Page 40 of Legacy of Thorns
“I have no desire to wallow,” she said tartly.
“Then don’t wallow.” His challenging gaze wouldn’t let her go. “Acknowledge the truth of the situation you’re in and what caused it, feel the feelings that creates, and then let them go, if you want to.”
It sounded so simple, and yet…
“And what about you?” she asked. “You must want to wallow, then. Since you haven’t let anything go.”
Part of her wanted to hide from the intensity of the conversation—already fatigue was pulling at the edges of her mind, the emotions draining her. But another part of her refused to back down. If he was going to challenge her, then he needed to prove he could take the same challenge back.
He stood frozen, looking at her.
“I…” he started, only to stop.
She gave a small, tight smile. “That’s what I thought. If I need to accept that my parents—and you—have wronged me, then you need to let go of the wrongs done to you. Your father is dead, Fin. The anger isn’t serving you.”
She thought he would turn away, that he would leave her alone among the trees, but he did neither. Instead, he straightened.
“You’re right. If I want you to release the feelings you’ve repressed, I have to release the ones I’ve been holding. Or at least, I have to try.”
His words were so unexpected they released something inside her. Her hands tightened into fists, her muscles quivering with the effort of remaining still.
“You’re right that I’m angry!” Her quiet voice shook with intense emotion. “I’m angry that my parents gave me this burden, and I’m angry that just when I was supposed to be free, you tricked me into entangling myself even further. And most of all, I’m angry at the Legacy! I don’t care that it doesn’t have a mind or a will. I’m furious with it! I’m sick of my own body and mind betraying me! All I want is to be myself without the Legacy’s burden! Is that so much to ask?”
“Not at all,” Fin said softly. “And I only wish it was in my power to give you your freedom. I wish I’d never had a part in making your life worse.”
His words pierced the haze of Daphne’s storming mind, draining her anger liked he’d pulled a plug.
“You don’t make my life worse,” she whispered, so softly she thought he might not catch the words.
But his breathing quickened, and he stepped toward her, one hand reaching out before dropping back to his side.
“I did this to you,” he murmured. “I have no right to…”
Daphne wasn’t sure what words came next, and the possibilities scared her.
“What if it’s building to something worse?” she blurted, her worst fear leaping from her mind to her tongue in an effort to fill the silence. “What if one day I go to sleep, and I don’t wake up?”
Finley’s muscles tightened, and this time his hand gripped one of her arms. “If that happens, I will never abandon you. I will do whatever it takes to wake you. You, of all people, know that’s true.”
Daphne released a shaky breath, moisture tangling in her eyelashes. She didn’t know what to do with the fire in his eyes or with the relief his words sent coursing through her.
His voice grew more urgent. “I will make sure you wake up. And I don’t need to know who you are without the naps. That was one thing Archie was right about—you’re incredible with or without them.”
Daphne laughed hollowly, looking down. “We don’t know what I’m like without the naps, do we?”
“Daphne.” Fin stepped even closer, his eyes trapping hers.
Slowly, his free hand reached out, his fingers brushing down her arm, tracing it from shoulder to wrist. Her skin tingled at the lightness of his touch, her heart thrumming as he reached her hand and wove his fingers through hers.
The weight and warmth of his hand, so firmly holding hers, filled her simultaneously with a sense of security and an unfamiliar excitement. She looked down at their clasped hands. How could so much be communicated with just entwined fingers?
Fin stepped even closer. “I meant what I said. I don’t need to know what you’re like without them.” His voice was low and deep. “You’re already the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Daphne.”
Her eyes leaped upward, and her breath caught at the nearness of his face. She could see every one of his long, dark lashes, and her eyes traced the light stubble that lined his chin.
Without thinking, her free hand lifted to run lightly along the sharp line of his jaw. He sucked in an audible breath at the contact, and her eyes jumped back to his. His gaze was locked on her lips.
Her breath tangled and caught, her heart beating so hard it hurt. She should pull away. Any moment, she was going to pull away.
