Page 132 of Haze

Her smug attitude is probably correct. Why wouldn’t a Dominant and an Alpha wolf not want a submissive wolf? I’m far from obedient. But there’s that little inkling of an issue. We’re broken. When he realizes how broken we are, he’ll leave.

I don’t believe it. My wolf raises her nose in opposition.

Every day it’s like she’s growing a backbone. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say maybe she’s not submissive after all. One can dream, can’t they?

After we pull our coats and shoes off, Finn turns to me. “Can I see what you’re painting?”

“Sure.” I gesture to where I’d set up the canvases by the window. The sun has set so I’ll need to paint by the LED lights I’ve bought. But it’s okay. The lights are pretty realistic.

I pull out the canvas I’ve been working on for the Smithsonian exhibit. The Leviathan and Thalia together blocked in nicely. As Finn stands there, the dedication with which he looks at my painting is intense. It reminds me of when he looks at me. Does he actually care?

“You’re talented. I can’t wait to see it finished. Do you have others?” He motions to the supplies.

“Yeah. Darren, Thalia’s dad, asked that I put together a few pieces to make it more homey here.” I point to the shipping crate we used to store the paintings.

“May I?” Finn nods to the box.

With a nod, I wrap my arms around myself. I don’t normally exhibit my art. I agreed to the Smithsonian because it’s the fucking Smithsonian. But I’m mortified about it. Waiting as Finn looks at my work like this now is what I imagine it will feel like when we get to opening day, only less scary.

Finn lifts the lid and, with a delicate touch, draws the canvas from inside the box. He pulls out the painting of birch trees first. White trunks with beautiful gold and yellow leaves reach toward the sky. Thalia’s dad wanted bold colors with nature themes, and short of painting him walls full of flowers, autumn seemed like the best way to accomplish that.

“These are stunning. How long does it take you to paint them?” Finn asks as he props the paintings up on the couch, ensuring they don’t fall forward.

“Depends on a bunch of things. These were all really quick because we wanted it to look and be more organic. Detail wasn’t super important so much as the feel and vibe.” I point to a red maple tree with fall foliage. It’s the most detailed of the trio, and I explain, “This one took the most time. It was about three weeks.”

He leans forward, looking closer at each of the paintings. At that distance, he can probably see the brush strokes in high definition. After a few minutes, I start to feel uncomfortable with his examination of my work. Wanting to be more comfortable, I walk toward the hallway leading to the bedroom.

“Why aren’t they hung up?” Finn’s voice is closer than I expect.

I jump and turn to look at him. He’s practically right behind me.

“Short people problems.” Shaking my head, I turn away from him and continue to head back to my bedroom.

“May I hang them for you?” Finn offers.

I reach for the hem of my dress to pull it off over my head. As I slide it up my thighs, I realize why Finn followed. He has my panties in his pocket. I look over my shoulder, bending forward, giving him a show as I rotate my knees apart and drag my dress off. Well aware that with my heels on, my ass has to look pretty fuckable right now. Finn’s hands on me don’t come as a shock.

He takes my dress from my hand and tosses it across the floor. The relief from my bra unclasping becomes second to the pleasing sensation of Finn’s teeth clamping down on my shoulder.

With a growl, he slides the straps down my arms. “You know what surprised me the most in cleaning up your toys?”

“I bet you tell me,” I sass.

When I turn my head to meet his eyes, they turn bright green, showing me his wolf.

My wolf floods to the surface, and I try to stop her, but between the way he’s holding me and the intensity of his gaze, it’s a losing battle. Then, something changes. I’m feeling the submissive head space. Being a brat is fun, but there’s something between us, and right now, I want to listen.

“It’s that there was a collar in your toys,” Finn whispers.

My heart rate picks up. My breathing stops. Of course he found it.

Piqued curiosity is wrapped inside a caring tone. “Do you want to be collared during play?”

“I’m not saying yes to—”

The stern look on his face silences me and my desire to explicitly state the boundary and my need for a separation between sex and... love.

He asks again, “Do you want to be collared during play?”

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