Page 52 of Dark Night Golden Dawn
The implication sunk in. They’d tried to force him to violate her. She shook with anger. How could parents ask such a thing of their child? Especially one asgoodas Finn had been. But still, this didn’t explain his actions, how he’d reacted.
“We talked about everything back then, Finn. I knew how bad they were. I would have understood,” she reasoned. “You could have told me.”
“Could I? Could I have said to you at eighteen that my parents wanted me to impregnate you, even if it was against your will? Harlow, I was fucking terrified. Of them, of myself…”
Anger burned a hole in her tongue, and she lashed out. “Why in seventeen hells would you have been afraid of yourself?”
He jumped up, as though she’d struck him and turned from her, shame cowing his ample shoulders. “Gods forgive me, Harls. I considered it, for the briefest moment. I thought about what it would be like to have a child together.”
She followed him to where he leaned against the hearth, his forehead pressed to the enormous stone mantel. Her arms went around his waist. “You thought about what it would be like to have a baby?”
He turned and tears were in his stormy eyes. “Yes, and in the context of the conversation I hated myself.”
Harlow was perplexed. This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear at all. She’d always thought that his parents might have been involved in what happened, but she’d assumed it was that they’d convinced him once and for all how inferior she was to him. How foolish he’d been for falling in love with a lesser immortal. Every choice she’d made for years after had been based on that assumption—that some fault in her had caused the first person she’d ever fallen in love with to turn cruel after one night with her.
This, though. This was something else, and her mind struggled to comprehend the enormity of the consequences that assumption had on her life. “I’m not sure I understand. You thought about us having a baby, not forcing me to do so, but only what it would be like if we had a child. You liked it, and that was terrible of you?”
Tears collected in his eyes, along with shame. “They could tell. Could smell the desire on me. Harls, they knew how much I wanted you, how much I wanted a family of my own, and I knew in that moment they’d never stop trying to manipulate us both into whatever sick plans they have.”
“And what are those plans?” she asked softly, thinking of the Merkhov book, as she tightened her grip on his abdomen. Should she tell him about it?
Before she could speak, he was answering. “I don’t know. That was the last time we spoke for nearly two years. I moved into my godsfather’s brownstone that he willed to me, the one in Midtown, remember?”
Harlow nodded. She remembered the place the Trickster’s Chosen had left Finn when he died, but couldn’t remember exactly how the shifter was connected to the McKays. Maybe she never knew.
Finn continued. “I was determined to make you hate me. I couldn’t trust myself with you, not with all their fucked up shit running through my head, and I knew you’d have some clever solution, some way to solve things.” He shook his head. “But you don’t know who they are, Harlow. You don’t know the things they’ve done. The things they could still do.”
Harlow let her arms fall away from him. Finally she understood. She didn’t like it, but it all made sense now. But for something that made sense, it didn’t make her feel any better. Maybe he’d made a mistake with the way he went about things, but she’d made one after another, letting his treatment of her define her self-worth. She wasn’t certain she could forgive him, or herself for all that.
“What’s different about things now, then?” she asked. “Why is it safe now, when it wasn’t then?”
Finn shook his head. “It’s not. I’m just tired of fighting how I feel. I needed you to know what happened and make a choice for yourself. I took that from you before.”
She stared into the fire. “Their goals are consistent at least. Whatever they think us having a child could mean for them can’t be good for the baby, or for us.”
He shook his head. “No, it can’t. But I’m an adult now, and… Well, there are a lot of other things I should tell you, if you think you might want to give us a try, but they involve other people and me asking you to keep a lot of things secret.” Finn inhaled deeply, his composure returning. “I can keep you safe now in ways I couldn’t before.”
She believed that he believed that, that he wouldn’t say so if he didn’t think it was true. Harlow sank back into her chair. Only one thread was left to pull. “And what about Petra?”
His head hung with remorse. “I’ve never hated myself so much as when I stood by and let her bully you and Enzo. I’ve been in therapy since I told Alaric everything.”
That surprised her, but only a little. Alaric was good, through and through. Of course he’d tried to help Finn, the way an older sibling would. “When was that?”
“When I was nineteen. He found me a therapist and I still see him—through video calls now though, he’s in Nea Sterlis. James is Riley Quinn’s dad, an empath like they are.”
Harlow was quiet. Her emotions swirled in confusing circles. She was angry he hadn’t just spoken to her, explained everything. At the same time, she remembered what it was like to be that age, to be afraid of every changing emotion, to be afraid of yourself and your desires. If she was honest with herself, she couldn’t say how she would have reacted if he had told her. But the abandonment and Petra’s behavior still did damage that she didn’t know how to undo.
He knelt in front of her, as a supplicant might. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I don’t expect you to come live here, or be with me… Or anything. I came back here two years ago, with the intention of telling you everything, and asking you to be together.”
“But I was with Mark.”
He nodded. “And when I saw pictures of the two of you together on Section Seven, I left. Came here. There was another house on this property then and I had it torn down. When I had the plans drawn up for this place it just sort of came out. But I never thought you’d break up with Mark, so I moved back to Nea Sterlis. Last Yule, everyone said you were going to be engaged. I thought you’d marry him.”
“So did I,” Harlow whispered. “But things changed.”
Finn nodded. “About that… I have something else to admit, and you’re not going to like it.”
Harlow raised her eyebrows.
