Page 68 of Bloody Temptations

“Hey,” I manage to squeeze the word out, rocking on my feet.

“Hey," he whisper-squeaks back. We stare at each other for Gods knows how long, before he finally snaps out of it.

“Shit, come in. Sorry!” He spins abruptly, stepping back so I can come in.

I kick my shoes off at the door and follow Finn into the apartment. Not that there is any chance of getting lost—it’s tiny. Not that I’m judging. The furniture isn’t helping, the good quality pieces are out of place in the small, kinda dingy apartment.

There is a short hallway from the entry, with the kitchen to the left immediately when you enter. The hallway ends at the living room, with two doors to the right, and I’m assuming at least one of those is the bedroom. But that is definitely getting ahead of myself.

Finn watches me surveying his home, nervously wringing his hands in the middle of the living room. Even as wrecked as he looks now, with bags under his eyes and his hair a mess, he’s still the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.

“Did you want something to drink?” He asks nervously, waving at the kitchen. “Or sit down, or… Or—I don’t know. I have those two things. Sitting and blood.”

He throws his hands up in aggravation and plonks himself down on the glass topped coffee table. It’s way too big for the space, even if it does match the TV stand and couches perfectly. Finn buries his head in his hands, groaning softly.

Again, I move to comfort, already halfway there before I remember and stop, redirecting myself to the couch just across from him instead. Our knees almost brush, only centimetres separate us.

Is it wrong that his, whatever this is, is giving me hope that everything’s not lost entirely? Probably. I watch him for a moment, considering what to say. Even if I do have hope, we’re currently in no man’s land. We’re not together. We’re not broken up. It’s not good, or bad. It’s the momentbeforethe moment happens. And if it does go badly, I want to savour this for just a little bit longer.

“I don’t need a drink, Finn. I just need you,” I whisper, once I’ve calmed myself down enough to speak.

His head pops up at that, his eyes watering with pink, blood stained tears. They spill over his cheeks when he snaps his eyes closed and then, he’s on top of me. Tackling me into the couch with a loud cry.

“I’m so, so, so sorry!” The rest of his apology is lost in his wet sobs against my neck. His arms are wrapped so tightly around me, I can barely move mine to be able to comfort him. I manage to wiggle one arm free to stroke the bare patch of skin on his lower back where his tee shirt’s ridden up.

“It’s okay.Shhh.It’s okay, Finn.” I rub my cheek over his hair, but my attempts to soothe him only make him cling harder.

“No, it’s not.” It’s hard to hear him, with my neck muffling his mouth.

“Okay. It might be a bit shit right now, Finn. But itwillbe okay. Is that better?”

It tickles when he laughs, the sensation making me squirm. He finally lets us up. Rolling off me, he sits back. But not too far. When we’re all settled, we’re sitting facing each other on the couch, each with a knee up so we’re sitting side on. Finn’s knee is nestled over mine and my arm is draped over the back of the couch so I can stroke his neck.

There has to be some cat shifter instincts still left in him, with the way he rubs himself on my hand.

“Inevershould have said any of that last night, Kai. It was fucked up. I’m so sorry.”

He rubs at the tears on his cheek with his fist, but they are just replaced immediately, his eyes leaking a slow trickle now.

“I’m not going to say what you said was fine, Finn. It wasn’t. But I think… I think we’re possibly overdue for a talk.”

Finn freezes. Eyes painfully wide.

“A good talk! A good one—I promise. At least on my side, anyway.” I rush to clarify before he panics himself into exploding or something.

He relaxes immediately, visibly wilting. “Uh, yeah. Probably. I have been made aware that maybe, lack of communication may have led to last night. Amongst, like, my myriad of personal problems.”

Well, colour me intrigued. And possibly concerned. “Who said that?”

Finn picks at a loose thread on the couch. “Matteus, actually. It’s a long story. And we’ll get to it in a bit. Right now, we should talk about us. If there still is an us?”

“I want there to be an us. Doyouwant there to be an us?”

“Yes! Oh Gods, yes. I want there to be an us. I might not understand why—wait! No. Forget that last bit. Just yes. Yes to us.”

Finn blushes a horrendous, adorable red in his flustered ramblings. My smile tugs at my cheeks, making them ache.

“So, that’s a yes?” I tease.

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