Page 50 of Pack Rage (The Splintered Bond #4)
Chapter 49
First Date Forgiveness
FINNICK
I peered across the darkened private box at my mate, taking in her profile as she listened to “Vissi d’Arte,” my favorite aria in the world. I’d wondered if she would enjoy the opera—she’d seemed slightly hesitant when she found out where we were going.
“First for dinner at Skyline, then Tosca,” I’d told her when I brought her gown to her room that afternoon. The others had all made themselves scarce, but her friend Vanya and one other maid were there to help her dress and do her hair. “Just the two of us.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. The others had promised not to join us in the box, but I knew they’d all followed us into the city.
“Opera is fancy,” Flor had admitted in the limousine on the way to dinner. “I’m not sure I’ll know how to act.”
I’d loved her even more for the honest admission, but I’d assured her we’d be in my pack’s private box, and there was no need for acting. “People like to think opera is sophisticated. But it’s the purest, rawest form of emotion I ever encountered growing up. Talented opera singers can take pain and turn it into the most beautiful music. I think you’ll like it.” I hoped she would.
She will, Grigor had assured me. He’d insisted on staying close, though out of sight.
He’d been giving Flor and me lessons in wielding magic, and didn’t want to leave us without a magical chaperone. He’d shared before the date that he had confidence in us, but we’d been working on setting and extinguishing small fires.
“When you’re first learning control, mistakes can be frightening. And with the levels of power you both have, there’s the chance you could burn down the city without meaning to. My own mother didn’t let me leave her side for three months after I learned the spell for fire. Good thing, too.” He hadn’t shared more, but I’d accepted his shadowy presence for the evening without needing to know.
Flor had been grateful. After the battle—or perhaps after she’d mated Grigor—the magic she’d inherited had become obvious, giving her a… presence. She was still slight and short, and wore an ear tag, but there was no mistaking her for anything but shifter royalty. Every shifter could feel her power, and they unconsciously dropped their gazes and even bowed when she ran past, not that she noticed.
She looked like a queen now, as I sat across from her in the box. She suited the dress I’d chosen for her, a deep blue form-fitting, floor-length crepe gown. The neckline dipped low enough that I could see her décolletage, with flowing tulle sleeves that belled out and met at a satin band at her wrists. Scattered crystals all over the sleeves gave the impression of the night sky, and the crescent-shaped diamond necklace I’d given her hung like the moon above one of the points of her scar.
Her favorite part of the ensemble were the long slits on the outer side of each leg, starting at her thighs and running to the bottom of the gown, of course, and the butter-soft leather knife sheath I’d had made for her steak knife.
She liked the dress, but I could tell she didn’t like the opera. She loved it. Tears fell freely down her cheeks as she listened avidly, her hands gripping the rail in front of us as if she were moments away from rushing to the stage and comforting the soprano.
When the curtain fell, she was the first on her feet, clapping so hard it had to hurt her hands. “Finn, how does anyone think opera is boring?” she asked, wiping her face with the backs of her hands until I handed her the clean handkerchief from my pocket. “It’s tragic and magical and… oh, Finn.” She threw herself toward me, jumping up to wrap her arms around my neck. I caught her and held her face to mine as she rained kisses on me. “You were right; it was like a transformation, all that pain turned into pure beauty.”
I pressed my lips to hers, trying to tell her everything I felt with my kiss. How perfect she was, how happy it made me to know she saw what I did, how much I loved her. I kissed her, holding her to me, through the final curtain call. While the rest of the patrons shuffled out, I lost myself in the feeling of her lips on mine, her arms around me, her soft, small curves pressing on?—
Glen asked me to tell you to… get a room? Ah, yes, get a room. Grigor’s voice was rich with laughter in my mind.
Our minds. Flor pulled back, her expression sheepish, and a little hesitant. “Yeah, we should probably… get a room?”
I knew what she was asking. Over the past weeks, we’d done many things together. I’d watched her with the others, I’d held her for Glen and Grigor as they lavished pleasure on her and filled her, and I’d grown addicted to her small, perfect nipples.
But I hadn’t been inside her. I hadn’t tasted her. I wasn’t sure if I’d forgiven myself enough to do that now, but the uncertainty in her eyes, and the chorus of growls from the other mates in my mind, made it clear that she needed me to try.
