Page 19 of The Succubus's Song

“Never.” Mara’s brows drew together. “I don’t know how I didn’t kill you. Truly.”

“Well,” Finley’s face brightened, “you didn’t, and I certainly have no complaints. I was one very willing victim.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Trust me.”

“Oh gods, no.” Mara removed herself from Finley’s grip. She couldn’t think clearly in his arms. “I still drank your blood, and I didn’t exactly ask you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” Mara hissed and began to pace in Finley’s hallway. “Of course it matters!”

“I’ve already offered it to you. Twice, in fact.”

“You… Oh.” Mara stopped, memories of Finley asking her if she wanted to use him to feed running through her mind. “I guess you have.”

“Exactly.” Finley grinned, pointing to the bedroom behind him. “Now, anything else that you’re unnecessarily concerned about? I propose we get some sleep.”

Mara narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not ‘unnecessary’, Finley. You have no idea what you’re dealing with. It’s a fluke my powers affected you the way they did, and it’s a miracle I had enough control to pull away.”

Finley fell quiet, suddenly looking as dejected as Mara had ever seen him—and she hated it.

“I know that’s why you turned me down,” Finley sighed, picking up his head to look her in the eye, “but I don’t care. I still think it was a dumb reason. This just proves it. I really don’t see why we can’t at least try.”

Mara’s heart was breaking. She didn’t know of any other way to make him understand the magnitude of what they’d done and how mind-boggling it was that he survived.

“You need to understand that this is not good news,” Mara snapped, forcing some edge into her voice.

She despised herself for it, but she needed to rid Finley of his hope that they would ever be together, for his own good. Especially now that she had the imminent return of her family to deal with. Finley was already in enough danger because of her.

“I’m not going to try anything with your life on the line, Finley.” Mara turned around and started walking towards the balcony door. “I’ll never make that mistake again.”

Mara escaped out the window and was gone.

CHAPTER NINE

When the bright blue door of The Dog House came into view, Finley visibly relaxed. He was desperate for a pint and knew Emmett was waiting for him. After Mara left him earlier that morning, Finley hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Luckily, he didn’t have practice on Saturday, but it did mean Finley spent all day in his apartment without a distraction.

He paced, overthought, and paced some more. He made himself lunch to give himself something to do but couldn’t get it down. Finally, he summoned the courage to text Mara and asked her if he could see her.

All his messages were not returned.

Finley knew Emmett was busy covering for Calum—even on the weekends—but when he couldn’t take it any longer, he asked Emmett to meet him at The Dog House.

Emmett, being Emmett, was never too busy to turn down a pint.

The door to The Dog House was painted with a grinning depiction of an English bulldog on it. You had to go down a flight of stairs to get to the pub, and the walls were covered in graffiti and neon signs. The ceiling was covered in hanging lamp shades. One light was entirely made from feathers, and a large mural of a dog with a pirate’s hat took up an entire wall. The stools were mismatched, and a few leather tufted sofas lined the room. It looked like a modern art project gone horribly wrong, but the beer was cold; the food was good, and Finley loved it.

Finley walked inside, trying to find Emmett through the young crowd. He spotted him almost immediately. It was nearly impossible for Emmett to go incognito in any space, even a public one. He was perched precariously on a stool that looked too small for him, sitting under a small brass chandelier that had a baby doll hanging off it. A briefcase hung off his shoulder, stuffed to the brim, and a stack of papers and a half-empty Guinness sat in front of him.

Is he grading papers right now? Finley was concerned he pulled Emmett away from an important project, but he knew Emmett well enough to realize he’d have turned him down if he had been truly busy.

“Hey, Emmett,” Finley greeted as he sat down across from him, trying to force a nonchalant attitude. Emmett jolted, obviously taken by surprise, before smiling at Finley.

“Oh, excellent! I hope you don’t mind. I already ordered,” Emmett pointed his pen at his drink, “but I got here early to go through some of these assignments.” He meticulously gathered the papers into a neat little stack before clipping them together and tucking them back into his briefcase. Emmett removed his glasses and waved for the waitress.

“Any preference?” Emmett asked, and Finley shook his head. Emmett ordered two more pints of Guinness for them, and then he gave Finley his full attention. He crossed his fingers and set his hands on the table. “I get the feeling that you didn’t want to catch up for the sake of it.”

“Oh.” Finley blushed again and wondered how many times in a twenty-four period someone could get embarrassed. “Um,” he scratched at the stubble on his cheek, “yeah, I mean, I did want to talk to you about…Mara.” Finley paused before saying her name and then screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Emmett’s reaction.

Emmett chuckled warmly. “I assumed as much. Did something happen?”

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