He studies me, eyes steady and intense, and heat creeps up my face. “Would you have believed me? Or would you have run screaming for the hills?”
“I don’t know. I think I would’ve believed you. I’ve always believed there’s more to the world than can be calculated or stuffed into a neat scientific box.”
He chuckles and nods. “Now that I know you, I believe that’s true. But at the time, all I had was a scent and a soul-deep certainty you were mine.”
That makes sense.
“I couldn’t risk it,” he goes on. “I had to find a way to truly contact you, to be with you. I spent years searching for a way. When my grand-nephew came into the picture, I rolled the dice. Thank God it paid off.”
“How do you know it has?” I tease, even though we both know it has.
He brushes my hair back, his fingers ice-cold. Instead of being unpleasant, the chill travels from my cheek straight to the place I wish he’d touch. My perfume blooms, my arousal impossible to hide. Slick pools between my thighs. He bends and kisses me. His tongue sweeps in, cold against my too-hot skin.
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Too cold?” he murmurs.
“No,” I whisper, husky.
We dance, moving slow and sure.
“Why—?” I stop, not wanting to ruin the moment but needing to know. His head tilts, high cheekbones and blue eyes making him almost angelic. “Why did you jump?”
His expression darkens. “After my pack died, all I heard was the wind and the waves off the lake. Everything was dark. I couldn’t pull myself out of my own head. I’d lie in bed for days. Honestly, I don’t even remember doing it. I’d lost my way, and I’m not sure I was in charge of myself anymore.”
Today, it would be called depression. Maybe therapy and medication could have saved him, but not in his time.
Tears slip free.
“Shhh, my Darlin’, don’t cry. You and the others have given me a second chance.” Finian’s hand slides into my hair, cool skin sending chills down my spine.
“How long do we have?” I ask, knowing this dream-vision won’t last.
“In your bed, only a minute will pass—the minute of the midnight hour. Here, we have more time.”
“Better make it count,” I say, rising on tiptoe to kiss him again.
It starts gentle, but quickly deepens. The cold of him should repel me. Instead, it thrills me.
He backs me against the wall, lifting me so my legs wrap around him. His erection presses against me through his linen trousers, and I grind down, drawing a growl from him. The candles flicker. He lifts and lowers me, over and over, each slide pressing him against my clit through my shorts until I’m gasping.
“That’s it, Darlin’. Come for me. Use me.” His accent thickens with my pleasure.
His cold fingers dive into my shorts and find my clit, tweaking until I shatter, arching off the wall. My body goes limp, but he carries me to the dining table.
“Do you want to wake up?” Finian asks into my hair.
“No. I want you to knot me on this table, alpha.”
His eyes go feral. A chair clatters aside. My top is gone, his gaze devouring me.
He pauses with my shorts, looking into my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I want this.”
“I’m cold… everywhere,” he warns.
“I like it cold.”