5. Finn

I leave them to it. I know my father ends up in the same situation. He works with wood, not because he’s unintelligent but because he’s a quiet master of his own world.

Built like this, it's often assumed we're only good for heavy lifting. Those attitudes turned my father into an assassin, me into a fighter. I should be relaxing, but I can’t switch off.

Because on the other side of that wall, I remain connected to Naomi. It’s not good. Dark waves of guilt lash me like waves against cliffs.

I know she fell hard for Adrian, but this amount of pain isn’t normal, surely? Her heart lurched at Eleanor, mentioning the Ceremony, is it because she dreads the idea of us having one?

It leaves me turning down food and pacing the grey stone corridors, chatting to the builders, and marvelling at the plans Alpha Zeka and Luna Freya have created.

I thought wolves had to be marked before this level of emotional connection was possible. But I know my mother and father have some running joke about making her fall off a chair one time.

Maybe there is something powerful between Naomi and I, hidden beneath layers of mistrust and distance.

Perhaps it is as simple as our wolves are just utterly desperate to bond.

Midnight strikes before the first translators give up. Wren and Leona step out of the gloomy space, stretching. “It’s going to take forever. It's impossible,” Leona groans, whilst Wren rubs her jet-black eyes, always unnerving under the torchlight.

“What have you been up to?” Leona snaps. “We could have used you in there!”

I choose not to snap back. The woman is cranky as fuck but I’m sure it relates to Naomi, not me. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Wren adds, “We've not found any Dark Arts, I’m checking for links to Gustav too, but I want those dangerous texts out of the way before we open to students.”

“Of course. Let me know what to look out for,” sharing a weary hi-five with Wren as she walks past. “There’s nothing to find,” Leona mutters before Wren takes her arm and guides her down the echoing corridors.

I’ve explored this whole castle today. This battle was where I knew my destiny was to serve Shadowlands.

Especially the white double-height ballroom where deranged hybrid wolves met their bloodspattered end. The royal suites too, where Luna Freya underwent something she will never talk about, in order to slay her mate.

Now they will be bright and airy dorms, the ballroom a dining hall.

But right now, the castle is dark and cold. From what I can see, only one meagre lantern is left lit in the library.

“Come on, Naomi, we’ll hit it again first thing tomorrow,” Hayden tries, but she isn’t moving. I don’t blame her. Not if she’s waited this long to start digging. “Can’t leave one person in here, not with the lanterns.”

“I’ll stay,” I offer, setting foot inside the library for the first time in hours. To my surprise, her face flushes with colour. Something like relief washes over her features.

Goddess, has she missed me?

Hayden quickly bids us goodnight. Under the weak orange lights, he and Wren look like they could rule the underworld.

“So, where do you want me,” I start, leaning against the door frame of the library. The huge pile of books looks unchanged to me. A dusty miserable pile.

“Do you mind relighting these?” Naomi remarks flatly. Her eyes are fixed downwards, as her hand gesturing up at the spent lanterns as I notice the desk is now covered in dozens of pages of scribblings. Scrappy paper bookmarks stick out of ancient texts. Her skin looks pale, contrasted with the dark green of her tight, sleeveless top.

“Not a problem,” striding over and opening the first glass casing. My huge feet take out a pile of books, causing me to almost stumble. She totally notices, too, her penwork slowing.

I’m close enough to get a hit of her nutty, gentle almond scent, my eyes closing as Adamo surges forward. Goddess it is the perfect mix of comfort and desire. “Find anything yet?”

Naomi sighs wearily before sitting back in her chair. “Only that I’m seriously slow at this. Leona is flying through it.”

“You’ll get there.”

“Maybe when I’m a hundred.”

“Goddess, you’ll be even harder work then.” I scoff, focusing on the lantern.

She chuckles, “Oh, no you’ll have died well before then-”

“By your hand, no doubt,” I add, blowing out the taper and closing the illuminated glass cage. “I mean, if I get home this week in one piece, it will be a victory.”

