A Runaway Mate

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Rebel’s Point of View.

 

            There was two pack members supporting me, their hands resting on my hips to assist me in standing. My body ached and burned, my clothes soaked from the rain, but I couldn’t have been happier to see the familiar house. Multiple people stood out of the front door—their eyes wide with surprise and hushed whispers spread over them. I recognized a few faces from the warehouse.

            Loud footsteps echoed through the house and a demanding voice met my ears. Finn appeared in a rush, stopping underneath the threshold of the front door. Dark circles underlined his eyes and his hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled. I was only gone for a couple of days and his face seemed to be sunken in.

            I tried smiling, leaning my weight on the two boys. “Hope y’all didn’t start the party without me.”

            Finn stood statue still, his hard eyes trying to decipher if I was real or an image. His body had stiffened at my gruff voice, his eyes blinking repeatedly as his hands balled together to stop from shaking.  

            “Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna give me a kiss, Fluffy?” I joked, grimacing as I chuckled.

            Finn snapped from his trance as he jumped down the stairs. He nearly stumbled over his feet as he ran to me, his arm engulfing me into a hug. Musk and a woodsy scent surrounded me, the smell of Finn. I buried my nose into his chest, trying to burn the scent into my brain. Pain blossomed on throughout my body but I pushed it to the side. Finn's nose nuzzled into the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent. He sighed in contentment and I wrapped my better arm around his lean waist, fisting his shirt. I could only hope he didn't mind my clothes being wet or the stench of gasoline. 

            When Finn pulled away—his piercing eyes gleaming with unshed tears—his hand cupped around my bruise, blood splattered face. His forehead leaned against mine, his eyes slipping closed. “It’s really you,” he whispered then snapped his eyes open. “Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear me?” The statement started as a demand then flowed into a plea.

            “Aye, aye, captain.”

            “I love you—like, I'm completely in love with you.”

            “I really love you, too, surprisingly.”

            Finn chuckled, his lips pressing against mine. In the far distance, a cheer erupted from the crowed we had gathered. My heart leapt in my throat, beating so hard I thought Finn could feel through his chest. The pain that I was once bathed in became something of the past, my only thought consisted of his lips.

            Reluctantly, Finn pulled away. Our eyes connected and I saw that his pupils were dilated, the chocolate color of his irises almost non-existent. The muscle in his jaw twitched, his hands balled my shirt and I realized he was holding back an urge he didn’t wish to commit in front of people. Excitement rolled through me.

            As I came down back to reality, my bruised cheeks flushed as I heard that the crowed was still cheering. Some of the teenaged boys yelled things that caused Finn to cast them an authority glare. They quieted but continued to snicker. Finn’s hand found my own, and being mineful of the shoeprint shaped bruise, he gingerly pulled me towards the house. But he paused, his eyes honing in onto my my swollen ankle.

            I smiled sheepishly upon seeing anger and concern flash in his eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, it doesn’t hurt,” I offered lamely.