Chapter Seventeen
Jessa ran her finger up the center of Finn’s chest, tracing the crosscross scratches and deeper gouges. Were those teeth marks? He was covered in battle-wounds, probably as sore as she was—or worse. But that didn’t ease the hunger that woke her.
The craving she had for this man never failed to astound her. But why now, when they were both bone-weary and grieving? How was it possible to yearn for his touch, ache for the press of his body, the hard thrust of him inside her? The answers weren’t important. Only action. She leaned over him, her leg lifting off his.
His eyes popped open. “Jessa?”
She smiled down at him, a little guilty and more than a little aroused by the smile that creased the corner of his eyes. “Good morning.”
He reached up, twining his hands in her hair. “It is every time I wake to see you in my arms.”
The roughened skin of his palm caressed her cheek tenderly, almost reverently. She bent, tracing his wounds before pressing light kisses against them. “You look like you’ve been chewed up and spit out.”
“Sort of.” He rumbled deliciously. His blue eyes locked with hers, searching her face curiously.
“Finn,” she managed, her breathing accelerating. “Love me.” She pressed his hand to her breast. She traced his thumb against her nipple, arching into the stroke with a shudder. “Please.”
He moved over her, smoothing her hair from her face. His hand continued what she wanted. And when she moaned, he stooped, sucking the tight peak of her breast into his mouth.
This was what she craved, what her body desired. She parted her legs, blushing at the smile he gave her.
“You make me so hard I hurt, Jessa.” His words were rough, rolling over every nerve. “You’re beautiful. So, damn beautiful.” His hand slid up the inside of her thigh, the blade of her hip, the dimple of her belly-button, and up between her breasts. Her heart was thundering when he cupped her breast and bent to suck her deep into his mouth. His teeth grazed the edge of her pebbled nipple, pulling a whimper from deep inside her. He rested his head on her breast, watching his hand slide across the plain of her belly.
When his fingertips traced the inside of her thigh, she parted her legs for him.
She was ready for him, throbbing against the pads of his fingertips. Each stroke of the tight nub of her core had her body tightening and arching toward him. His thumb moved while he slid a long finger slowly inside.
He groaned against her thigh, setting a deep rhythm that had her writhing against him.
She turned into her pillow, muffling the sounds she was making. He threw the pillow across the room and cradled her close, holding her tight against him, chest to chest, hip to hip, his hand never stopping.
“I want to hear you,” he growled out.
“Finn, please.” Her hand slipped between them, clasping his wrist.
“Hold on to me,” he rasped, adding a second finger, the rhythm of his thumb frantically working her tight nub.
He kissed her then, the seal of his lips catching her hoarse cries. She came apart in his hold, his whispered, “I love you,” echoing in her ears.
“Finn.” She felt him, hard and throbbing against her stomach. Her hands slid along his back, gripping his hips in invitation. He’d given her pleasure but she wanted more.
He slid deep with one thrust, his groan broken.
She cried out, struggling with the force of their passion. He made her feel alive, wanted, and cherished. And, looking in his eyes, his love for her was undeniable. Slow, sweet, deep strokes that reminded her she was his. That he was hers.
He was careful with her, teasing the fire that threatened to consume her. He watched her closely, studying her reactions. The friction built, each soft caress, feather-light stroke of his fingertip, pushing her closer to the edge.
“I love you,” he said, his rhythm never changing.
She was lost then, pleasure crashed into her, sweeping her away in rush of sensation.
He followed, kissing her as his body jerked forward. He arched into her, his head thrown, and his moan echoing. He slumped over her, breathing hard and feeling deliciously heavy. She closed her eyes, running her hands up and down his back slowly.
He moved to her side so quickly, Jessa frowned.
But then his hand rested against her stomach. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
She lay there, all the worry and concern from the night before seeping back. Thomas’s face. He’d believed what he’d told her, believed she was in danger. But how could that be true? She felt good, even battered and bruised. Maybe it was just the Others? If they hadn’t had a baby in decades, as Ellen said, they would want to study her and this pregnancy? Unless Ellen wasn’t hoping to save her, just her baby. She swallowed, hating the questions, the anxiety, that consumed her. She covered Finn’s hand, needing comfort.
His thumb brushed across her knuckles.
“I miss Oscar,” she murmured.
Finn smiled. “Me too. We’ll meet them at the refuge later.”
She sat up then, stretching. “Then let’s hurry.” She paused. “Except all I have is a hospital gown.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, loving the hunger in his eyes as he stared at her bare back.
He ran a finger down her spine, crawling forward to press a kiss to the base of her back. She shuddered as his tongue and lips worked up her spine, latching onto the nape of her neck and sucking lightly.
