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on the nearby table. Heats come and go. It will be back. Finch said so himself.
But the scent of Finch’s heat didn’t return later that evening, or the day after that, or even on
the morning of the seventh day, when Hugh woke to find Finch slumbering peacefully at his
side. By that point, there was only one possible conclusion—Finch had conceived, and the
clutch Hugh had dreamed of all these hundreds of years would be his.
Finch
Hugh insisted that Finch book an appointment to see Everard at his medical office to confirm
the clutch. He was so keenly positive and happy, and Finch tried to be the same, but he was
worried. Very worried. Hopeful, too, but mostly worried. Therefore he made two appointments:
one he’d attend together with Hugh on Friday in roughly two weeks’ time, and one by himself
on Thursday the day before that. In the interim, he was free to dream of how wonderful a clutch
would be, and how it would be even better to wear Hugh’s mate mark, and how much more
wonderful yet it would be to wake up every morning for hundreds of years in Hugh’s bed. But
dreaming wasn’t all Finch did with the time he had before his first appointment—in addition to
satisfying his secretarial duties, he used every spare moment he had to satisfy Hugh in bed.
Hugh was a remarkably inventive lover. He had a way of using every inch of his body to arouse
Finch to greater heights of pleasure. Hugh did things that even the cloister hadn’t warned Finch
to expect—things that were decadent and somehow forbidden and absolutely wonderful. Hugh
in a nutshell. Finch had thought that would change after his heat receded, but it hadn’t. Hugh’s
frantic, frenetic desire had abated, somewhat, but his ardor remained undimmed. Without the
influence of Finch’s heat, Hugh painstakingly explored every inch of Finch’s body and
cherished each one thoroughly.
“Mine,” he said over and over, biting Finch’s neck or teasing a nipple or sliding his cock into
Finch’s eager body. “Always, forever, mine.”
And as if the thorough lovemaking wasn’t enough, Hugh did other smaller and simpler things
for Finch. He secured Elizabeth and Eleanor a gilded cage and installed it in Finch’s suite, and
took Finch on walks around the estate during which he always held Finch’s hand. They ate
their meals together, sometimes in the dining room where a smirking Bella brought in dish after
dish, and sometimes in Hugh’s room. They also talked for hours and hours, or rather Hugh
largely talked and Finch added the occasional observation. The conversations were often