“Don’t worry, Cillian made me promise not to maim you before we set off,” and though I can’t see her face, I know she’s grinning.

“Hmm he didn’t make me promise anything,” I answered, moving behind her a few paces to sort out the next black iron lantern.

“Because he knows you won’t listen to him anyway?” she clips back.

“Uhm, Head Beta here? Show a little respect there, Kharkov,” I mutter before instantly ruining my smugness by burning myself. “Fucking hot oil,” I hiss, sucking on my reddened thumb.

Her shimmering head of copper hair finally turns around. Arched eyebrows drink in the sight of me essentially sucking my thumb. Her pink lips are quickly pursed as she tries to conceal a smile.

“Uh, show me then you big baby,” she mutters, pushing back the blue leather chair and pile of papers. Without a thought she wraps her fingers around my wrist, yanking my arm downwards.

WIth purposefully little mercy she inspects the red welt under the light. Her fingers on my bare wrist are firing pure lightning into my nervous system.

/Goddess she needs us. We need her./ Adamo roars and it's deafening. Beyond common sense and logic. We aren’t in love, we don’t even know each other, but if she lets go, I know i’ll be crushed.

New sensations I've never really considered are creeping in. I want to run my hand through those glossy auburn locks. I want to spar with her.

Have a real conversation about something that matters. Hear about her child. Have a commitment ceremony beneath the huge three-fruited tree at Cragstone. Find out if she has any battle scars beneath the insanely tight leather that has tormented my mind all day.

Craving upon craving, all of which my body reacts to.

What she feels I have no idea. Silently, with her free hand, she slowly forms a circle with her thumb and forefinger before flicking my injury with malice.

“What the hell!” I yelp as she releases me with a quick smirk.

“That’s for breaking me off my work, Penkov,” her voice laced with sarcasm. Her dark, swirling chocolate eyes are flickering with yellow.

“Then maybe take it as a sign. Do you need some rest?”

“Hmm,” she murmurs, but a look back at the pile of papers with that grimace over her face decides it. I reopen the lanterns and quickly snuff out the flames, plunging us into darkness.

“Come on, this is different to fighting. You’ll miss something important if your eyes are tired.”

I attempt to manoeuvre my clumsy ass through the darkness back to the corridor, but Naomi doesn’t say a word. When I turn to check on her she’s in the same place, now leaning against the desk, looking out of the window at the moonlit valley below.

The pale glow lights up her features gently. There's a vulnerability I can’t explain. I doubt anyone has ever seen the fearsome Naomi Kharkov wistful before.

I should leave, but something twists in my ribs at her sad, lonely expression. It reminds me of myself, back at the packhouse clutching a beer and wondering where the hell she was.

Sighing, I return and lean against the window casing, sharing the moonlit view. If I want her to talk, staring at her like I want to grab her won’t help. I know that much about her, at least.

“Why are you messing with me, Finn?”

I swear the air between us just crackled. Two mates, goddess-bound souls, not even friends really, but her gaze burning into my back. She’s not looking out of the window at all.

“I’m not trying to.”

“Don’t lie. The feelings, throwing all these emotions at me, sending me off balance.”

“The same as you with the bike ride today?”

“That wasn’t emotional…that was just superior tactics,” she declares confidently.

Suddenly, I get a whole new feeling from her. Fuck is this what confident Naomi feels like?

This is what I’m meant to uncover, confident glowing Naomi. It's a rush of pure euphoria. My broad shoulders flex, trying to contain the unruly power behind my matebond.

“You’re doing it again,” she warns. “Stop it.”

I can’t help myself. I turn to face her.

My hands are on my hips, my size stealing the moonlight from the window to cast her into shadows. There are only a few inches of space and her glinting sunshine iris shards between us. “Stop what, feisty little Kharkov?”

“Forcing your deranged thoughts on me,” but that confident tone is less sure, her pink lips are slightly parted. I know because I can’t help my gaze drinking in her delicate, vulnerable expression.

In a voice that I’m hoping sounds sincere I ask, “Tell me, what do you think I’m feeling right now?”

