Page 22 of The Succubus's Song

“‘Beastly’ isn’t a bad thing if you’re not human, Finley,” Emmett chuckled as if there was some sort of joke that Finley didn’t understand. “She’s concerned about protecting Edinburgh from her family, and I don’t doubt she’s attracted to you, but the last man she loved, her family killed. She’s horrified at the idea of becoming like her family, which is why she was likely terrified about what happened last night.”

“But…”

“She’s got a good reason to be afraid,” Emmett cut Finley off. “I’ve never heard of a baobhan sith having restraint. I’m going to have to investigate it.”

Emmett’s eyes brightened a little, and Finley knew it was because the wulver never turned down a research project.

Finley finished his beer and said nothing, his mind racing a million miles an hour. He thought he had a pretty good understanding of the magical world, but every time he tried to get closer to Mara, he learned just how out of his depth he was.

“What should I do?” Finley asked, staring at the bottom of an empty pint glass.

Emmett sighed, sounding sympathetic. “Do you really want my advice?”

There was something in his tone that made Finley sit up a little straighter.

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Well then…” Emmett crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “You wait.”

“You want me to do nothing?” Finley scowled.

“Mara is a predator,” Emmett growled, his voice dropping lower, “like I am. And we’re beastly.” Emmett smirked. “If she’s had a taste of something she wants…she’ll come back for more.”

“She will?” Finley perked up, but Emmett’s answering chuckle was almost ominous.

“Predators don’t leave anything behind for scavengers, Finley.”

CHAPTER TEN

Finley had never needed a day of practice so badly. After Finley and Emmett parted ways on Saturday evening, the rest of Finley’s weekend was spent in the same pattern—another lifetime’s worth of pacing and overthinking. Finally, he’d made a mental note to ask Fern the next time they spoke what the protocol was for discussing magical problems with non-magical therapists.

By Monday morning, Finley was barely holding himself together, plagued by a constant fear that he would never be good enough—not for a romantic partner, not as a brother, not as a footballer… After Lauren, Finley convinced himself he’d only ever be the friend.

Finley was everyone’s friend.

People loved him, and he was popular. He was never short on invitations or people to make plans with, but those people only wanted Finley at a surface level. The happy-go-lucky, aimable, golden retriever incarnate footballer who’d always buy the next round and make you laugh.

After Finley and Mara had seen proof that he didn’t respond to her magic the same way other men did, and she still rejected him, he’d convinced himself all his greatest fears were true.

“I need to run,” Finley grunted to himself as he pulled into the parking lot. His anxiety was threatening to overtake him if it hadn’t already. Finley was prepared to train until he puked if it meant getting his brain to be quiet for a few hours.

The Hearts’ practices were held at the Oriam, Scotland’s national center for sport and fitness, in Edinburgh. The behemoth complex featured an indoor pitch, six outdoor pitches with multiple surfaces to choose from, several halls for various all-purpose courts, and an intensive rehabilitation area. The massive white dome gleamed in the weak spring sunlight. Finley’s nerves eased at the sight alone.

Finley jogged towards the practice fields, embracing the scents of leather and grass, letting his mind slip on autopilot. His game had suffered ever since Scotland’s magic returned, but he was determined to turn it around.

I must. Finley pushed back against his sense of dread. I have no other options.

Finley gave a quick wave to his teammates, who were already warming up, and slipped inside the Oriam to drop his gear. As soon as he swung open the door to the locker room, he saw Ronan, who was waiting for him.

“Hey.” Ronan nodded in the direction of the offices. “Coach wants to talk to you.” A shiver of dread went through Finley.

“Right now?” He tried to keep his voice casual, but he could see the tension on Ronan’s face. Ronan only nodded in response, clapping his hand on Finley’s shoulder in a sign of support before he double-timed it out of the locker room. Everyone else was already out on the pitch, leaving Finely alone as he forced his feet to move towards his coach’s office.

Not today. Finley silently prayed as the nausea in his stomach started to churn, his feet feeling like lead. Please, please, don’t do this today.

His coach was sitting at his desk when Finley appeared in the doorway. He knocked twice on the open door to get the man’s attention.

“Hey… Ronan said you wanted to talk to me?” Finley forced himself to sound nonchalant.

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