(It’s as close as I can maintain an insubordinate gaze on an alpha—even if it is just Finn.)
“That was inappropriate,” I growl.
Finn pretends to nod thoughtfully. If it weren’t for that stupid smile playing around his mouth, I’d believe he was honestly considering what he did. “And how did that make you feel?”
I can’t stifle my snarl.
His teeth—quickly sharpening into fangs he’s so delighted at my unprecedented display of aggression—flash pearly white and deadly as he grins.
It makes the wolf in me shiver to see it.
But I ignore him baiting me, and rebuke him. “That was disrespectful to Susan.”
“And that pissed you off,” Finn says, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. Downright unnatural if he were human. Right now, he’s rapidly crossing the bridge to his shifter side, his jaw beginning to lengthen, his fingers tensing, bunching into an as yet furless paw. Finn is gifted at controlling the speed of his Changes. But it takes work. It also takes practice—probably why he let me hit him, now that I’m clear-headed enough to think on it.
Normally, when we experience an attack, we react in an unstoppable Change. Not so with Finn. He’s got enough experience at controlling his creature side that he can even reverse his Changes.
A process which he begins to undergo right before my eyes. “I hope that hurts like a mother,” I confess.
“ih’Does,” he heaves, his teeth staining red as he coughs and his bone structure returns to the form of a human skull instead of the nightmarish blend of man and killer animal. “But,” he says, the word garbled because he’s got his lips drawn sideways, his tongue testing his teeth again. “You knocked a premolar hard enough it was rocking,” he finishes normally, completely human once again, and completely uninjured. “Well done, lad.”
He glances down and retrieves his cell phone from where it skidded across the floor, stands, unlocks it, and proceeds to open up our texted conversation—the same one that led me here in an unprecedented rage.
What he sent me is burned into my brain.
ME: What are you playing at?
FINN: Is this about that sexy outfit Susan’s wearing today?
FINN: All day. It’s bound to be a sight.
FINN: You there Deek? I’m feeling very spiritual today, so it’s probably good we’re talking about it. Preacher, I have a confession.
ME: Quit it, Finn. I’m serious.
FINN: Oh, that’s right. We’re not Catholic. Still, God loves me. And I’ve got to tell you: Sue’s got the juiciest ass. I can’t wait to see it stretching those shorts.
ME: Finn? Fuck. Off. Leave Susan alone.
FINN: Why?
FINN: Look, I tried to talk about this yesterday in the civilization of Sue’s basement, but you kept growling at me every time I said her name.
FINN: I’m getting the signal that you’ve found your anamchara in her. And yesterday, I saw that she’s responding to you.
ME: She’s yours. I’m just here to help her.
FINN: Oh. So you’re still planning to leave when she doesn’t need you anymore?
ME: That’s right.
FINN: So what I’m hearing is that it’s open season on hunting Sue.
FINN: Oh! Look who just walked in. JAYSUS, WATCH HER GO! Here. I’ll share the view with you.
PICTURE: *Sue’s long, long hair corkscrews softly and trails down her back, drawing the eye to the flare of her beautiful hips and her incredible ass in the world’s most indecent shorts.*
PICTURE CAPTION: If you’re not going to hit it, boyo, I will.
Replaying what his last words did to me, I dig into Maggie’s backpack and draw out what’s left of my phone.
Finn’s eyes bug out of his head. “You feckin’ CRUSHED it!” His expression is normally reserved for the pride a parent feels when their offspring does something surprising and exceptionally good. “Deek! You’re growing up so well.”
“Shut up.” We’re the same age.
Finn swipes the phone off of my hand, examining the cracks in the screen, the crushed plastic with five distinct imprints of extreme pressure. “I s’pose you’ll need a new one.”
“Only if I want to talk to you.”
Finn grins but doesn’t meet my gaze, just letting me watch his face. Although he can act like a real prick, he can also be very mindful of a submissive’s instinct to avoid any form of direct stares. “If there’s no way to communicate, I won’t be able to tell you things about Sue.”
I can count the pores on his cheeks, but I can’t so much as see a bruise on his jaw where I hit him. I glare