It was a good thing I’d reserved the penthouse in the hotel across the street for the weekend. “One room, coming up.” She grabbed my hand, and we practically ran across to the hotel, smiles on our faces, drawing judgmental glances from the other guests.
“We should behave,” Flor whispered in the hotel elevator as I leaned down to nuzzle her hair, sneaking a hand behind her back to discreetly cup her ass while I was at it. The operator, a stern-faced human in his sixties, had his eyes on the floor, but two older women I vaguely recognized from the society pages were standing in front of us, obviously aware of us. Flor’s blush was almost as bright as her hair.
“Why?” I whispered. “I’ve already made my mind up. I’m leaving the pack to Cilian, and the city for good. We’ll never see any of these people again.”
“But what about the opera?” she asked, with what might have been a tiny whine in her tone. “I want to go back. I loved it!”
I dropped a gentle kiss on her lips as the older women exited. “Then we’ll come back. Cilian won’t care. He hates the city anyway.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, nuzzling my neck, nipping slightly at the place where she’d bitten me.
As soon as the doors opened, I scooped her up and ran to the room. It was enormous, the wall beside the door sporting a table draped in satin, vases of white roses, jasmine, and ivy, and carafes of water, wine, and covered plates with food. The opposite wall was entirely made up of windows that looked out over a city shining like diamonds in the cold, clear night.
The best part of it was the bed, large enough for a half dozen. I ignored the soft laughter in my mind, and shoved the others out. They’d been jealous of my claim on her first date, but that was their fault. And this was my night.
Her night.
In less than a minute, she was lying on the massive bed, the full skirt of her dress piled around her, her crystal-covered ballet flats on the floor. Her eyes hooded, she reached under her skirt and took off the knife sheath, dropping it onto the carpet as well.
“Finn, you have too many clothes on. Take them off.”
“Yes, Alpha,” I murmured and did just that, slowly removing each part of my tuxedo, the heat in her gaze warming me as she so obviously approved of my body. I wasn’t as muscular as Luke or Glen, or as huge as Brand. I wasn’t some ancient master magician, like Grigor. I was the one of her mates who had been unfaithful, and even if my reasons had been pure, I was afraid it put me in last place in her bed, and maybe even in her heart.
But as she unzipped her dress down the side, then held it out to me, kneeling on the soft linens in nothing but a scrap of blue lace and a diamond necklace, I decided there was one thing I could do to feel that I’d earned this moment, that I deserved to fully claim her.
I could use the skills I’d learned in darkness, and turn them into worship.
I dropped to my knees at the foot of the bed, pulling her by her slender ankles to the edge of the mattress, and bowed my head, kissing and licking my way up the insides of her thighs as she shuddered. Her thighs were muscular but small under my long fingers as I spread her open, a feast for all my senses. I drew a breath of her scent into my lungs, letting it out on a moan as I slid the lacy panties down over her legs.
“I love you, Finnick Dimitrivich,” she murmured.
“I love you more,” I replied. Then I lowered my face to her mound and began to beg forgiveness with my whole heart… and my lips… and my tongue. I spelled out my love, writing letters on her swollen clit as she arched her back, crying out once, twice, three times.
I flipped her over onto her front and dove into her from behind, letting my tongue cover every part of her, my fingers and tongue working in tandem to take her to the edge and over four more times before she sobbed into the pillow, “Finn! Get inside me before I die!”
I hesitated, blinking. “Are you… Are you sure?”
It was her wolf who answered. “Yes, mate. I am sure of you. Join with me.”
“Yes, Alpha,” I replied.
A dark chuckle sounded in my mind, her wolf pleased with the term, though Flor herself usually complained when we called her that.
I’d been able to hear Flor in my thoughts since she reclaimed me in the lower levels, but her wolf had rarely spoken. Now, she padded softly through my thoughts, inspecting them. No, my emotions. She took in the guilt, the worry, the self-hatred, and tore at it with imaginary jaws, spitting it to one side.
No more of that. Only love, mate.
My own wolf howled his agreement. Only love.
My heart overflowing, my wolf close to the surface so he could experience this moment, I slid up and over her. I nudged her thighs apart, then pushed her up onto her knees, notching my cock at her entrance. She groaned in relief when I pushed forward, and began to thrust.