Chapter 20 Carwynn
CARWYNN
He wasn’t in his usual swanky Luckmen attire—fitted suit, an occasional cap, and those criminally sexy suspenders. The signature uniform for Lochlainn’s thugs? Mobsters? Dogs?
No, today he chose to wear something far more dangerous. Fitted dark pants and a green shawl-collared sweater. Casual, fuzzy-soft, painfully adorable.
I was tempted to pinch his cheeks. Though which ones, I wasn’t entirely sure.
“Hey, Fin.” I pressed my lips together, fighting the sheepish smile creeping in.
“Hey, Professor,” he teased. “Can I walk you home?”
With a whisper of thanks, I stepped through the door.
“I’m actually headed into the city,” I said, swiping a stray hair out of my face. “Wanted to catch Lochlainn and see if he’d give me access to his collection today. It’d be a huge help with the research I’m working on.”
“Oh, all right.” Finley smiled, but I didn’t miss the crease in his brow. “I’m happy to escort you, if you’d like. Unless you were hoping to go—” A shadow of a frown appeared. “—alone to see him.”
One decision, that’s all it took. One stupid, drunk decision to go home with Lochlainn that night—and now I’ve created an awkward tension between Finley and me.
I was new and had only just met him, not knowing the full extent of who Luckland’s Kingpin really was.
If I could, I’d take it back in a heartbeat.
Erase my notch in Lochlainn’s bedpost. A one-night stand turned badge of shame.
“No!” I shot out a little too quickly. “I mean—no, I have zero interest in spending time with Lochlainn. Just need the archives. So, I’d love your company.” My mouth pulled into a genuine smile.
A dimple slowly appeared in his cheek. “All right then.” With a nod, he stepped ahead, leading the way.
The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, a gentle and warm caress over my skin that fought off the chill of the day.
As we strolled through The Mounds, the world buzzed in the midday routine.
Patrons popped in and out of shops, people gabbing on benches, and the smell of freshly baked spiced apple cake lingered in the air.
A handful of students gathered outside in the grass, enjoying an early pint from the pubs.
People around here were just—happy. It was rare to find a gloomy face in this part of Luckland. The Mounds really was a hidden gem.
I ran my fingers over a beautiful multi-colored stained glass bookstore window. The way it shimmered looked like the magic had been captured inside.
My heart swelled with the sudden realization—David picked this place as a home for me. Wanted me to have this. All of it. And for that, I was grateful.
Finley’s warm hand occasionally settled on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowded parts of the walkway. Although he’d done it before, it felt like a new sensation. One I found myself enjoying a little too much.
As we left the bustle behind, striding deeper into the cover of forest, I could feel the mood shift around us. Like finally being alone had stiffened the air, our bodies going rigid with it.
I walked half a pace ahead of him, trying to pretend I wasn’t completely overthinking what to say.
It wasn’t an awkward silence, just . . . heavy.
My chest tightened as the unspoken words between us weighed it down. Along with any feelings I’d buried. But I wouldn’t go there. Things were messy enough as it was.
Would it break the ice if I cracked a Dullahan joke? No, probably too soon. Maybe thank him for checking in on me?
A deep grunt ended up killing the silence as Finley cleared his throat. His voice came from behind me—soft, but I could sense the nervousness. Guess I wasn’t the only one.
“I came to check on you after what happened. And again, a couple days after that. Your roommate said she’d give you the messages.” He paused. “Then seeing you at the meadow springs—I was just glad to see you were okay.” Green eyes shifted as he gripped the back of his neck.
My feet didn’t stop padding forward. Probably trying to keep up with my hammering heartbeat.
A sharp curse flung under Finley’s breath. A gentle hand suddenly grabbed my wrist, spinning me around to look at him.
One palm came up to my cheek as concerned eyes locked on mine. They were so full of emotion it sent a thousand flutters through my stomach.
“Carwynn, I’m so sorry about everything that happened.
Seeing you dragged into those woods—not being able to get to you.
I’ve never been so bloody panicked in my life.
And then not seeing you after.” He halted with a sigh, clearly holding back his frustration that I’d avoided him. “Are you—are you really all right?”
I rested my hand over his, urging my mouth to open.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.
I—I just needed some time to process everything.
” I slid the left side of my sweater down, exposing the newly branded mark.
“I’m okay though. See? Fully healed.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was unnaturally tight.
“Aside from this shiny, new battle scar.”
His eyes raked over the red marks. First there was anger, but it turned to curiosity, then confusion.