“You’re just thinking of me like a piece of meat. Something to win.”

I dip my head a little lower, enough to get a hit of her nutty, warm almond scent and to whisper in her ear. “Wrong.”

She’s annoyed, her gaze flitting to the library door, yellow intrigue still flashing.

“I could cook a meal for ten on my legs and ass, you’ve made me feel like it was on fire today. So whatever sordid little jack-off weirdness you’ve got floating around just stop it.”

“Kharkov you’re still wrong,” my voice dropping lower, softer. Every time I call her by her surname her throat bobs.

Am I making her hold her breath? It's just us. Alone in a dusty, dark room surrounded by nothing put painful pasts and cursed, outlawed magic texts.

“Don’t lie to me Finn,” she barely breathes.

“I thought of you like my mate earlier. That’s all.”

“What does that even mean!” Naomi snaps, except her voice fails, cracking at the last. Her eyes are fixed back towards mine in the darkness. Neither of us yield.

For the first time I wish I were shorter. At her eye level. All the easier to kiss her. Seize and conquer her instead of looming large. /Risk losing entire genitals if you try that/ Adamo warns sagely.

“Everything. A world we exist in together?”

When that got zero response I had to concede. “Plus, yes you looked good. Really. Dangerously good-”

Rolling her eyes, “Leona wore the same-”

“No. Not like you. You have your own way of doing things,” surprising myself at the force of my reply.

/She has no fucking idea/ Adamo drawls slowly as I try my best not to ruin this moment. All the feelings I’ve asked my wolf to dull down are roaring back to life, and right now Naomi, my distant, reluctant mate is pure perfection.

“Leona didn't, has never made my wolf go insane…” losing my train of thought as once again in the quiet of the library I hear her breath catching. I’ve got to make something out of this moment.

“...fiesty little Kharkov. If you had any idea what your strutting about did to me today, you’d be the one trying to apologise. I’ve spent two year fucking numb and now-” but she cut me off.

My ability to speak vanished because instead of shoving a blade to my face her hand shot to my cock.

/FUCK/ Adamo immediately panics as in the space of half a second we plan for a life of tragic eunuchry and zero sex.

But instead, her hand presses against my pants, feeling the solid, immediately throbbing length that her confident aura made spring into life.

“Hmm,” is all she says but every move she makes only makes me harder, meeting her touch, begging for more. Now it's my turn to hold my breath.

“That’s all you. All the inches that I know you’re trying to count,” grimacing as her pressing almost turns painful.

“I’m still trying to find it-” she attempts to joke but I roughly grab her wrist and press her hand flat against the solid length that’s hardening every second. Now it's her turn to gasp.

“This isn’t a joke,” I growl. It’s the most alive I’ve felt in fucking years. “Don’t you start lying either Kharkov, don't pretend your wolf isn’t telling you these feelings matter.”

Looking up at me, her face pale and serious in the moonlight she stammers. “What are you doing Finn, why did you even come here with us?”

“Because like you, I’m stubborn as hell.”

“Sounds like a bad match for a matebond to me,” her voice barely a whisper but her hand keeps touching me, forcing me to swallow back a groan. With my free hand I tilt her chin upwards. I want to see those sunflower yellow irises.

Goddess there they are. Beaming, powerfully yellow.

“Not me. I think it makes us unstoppable…if we want to be.”

Still staring up at me, I’m not even pressing her hand anymore, she’s staying right where I put her. I have no doubt my irises are fully gold for her.

All I know is the cloud of sadness that’s hung over her today has been replaced with something warmer, something that is burrowing itself into my chest. I want to protect the woman who needs no protection.

Her almond scent thickens in the air, so still holding her chin I gently stroke her face with my finger and ask the question that's been bugging me all day.

“Why are you so sad?”

“What?”

“I can feel all this swirling…guilt? Misery? It's almost constant.”

“Finn you don’t have a clue-”

“When will you have grieved enough? When will you let yourself be happy?”

A swift smack across the face saw me left alone in the library nursing a stinging cheek and a raging hardon.