Page 49 of Scythe & Sparrow
“I mind.”
“I can see that,” I say, a little flare of irritation licking at my restraint. “You’d rather pay nearly a thousand dollars a night to not sleep in the same bed as me.”
“No,” he says, stopping us both with a hand on my wrist. We block more of the corridor than we should, him with his suitcaseand me with my unsteady crutches and black cast. But Fionn doesn’t seem to care about anyone or anything else. He looks at me with a kind of ferocity that I sometimes feel in him, but rarely see. “No, that’s not it, Rose. It was one of your rules. And I don’t want to break it.”
“I gathered that.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I level him with a flat glare. “Oh,right, I get it. Well, don’t worry, I heard you the first time. You don’t want a relationship. What makes you think that I do?” Fionn doesn’t answer, just stares down at me as though he can’t work me out, even though my words are perfectly clear. “I’m a big girl,” I say as I pat him once on the chest before I grip my crutches and pull away from his loosening hold on my wrist. “I think I can handle sharing a bed.”
I make it all the way to the elevator and press the button before I turn enough to look at him. Fionn is still standing where I left him, his brow creased, the ghost of a thoughtful frown lingering at the corners of his lips. The call button dings, and the doors slide open and he still hasn’t moved.
“Just because you finger fucked me on a plane doesn’t mean I want to get married, Dr. Kane,” I say as two women exit the elevator arm in arm.
“You tell him, badass bitch,” one of them says as the other gives me a high five when they pass by. Fionn looks like he’s wishing the floor would open up and absorb him, and though the women give him a brutal side-eye, he doesn’t tear his attention from me.
The elevator doors bang against the crutch I hold out to stop them, sliding open once more. I roll my eyes. “Are you coming or what?”
Finally, he moves, though it’s like he’s wading against a current. It takes him longer to get to me than it should.
I haven’t even been in an elevator that many times, as weird as it might sound. But this ride to the fourth floor is one of the most memorable for sheer awkwardness. Only one of us has luggage. One of us is pissed off. And I think both of us are probably realizing this is harder than we thought it would be.
We get to the floor and trudge to the room, the wheels of Fionn’s bag bumping along the carpet in a sad melody to accompany our tense silence. When we step inside, the room is much like the rest of the hotel—elegant, luxurious, but in a way that feels calming with its blues and grays and soft whites. I already feel like I’ve made it messy just by entering.
“I need a shower,” I say as I take a few steps into the room and peel his jacket off, setting it on the back of a chair.
“That’s not what I meant,” Fionn says. I turn and look at him over my shoulder, that same perplexed expression from down by the elevators still fixed to his face.
“Huh?”
“When I said I don’t want to hurt you.”
I blink a few times, facing him fully as I replay the conversation, but I still come up confused. “What, do you have night terrors or something?”
“No—”
“Are you one of those people who kicks when they’re falling asleep?”
“I don’t think—”
“Do you have a sleep demon who’s going to possess me?”
“What?No.” Fionn takes a step closer, shaking his head asthough trying to get his bearings. I raise my brows, waiting for some life-changing confession. “No. I just … don’t know if I’m safe for you to be around.”
I tilt my head, trying to figure him out. “What do you mean?”
He runs a hand through his hair, grasping the back of his neck as he says, “The thing at the Blood Brothers barn. I snapped. I fucked that guy up.”
“Yeah.” I try not to smile, though I quickly fail. “You did. That was pretty hot.”
“Hot?” he repeats, though despite the attempt to sound incredulous, he can’t hide the spark in his eyes. “Beating a guy unconscious during a moment of blind rage is kind of the antithesis of my profession. It was prettybad.”
“Meh. You could have ripped his spine out through his throat,” I say with a shrug. “Thatwould have been pretty bad. Yet even hotter.”
Fionn sighs and drops his head, running his fingers over his temples. “Rose, the point is, I do not want you to inadvertently get caught up in my shit if something like that happens again. I wasn’t in control. I would never forgive myself if you were hurt because of me.”
“What do youreallymean? Like, you’re worried about hurting me physically? On purpose?”
