Page 45 of Haze

“Tell me about your kinks?” I shuffle on the stool, and it creaks.

Finn freezes. Oh, it’ll be fun if it’s this easy to make him uncomfortable.

Then, looking over his shoulder, he answers my question with one of his own. “Kinky, faolan?”

His side-eyed glance feels scandalous. I want more. Involuntarily, my core clenches, and I’m forced to feel the fullness of the dildo again.

I’m so sensitive that I gasp instead of saying yes.

Finn turns back to the stove for a moment before rolling his head to look up at the ceiling. He mutters something before bringing his attention back down to the frying pan.

Without his eyes on me, I admit something I’ve never said aloud. “I’m a submissive.”

“An Alpha with a submissive side, could you be any more perfect?” Finn’s voice tips up and is, dare I say, chipper.

But based on what he’s said... he didn’t quite catch it all.

I’ve spent my whole life hiding my wolf, pushing her from the surface so no one would find out. Submissive wolves are rare, but not the kind of rare that’s valued. What possessed me to confess that? Self-preservation most likely? With the hope that it’ll push him out the door.

I’m emotionally and physically naked before him, and he didn’t see or hear what I told him. I guess he’ll figure it out eventually.

My wolf whines. She doesn’t understand why he isn’t more excited and why he still calls us an Alpha.

A few more minutes of silence pass before Finn starts plating two bowls of rice, vegetables, and salmon fillets before us. It smells divine.

He knows how to cook. My wolf salivates, trying harder to sell me on Finn as our mate.

Finn sets a bowl with a fork in front of me before placing his at the eating space next to mine. I wait for him. He sits and prays over his food.

When Finn nods at me, I pick up my fork and say the only thing that feels right. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, faolan.”

Finn’s thigh rests against mine. Sitting so close is comforting, but do I want it to be?

I’ve had a few more bites before another cramp hits hard. Finn’s fork clanks as it falls to the dish. He’s behind me in an instant. He kisses my neck and runs his hands down my stomach.

I’m squeezing my fork too hard. Worried I’ll bend it, I drop it to the counter, and the clatter echoes as Finn’s finger finds my clit. It feels so good, but it’s too much. It helps, but it helps wrong. It’s not right. I can’t explain how awful and disgusting it is. My whole body riots against it.

“Finn. I can’t do it.” I force out my words, all short and jumbling.

My body is too stimulated. I claw at the counter, trying to free myself, pushing up on the stool with my feet against the bottom rung.

“Shhh. Kathleen, you’re okay.” He pulls his hand from working my clit.

I try to push myself up from the stool, but my body doesn’t cooperate. I’m uncoordinated and nearly fall, but Finn’s arm is around my waist. He helps and carefully pulls me up from the stool, and the dildo, which had been nestled deep inside, slides out.

I breathe, almost instantly feeling a new relief. Heat is still there, and the need for Finn’s cock is strong, but the panic and pain caused by the dildo are gone.

“I’ve got you, faolan,” Finn assures me.

Effortlessly, he carries me over to the couch. After a quick trip to the kitchen and back, Finn returns with my Sherpa fleece blanket and tucks the fabric around me.

Finn’s voice rolls from his mouth in warm, soothing tones, I don’t understand the words, but they rattle through my bones. Comprehension is irrelevant. He’s peaceful, calming, and in direct opposition to my internal chaos.

My heart rate slows the longer he talks, petting my head until I’m not so frenzied.

Finn backs away but never pulls his eyes from me. Despite his build, he moves with agility backward around the bar to pick up our forks and bowls. Like the oaf he is, Finn sits on the table, holding my food toward me.

---