His arms came around her, his fingers sliding up her breasts so his hands could cup them. He groaned, biting her neck gently. “The clothes can wait.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into him, his hands were magic, working her nipples into tight peaks before sliding down her stomach and between her legs. Jessa gripped his thighs, the stroke of his thumb all that mattered. She was coming in seconds. His big hands pressed against her back, urging her onto her knees.
His fingers ran down her back, bracing her hips, and sank home.
She clenched, the girth of his arousal running against every nerve.
The sound he made was amazing. Guttural, raw, and hungry. She arched into him, his frenzy, the grip and slide of his hands, almost desperate. He pummeled into her and she tilted forward, welcoming all of him.
He lost it then. A broken curse, his fingers digging into her hips, as he folded over her. He growled out his climax, muffling the sound against her back.
He fell to his side, tucking her close. “Sorry,” he panted.
She shook her head, unable to speak.
They lay there until breathing was easier.
“I’m going to shower. Join me?” Finn asked, nuzzling the back of her neck.
Jessa sighed, still tingling. “Give me a minute,” she looked over her shoulder. “Not sure my legs will work yet.”
“I’ll get the water going.” He pressed a kiss on her shoulder, the cold air against her skin signaling he was gone.
She curled up tightly, tugging the blanket over her, clinging to the warmth and security Finn inspired.
It faded quickly. The questions and fears that seemed manageable with him nearby turned impossibly overwhelming in his absence. Part of it was his confidence. He knew this world, had lived it. For Jessa, things were still equal parts fairy tale and nightmare.
Right now, she should hold on to the fairy tale. She had Finn. She had Oscar, sweet baby boy. Her family was safe. Why was she letting a lie eat away at the contentment she had every right to?
She stared up at the ceiling, resting her hands on her stomach. Finn said they’d find out when they saw Hollis. But she wanted to talk to Ellen.
It didn’t take long for her to tug on a hotel bathrobe, write Finn a quick note, and head down the hall to Ellen’s room, ignoring the odd looks she got en route. She knocked on the door firmly. “It’s Jessa,” she said.
The door opened immediately, Gentry’s eyes widening. “Where’s Finn?”
“Showering,” she said, brushing past him and into the room.
Ellen sat on the bed, wearing an identical robe. She smiled at Jessa. “We could start a cult. Matching duds. All white. At least we’d be comfortable.”
Jessa sat on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad. I’d have slept easier without all the noises and odors these two made,” she glared at Dante and Gentry. “But my arm’s better. I feel good.” She glanced at Jessa, her smile fading. “You’re keeping me?”
Jessa frowned. “You saved me. I couldn’t leave you there.”
Ellen nodded. “And I thank you for that.”
“But?” Jessa probed.
“But I want to go home,” she said. “To my pack.”
“Not that there’s much left but a large patch of scorched earth,” Gentry said, sipping coffee. “You’d have been part of that barbecue.”
“That place wasn’t my home.” Ellen frowned, her hands clenching in her lap.
“Where is home?” Jessa asked.
Ellen looked at her. “That’s not really any of your business.” She wasn’t hostile, just matter-of-fact. “Will you let me go?”
Jessa looked at Dante. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. He stood, all but barring the door, his arms crossed over his chest. She didn’t know what had been said or decided as far as Ellen was concerned. She was with the Others, someone the pack listened to. It made sense to question her, to glean any information she might have before they freed her.
But the idea of holding Ellen captive––Jessa’s stomach churned. She swallowed, pressing a hand to her belly.
Ellen smiled. “Ah, the joys of breeding.”
Jessa’s smile was thin, the threat of throwing up very real.
“She needs water,” Ellen said to Dante.
Dante sighed, glared at Ellen, and did as she said.
The water helped. A little.
“Thank you,” Jessa said. “You have children.”
The pain in Ellen’s eyes was unbearable. “No.”
Jessa studied her, willing to beg for what she wanted. “Ellen, I need your help. Please. I’d like to think you’re wrong, that I’m fine. That I won’t die. But I don’t want this baby to die. I think you can help me, help the baby.” She sucked in a deep breath, fighting off tears. “I’m begging you to stay. After that, I give you my word you’re free to go.”
Ellen’s eyes blinked in surprise. She hesitated, chewing on her thumbnail and studying Jessa for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she slid forward, pressing her hand against Jessa’s stomach. She sighed, her rigid posture—her fight—fading before Jessa’s eyes.
“For the baby, Jessa.” Ellen looked at her, her gaze hard. “Not for you. Not for him. He is my enemy. You all are. But for the survival of our kind, I will help you.”
