Chapter 52 Carwynn #2
“Thank you,” I said, then angled toward Finley.
“When I was a teenager, David was supposed to drop me off at my prom.” A chuckle escaped as I recalled the ridiculous moment.
”But he was blubbering so hard about his baby growing up so fast that a friend had to come pick me up instead.
Wyatt stayed back to console him. He was that bad. ”
My gaze teasingly met David’s.
David’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “Time moves so quickly there—and it was a highly regarded rite of passage in the Human Realm. I was moved.”
Wyatt let out a chuckle, rubbing David’s back in loving, circular motions. Then he flicked a look toward Finley, hardened but curious.
“And,” Wyatt drawled, lifting a brow in theatrical anticipation. “Who might this be?” His eyes shifted back to me, mock accusatory.
“Oh. Right,” I said, placing a hand on Finley’s arm. “Wyatt, this is my date, Finley. Finley—Wyatt.”
“Consider me her second father,” Wyatt said, offering a smile that was charming, yet razored at the edges.
A blanket of warmth engulfed me. The same way his hugs always did too.
“An honor to meet you.” Finley’s eyes gleamed as he dipped his head slightly. Then he angled toward David. “I know we’ve met already under less fortunate circumstances. But it’s an honor to meet you as well, David.” He bowed a touch lower.
David’s smile wiped clean. His eyes narrowed, brows knit together in a pensive knot.
Great. Usually not the best sign.
“Tell me, Finley,” David started, voice as smooth as unsheathing a sword. “Do you only have good intentions for my daughter?”
Fucking hell. Here we go . . .
Wyatt audibly sighed, forehead hitting his palm. At least we were on the same page.
Finley looked momentarily struck. “Of course,” he answered.
“You genuinely care for her?” David followed up.
“I do care for her.” Finley’s voice went firm.
“You’d stand up for her? Protect her? Never betray her?”
Each question shot like an arrow, swift and unrelenting.
“David!” I snapped. “I’m not a teenager anymore—thought we moved on from interrogating my dates until they pissed themselves.” I stabbed him with a look, hoping it’d call him off.
No such luck.
“Of course. Definitely. I would never want to hurt her,” Finley answered each question—words flying back as quick as David’s had come. He straightened, at attempt to look unbothered.
Then . . . silence.
David observed him like a well-seasoned detective waiting for the tell. That one eye twitch, that one flinch. The one that’d give it all away.
I knew that look. David was sensing something—something unusual. But he remained quiet, stiffening his spine and squaring his shoulders. He was readying to land the final blow.
David’s mouth opened, then paused. Slowly, the words slipped out, staggered, like a polygraph needle jerking in staccato movements.
“Would. You. Die. For. Her?”
“Don’t answer that,” I retorted quickly, raising a hand up to Finley. “Enough. The vetting process is officially—”
“Yes.” Finley’s voice sliced clean through mine, impenetrable.
Someone must have snipped the invisible string that pulled David’s brows so tightly together because they eased, suddenly rising.
“Well, then,” David murmured, dipping his head to Finley in a rare gesture of acknowledgement.
My heart palpitated as my eyes landed on David’s. A wary expression ghosted across his face.
Die—as in, literally die?
David had to go there, didn’t he. Couldn’t reign the overprotectiveness in for one night!
And yet, my mind dissociated for a moment, not being able to process the heaviness of Finley’s answer. He couldn’t have meant it. He shouldn’t have meant it.
My stomach sunk even further to the floor.
I’d lost my goddamn mind. What the hell was I doing letting Finley into my life like this?
Sure, I’d always liked him and there was no denying the pull of attraction.
But now feelings were crossing into dangerous territory—territory I had no business being in right now.
And worse, it wasn’t just him I’d felt the lines blurring with . . .
Fool. Stupid, fool for believing in romance again.
A warm, teasing smile spread across Finley’s kissable lips. He extended a hand to me.
“Make me the luckiest man in the room, and have the first dance with me?”
Damn it.
Without hesitation, my fingers intertwined with his.
“Got a big morning—don’t stay out too late!” Wyatt’s voice was lost to the crowd as we worked our way toward the center of the room.
We stopped just in front of the dais. Finley’s palm burned against my back as he pulled me closer. One of my hands rested on his shoulder, the other remaining firmly in his grasp. We swayed in fluid motions to the symphony. A playful wink was the only warning I had before he spun me.
Soft giggles escaped me.
I hadn’t spoken a word and neither did he, but we didn’t have to.
We felt the unspoken. Something pivotal changed between us, heavy and lacking the right words to describe.
So we danced, clinging to each other as though this moment was some precious, fragile thing.
Like it would slip away if we held on too tightly or shatter it if we let go too soon.
His head slowly bent, a breath warmly brushing my cheek. I closed my eyes. My heart fluttered to the rhythm of the music, flapping like a caged bird in my ribcage.
For a moment, I stilled, then summoned what courage I had to open them. My chin lifted, one inhale away from his. A hand tightened on my back as the other traveled upward, gently wrapping around the base of my neck. He leaned in and—
“Ladies and Gents of Luckland!” The imposing voice boomed across the room.
I jerked back. Finley’s hand dropped.
The musicians halted. Instruments paused mid-motion while others propped them up on their knees.
A hush swept over the guests, a breath winking out candles.
Multiple guards flanked the dais, each dressed in swanky suits with silky green vests—luxury that no doubt, concealed hidden weapons.
Center stage stood a regal man holding a golden goblet raised high.
Dark auburn hair gleamed under the orb lights and his aristocratic nose gave him an heir of quiet authority.
His beard was shaved short, but carved in intricate designs, like meticulous fretwork.
The deep velvet tunic shimmered across his broad frame, fitted a little too perfectly to his build. Hello, surprise biceps. Beautifully knotted leather wrapped around his waist, and from it, a gleaming gold sword decoratively strapped at his side.
Faelad.