Page 121 of Haze

“Fuck,” she whines.

I kiss her cheek. “Words, Kathleen, give me more words. Let me help you.”

“Cold,” she complains.

Something easily fixed. Placing the discarded sex toys on the bedside table, I move quickly, pulling back the covers and fluffing her pillow. Moving her to the middle of the bed, where she prefers, is effortless. I tuck the pillow I’ve been using on her left and climb in on the right. Alongside her, I press as much of myself against her as I can and cover us in all four layers of blankets on her bed.

Her teeth chatter for a moment before her nose turns to press against my neck.

“I have feels,” Lena whines.

“That’s good. Feels are okay.” I use her word. It’s sweet, sensitive, and vulnerable.

She shakes her head. Her cold nose brushes my skin.

Lena protests, “No. Not okay. I don’t want to feel things.”

“I promise feelings are good things.” I push out all the good feelings I have for her, trying to reach her through the bond.

All the support and love I hold for her in my heart. If even half of it gets through our thin bond, it might ease her a little.

“Losing you will destroy me,” she gasps and swallows a sob.

“Mmmm,” I grumble. “There’s good news. You’ll never lose me, faolan. You will always carry my heart with yours. There will never be a moment you’re truly alone. My mark rests on your shoulder, and when you’re ready, my collar will hang around your neck. Then, I’ll put a beautiful ring on your finger.”

Her breathing slows, and I feel her straining emotions retreat. The acceptance of my words feels so much better than I anticipated. She trusted me, at least in this moment. Someday, maybe even soon, she’ll say yes.

“Can we nap?” she asks with a yawn.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I answer before planting a soft kiss on her lips. “Rest easy, Kathleen.”

She mutters an indistinguishable sentence before sleep drapes over her consciousness.

Chapter 39

Finn

The entire bed quakes, and I open my eyes to find Lena jolted straight up, sitting next to me. I glance around the room, but there’s no sign of anyone here. After drawing in a breath, I don’t scent anyone else, and with soundproofing, I know I won’t hear anyone either.

“Kathleen, faolan?” I call, raising my hand to her shoulder.

She shrugs it off. “Who is Aoife?” Lena asks.

My heart sinks.

“Who is Siobahn? Roisin? Orla?” Lena doesn’t look at me, but her voice gets angrier with every name.

The accuracy of how she pronounces the names only comes from someone who has heard them said correctly. Each name causes my stomach to drop further.

“I think you know who they are,” I answer roughly.

Sitting up alongside her, I try to pull Lena to me, but she refuses, shuffling farther away. I reach over and click on the lamp. The warm light illuminates the room.

“You need to say it, Finn, because I’m sitting here feeling humiliated or stupid on some level. I need you to tell me. Who are they?” Lena’s voice shakes.

She’s turned too far away from me, but I can see the tension ripple through the muscles on her back. Her body’s wound tight and on the verge of flight or fight. My body mimics hers curling tight, influenced by her distress.

“Kathleen.” I coax her to look at me, running my hand up her back toward her shoulder. I breathe, pulling myself back down to a rational calm. “Come here, faolan.”

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