Chapter 11
Raven
Finlay hasn’t movedinto the apartment in Malivore with us yet, and it’s been over a week since I found out he’s mine. The separation gnaws at me constantly, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Every night I go to sleep in my lair knowing he’s somewhere else, and it feels fundamentallywrong.
We need to mark him,my dragoness growls in my head, her voice carrying a frustrated demand that’s been building for days.
“Phoenixes are a secretive bunch,”Solaris supplies unhelpfully, his Scottish accent rolling through my mind with infuriating calm.
“Geez, you two—why don’t either of you tell me something actually helpful?” I stroke Solaris’s warm egg shell as I fly toward my father’s office in the Aurelian Conservatory. The wind whips through my hair and buffets my wings as I navigate the thermals, the afternoon sun warm on my scales.
I land on the wide rail of the balcony outside his glass doors with barely a sound. I fold into a perch like a gargoyle, balanced with my wings open and resting on the rail for stability. Through theglass, I can see two figures inside—and who happens to be in my father’s office? Finlay.
My heart does a complicated flip in my chest at the sight of him. He’s gesturing as he speaks to Dad, his flame-colored hair catching the light streaming through the windows. The professional cut of his suit emphasizes his lean, elegant frame.
I remain perfectly still, watching him with predatory focus. Finlay finally turns around and sees me outside through the glass. His honey eyes widen with immediate concern, and he rushes to the double doors, throwing them open with enough force that they bang against the stops.
He reaches for me without thinking, his hands warm and sure, and pulls me down off the rail as if I weigh nothing. “Are you okay? Do you need me? Are you hurt?” The worry wavering in his tone makes my heart thud harder in my chest, warmth spreading through me at his obvious concern.
I notice he’s holding me longer than the first time he held me—his arms secure around my waist, our bodies pressed close enough that I can feel his heart beating. Purring softly, I press the bridge of my nose to the warm skin under his jaw and smile, breathing in his scent of campfire smoke and cinnamon. “I’m all better now.”
I hear my father clear his throat pointedly behind Finlay, and he releases me like I’ve suddenly set him on fire. His cheeks flush with embarrassment as he steps back, putting proper distance between us.
Shaking my head with amusement, I move to Dad and hug him too, pressing my face against his chest. “Hi, Daddy.” I beam upat him, purring softly so that it’s more felt than heard—a rumble that vibrates through both our chests.
“What brings you here, my most precious one?” He smiles down at me, his sapphire eyes so like mine carrying paternal affection and curiosity.
“Well...” I step away from both males and rest my hand on the egg carrier strapped securely across my chest. The leather is warm from being pressed against my body, and I can feel Solaris’s egg pulsing gently beneath my palm.
“Don’t back down now. Ask your questions of your mate,”Solaris encourages, making his orange shell pulse and vibrate more strongly against my ribs.
My dad smiles watching me interact with my cursed egg, and I can see recognition in his expression—he must be remembering how it was for Mom with her eggs. Finlay tilts his head, looking at the egg with fascination. “What question?” His eyes are twin flames burning bright as he looks at me, the honey color seeming to glow from within.
“You heard him?” I look down at Solaris in surprise, then back up at Finlay. I hadn’t realized phoenixes could hear cursed eggs speaking.
“Of course. I’m a mythic, after all.” He lifts his chin with aristocratic pride, the gesture making him look as if he stepped out of a Renaissance painting.
“A move like that would have pissed Mina off. Raven looks amused,” Thauglor observes with a smirk, clearly entertained by the difference in his mate and daughter’s personalities.
“Fine. So, back on track.” I turn to face Finlay fully and offer him my hands, palm up—a gesture of vulnerability and request. He takes my hands gently in his, and I can feel the heat radiating from his palms like standing near a hearth fire.
“Ask away.” He offers me a gentle smile that makes something flutter in my stomach.
“I have two questions. The first—why haven’t you joined us in the suite in Malivore? We have a private room ready for you; everything is prepared.” I pause, gathering courage. “The second is, can Ipleasebite you? My dragoness is driving me insane because we can’t feel you through the bond properly.”
I laugh a little, suddenly aware of how that sounds, and decide to rephrase my next statement to spare my dad’s sensibilities. “All the behind-closed-doors stuff can happen later. I just need the mating bite.”
My dad laughs and shakes his head with fond exasperation. “Finlay was here asking about something similar, actually. He was asking about dragon customs. I told him about you biting and stealing Corvus from the table at the gathering.” Dad laughs more at the memory, and I can see Finlay growing increasingly uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing.
I squeezed his hands to get his attention back on me. “I promise I will not swoop down and steal you like I did Corvus, nor will I force you to do anything you’re not ready for.” Scales ripple up my arms unbidden, black and iridescent in the afternoon light, as I feel my canines lengthen in my mouth with sharp pricks of pressure. “I will admit it’s getting more difficult to restrain myself.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I look at my dad, and he nods understanding. “If it makes you feel safer, my dad can restrain me, and you can offer me a shoulder to bite. That way you’re in control of the situation.”
Finlay looks genuinely taken aback, and he pulls his hands away from mine. “No need. I trust you not to hurt me.” He forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he loosens his tie with practiced fingers. He lays it carefully over the back of the closest chair, then slips his suit jacket off and drapes it over his tie with methodical precision.
I watch, transfixed, as his nimble fingers slowly undo one button at a time on his crisp white shirt. His pale flesh is revealed inch by inch—unmarred and smooth like cream, practically glowing in the sunlight. He shoves the shirt to the side, exposing the curve of his shoulder and the defined muscle there. “For safety’s sake, you can bite me in the presence of your father.”
I step closer, feeling my silver talons break through the tips of my fingers with familiar ease. My eyes find my father’s, seeking permission and support, and I put my hands behind my back. He immediately grasps my wrists firmly—not painfully, but with enough pressure to hold me if my control slips.
