A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,73

Finley was more than aware of his strength and how easily he could snap her neck.

Not that he had any intention of that.

No, he merely enjoyed having her captive and listening to him without any further interruptions.

Dipping his face even closer to hers, he reminded her of something she should never forget. “You’re in danger right this very moment, Miss Porter, because sometimes it seems better to just let you die and let the whole world burn.”

Carrick expected that to bank the flames of her anger, but instead, he was caught off guard by the flash of pain he saw in those exquisitely unique eyes of gold, green, and blue.

“Then why don’t you?” she whispered. He felt her breath across his lips, which was a torture he couldn’t handle, so he pulled his head back just a bit. “It’s clear you hate me. Why don’t you just do it yourself and get it over with?”

Carrick couldn’t stop the flinch of surprise because she wasn’t being obstinate. She was being truthful.

His hand loosened from her throat and fell away. “I don’t hate you.”

“But you do,” Finley declared vehemently. She squatted, causing Carrick to back up a few more steps to watch her. After opening her backpack on the floor, she pulled out her sketchbook and removed what looked like a torn and crumpled drawing.

Straightening, she held it up for him to see and he was shocked that it was the charcoal portrait she had done of him. He had studied it that night he broke into her house and searched for clues.

She had clearly meant to destroy it at some point as it was torn free of the book, smeared and crushed, but still unmistakably him. “This was you… the moment you first laid eyes on me,” she snarled.

Carrick studied the drawing, remembering that moment vividly. While his portrait was slightly smeared, it still accurately portrayed what Finley thought she saw.

“That’s hate in your expression, Carrick. From the start, it was there.”

Not true, Carrick thought. She’d clearly missed the surprise, the confusion, and then the despair.

But what she recorded in her drawing wasn’t hate.

Never, ever hate.

Feeling empty of any emotion and devoid of any desire to continue this discussion, Carrick ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “We need to talk about Faere.”

Moving past Finley, he stepped up to the recessed butler’s pantry that served as a minibar and poured two glasses of bourbon.

Turning, he found Finley watching him with a wariness that was probably well deserved. He held the drink out to her, waiting the moment she needed to lay the drawing back in her sketchpad and slide it into her backpack.

Upon straightening, she took the drink proffered and then followed him into the living area where he took a seat in one of the gray velvet chairs to the side of the massive center fireplace.

Finley took the chair adjacent to him and sipped at her drink, clearly accepting the fact he wasn’t going to engage her any further about that stupid drawing or what she may or may not have seen that night.

Carrick stared at her for a while, wondering just how he could control someone so spirited. Just as he knew that throughout this journey, she was going to be the type of woman who would always buck against his authority and control. Finley was going to get herself into bad situations, and he was going to be a glorified babysitter to a woman that drove him crazy on so many levels.

“We’re leaving tomorrow for Faere,” Carrick announced, and Finley’s eyes lit with genuine delight, her previous ire draining from her expression. “Stan will be here early to take us through the veil.”

“Do I need to pack anything?” she asked.

Carrick gave a slight nod, gaze going to his bourbon. “Just what you can take in your backpack. A change of clothes is all you need. We won’t be there long, but you do need to know a few things.”

“Of course,” Finley said, sitting forward on the edge of the seat, clearly excited to be going and ready to learn. She held her bourbon in between her hands, but otherwise ignored it.

Setting his glass down on a small table beside his chair, Carrick leaned forward in his chair and angled his body toward Finley’s. He needed her to pay attention.

“I know I’ve told you this before, but never, ever forget that most fae—especially Light Fae—hate humans. Their sheer numbers forced them from this earthly realm. As such, you