Jessa smiled. “Thank you Ellen. Thank you.” She clasped Ellen’s hand in hers, squeezing it softly. Her gaze fell, noting the scars that wrapped around her forearms. Some old, white and thickened, others new—not quite healed. Ellen yanked her hand away, making Gentry leap to his feet and Dante tower over them both.
Ellen leaned back against the headboard, smiling.
But Jessa saw the way the woman’s gaze darted nervously around the room. She pulled her hands into her robe. But it didn’t cover her neck. And Jessa saw just as many scars there.
The pounding on the door made them all jump.
“Open the fucking door now,” Finn’s growl.
Dante opened the door. “Morning to you, too.”
But Finn was staring at Jessa, his expression almost haunted as he crossed the room and tugged her onto her feet. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“What—”
“Cyrus is still out there Jessa,” Finn spoke carefully, his rage barely in check. “Without one of us at your side, I can’t protect you. Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.”
Jessa saw through his anger. Fear rolled off him. Fear for her. Because she’d been so caught up in what she needed she hadn’t stopped to think it through. He was right. Cyrus was out there. So was Byron. And if the farm wasn’t Ellen’s home, that meant there were more places the Others lived. More places and, likely, more Others.
“I won’t, I promise.” She slid her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry.”
…
Finn stood under the water, waiting and waiting… Until he knew something wasn’t right. She wasn’t in the room. And his wolf came undone. Not that he could go tearing around the hotel as a goddamn wolf. He’d tugged on his sweats and run, hoping he’d catch her scent and follow her. It was surprisingly easy. While he’d been worst-casing things, she’d headed straight to the other room. To Ellen. For answers, of course.
He’d leaned against the door, hair wet, shirtless, causing the hotel patrons to smile and whisper as they passed by. But he had to get a grip before he went into the room, had to rein in the urge to fight. There was nothing to fight. Only fear.
They had enough things to fear without his mind getting the best of him. Having Jessa back in his arms helped. But it didn’t erase the very real threats out there.
He hoped Hollis’s investigation would reveal Cara’s cause of death was the car accident. If not–they’d figure it out.
And Cyrus was loose. But the great alpha was afraid and, for the most part, alone. It would take time for him to rally reinforcements. Time Finn would use to learn everything he could about the Others.
Ellen was the key to that.
After they’d boarded the jet he’d charted to Montana, after Jessa had fallen asleep, he crept to the back of the plane to hash things out.
“What’s the plan?” Dante asked.
Finn glanced at Ellen.
Dante nodded.
“I can’t communicate telepathically with my pack so say what you want. I gave your mate my word. I keep my word.” She wouldn’t look at him, she had yet to make any eye contact with him. But he believed her.
“What, exactly, did you agree to?” he asked.
“To help with the whole pregnancy thing,” Dante muttered. “Is Jessa in danger?” his voice lowered.
“I don’t know—”
“Yes,” Ellen shifted.
Finn glared at her. “You know this because?”
Ellen shook her head. “My deal is with her. Not you.”
Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’re going to strike a separate deal.” He sat in front of her, staring at her.
She smiled, looking at her hands. “No thank you.” He heard the snap to her voice, her wolf responding to his order.
But she wasn’t his pack. Was she? Could he make her obey him? Finn gritted his teeth, his wolf desperate to show her who was in charge. “I’m not asking.”
“Maybe we should wait until we land to get under each other’s skin?” Gentry asked, nervous. “Wolves in the sky—not something I’m equipped to handle.”
“Good call,” Dante seconded.
Finn sat back, watching Ellen.
She looked confused. Her gaze shifted from Gentry to Dante, stealing a quick glance his way. “You’re going to listen to them?” her question was tight.
Finn sighed. “I’d rather not. But, yes, I am.” He stood, ignoring her. “We’re heading to the refuge. Hollis can work best there. And, for now, it makes sense for us to be there. But if you need to go, I’ll respect that,” he looked at Dante. “I don’t think Cyrus will try again for a while. He didn’t like what he saw. We scared him. Which means, right now, we have the advantage.”
Dante nodded. “Think I’ll stay for a while.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Gentry added, grinning.
Finn chuckled, shaking his head at the man who’d risked everything for a paycheck. Whether Gentry was a wolf, he’d earned his place in the pack. He’d never force his pack to do something they didn’t want to do. He wasn’t Cyrus. But there was no denying the comfort and relief that having them together—united—provided. He felt stronger, braver, and more confident in himself and his wolf.
He had to believe that Hollis would have the answers they needed. And then, he’d find Cyrus and end this once and for all.