I wasn’t ready to explain everything—the way my body healed so quickly, the Cherubs who rifted to me like little paramedic angels, the man who wasn’t just a father figure to me, but a Lord. It was all too much right now. And I wanted this moment—quiet and safe.
Finley’s face went unreadable as he took a step closer.
Slowly, warm fingers delicately dipped under the fabric, tracing the scar. But then his hand migrated to the back of my neck, brushing the edge of the black satin choker against my throat—the other scar he didn’t know about. The one that cut too deep to talk about.
A flash of the memory paralyzed my mind. I stilled.
Then, his fingers slipped into my hair, entangling. Warm breath stroked across my forehead, a whisper of a kiss that had my eyes fluttering shut.
I was nowhere near short, but he had a good six inches on me. The kind of height that made women suddenly take up tree climbing as a hobby.
My head tilted up and I sucked in a breath of courage—the same breath that’d been stolen away by nerves.
I should stop this. Not because I didn’t want it, but because I did. And that terrified me more.
This was a different type of gentleness. The kind that came without strings, without pain hiding underneath. His touch was raw honesty.
We’d never been this close before.
Heat pulsed off of him in thick, magnetic waves. His scent aromatic and woodsy, grounding something primal in me. It was fogging my thoughts, untangling my restraint.
His other hand trailed up my back, slow and sensual, pressing firmly between my shoulder blades.
My insides flipped, then twisted. Screams internally echoed that this was a bad idea. I still had bleeding wounds no one could see that needed tending to.
But my body moved anyway. My palms flattened against his chest, and I bundled his sweater in my fists.
What was I doing?
Sanity slipped. My body responded, breath catching and heart pounding like morse code to his. His embrace enveloped me, my back arching to meet it. A thumb lovingly grazed my cheek, like I was something precious to behold.
I wanted to believe that . . . if only for a second.
A quiet, menacing growl rumbled in his chest as I pressed closer, his mouth a single breath away, closing the space.
I should be stopping this.
I didn’t know if this was right, but damn. His touch felt good, doing something to me I didn’t think I’d have the strength to fight off. It’d been forever since someone touched me like this, since I’d let someone touch me like this.
Technically, that last someone had been Lochlainn, but that was different. We’d gotten drunk, our mouths somehow finding each other’s—among other places. It was desperate, teasing, fun. The kind of sex that was disheveled and messy. A thrill to fill the void of loneliness.
But with Finley, this was incomparable. There was raw, unfiltered emotion behind the way he was looking at me.
I felt like a stick of dynamite, seconds away from catching fire if he didn’t kiss me. But that incinerating heat became deeper. More scorching. More destructive.
Tug.
Tug.
Tug.
My inkling flared. Stabbing in warning . . . or irritation. I could feel the ancient creature inside me stirring. Snarling.
My hands moved before I could think, shoving Finley back.
“Wait!” I panted.
He staggered, but he didn’t unlock one arm from holding me in place.
“Sorry—” he gasped. “I thought—” He looked away, deflated. “Sorry.” A slow exhale left him.
I untangled myself from his arms, already feeling the flush in my cheeks.
“No, I should’ve stopped before it got too heated.
” I held up a hand, halting him from interjecting.
“Not just because of the teacher-student thing,” I stated quickly.
“But because I care for you, Finley. Really, I do.” I gestured a hand between us.
“I want to. I just—I’m not in a good place right now. ”
His disappointment hit fast. Like watching a little kid drop their ice cream cone in slow motion.
Dragging a hand through short, tousled locks, he blew out a defeated breath. Then, to my surprise—he laughed.
“I’m an eejit,” he groaned, shaking his head. “Ya just had one of the most traumatic experiences and here I am, trying to stick my fecking tongue down ya throat like a complete gobshite!”
He gave a small, tight shrug.
“I don’t know what came over me.” Face wincing, he continued, “Well, I do—but forgive me. Really, there’s no need to explain. I get it.”
“Well,” I laughed. “Takes one to know what. It’s all right.”
This golden retriever of a man was too much for my dysfunctional heart to take.
I wanted to give in so, so badly. My body was obviously all-in.
But apparently my annoying, magical instincts had their own opinions.
They practically rolled their eyes at me, lecturing: Why don’t we practice wielding our abilities first before wielding what’s between our legs?
Finley winked.
“As long as we’re idiots together,” he said as his head jerked down the path. “Come on, I’ll get ya to Lochlainn’s. Even promise to keep my hands in my pockets.” An intoxicating smile kissed his lips.
Some wicked part of me was disappointed when he kept that promise the whole way there.