heaves, every nerve on fire, as I turn to face him.
I watch Fionn rise, his tail lashing in mild annoyance.
He shoots us a look that is equal parts judgment and exasperation, before padding silently toward the door and slipping out, leaving a charged emptiness in the air that hums with unspent desire.
Braiden’s warm breath dances along my ear, making my spine arch and my pulse hammer.
I can feel the weight of him behind me, the press of his body.
It’s both intoxicating and terrifying all at once.
His hand slides along my side, teasing, while his lips move lower, brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.
My chest tightens, and I can’t stop the soft whimper that escapes me.
Every nerve in my body feels as though it’s on fire.
All I can focus on is the delicious closeness of him.
His fingers dig slightly into my waist as he presses closer.
The heat of his body radiating through mine.
Every brush of his lips against my skin sends electric jolts across my nerves, making it impossible to think.
Needing so much more, I press closer, turning back into him.
I let my fingers trail hungrily over the ridges of his chest, memorising every line and curve.
My hand snakes up over his shoulder, trembling with desire, before threading through the dust-dampened strands of his hair.
I grip hard, pulling him down with a feral urgency.
Our lips meet with a fire I can barely contain. He tastes like heat and danger. I cling to him as if letting go would mean losing everything. Our tongues meet, urgent and demanding, every motion igniting a storm of hunger inside me.