Page 165 of The Violet Raven

Her words strike something deep within me in the best way. I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering as I murmur, “Ye’ll always be safe with me.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t know a man could go three times in one night.”

Her cheeky comment catches me off guard, and I burst into laughter, the sound loud and full, shaking away the quiet reverence of the moment. But the laughter fades quickly as I look at her, something serious settling in my chest. “I’ve never slept with anyone else,” I admit, my voice steady, my gaze locked on hers. “But I know it never would have felt as right as this does... with you.”

Her eyes soften, a flicker of emotion passing through them that makes my chest tighten. “Last night…” she begins, her voice trailing off as if she couldn’t quite find the words.

“Was everything.” I finish for her, my thumb brushing over her cheek. “All I’ve ever wanted. Everything I’ll ever want.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?” she asks, though the question feels more like a declaration, as if she believes the answer already.

I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Aye, Triona. I mean it with every part of me. As I said last night—ye’re mine now.”

Her lips part, as if to respond, but she leans up and kisses me. It’s slow, deliberate—a kiss that seals the words between us. When she pulls back, her smile returns, soft and radiant, leaving me feeling as if I’m the luckiest man alive.

But then her expression shifts, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. “Finn,” she begins cautiously, her voice quieter now. “I don’t… I don’t think we should tell my brothers just yet.”

Her words hit me like a stone. I keep my expression neutral, though disappointment bites sharply. “And why’s that?” I ask, keeping my voice steady even as my grip on her hand tightens slightly.

She sighs, sitting up slightly, the sheet slipping down to pool around her waist. The sight of her naked form before me, so vulnerable and beautiful, tempers some of my frustration. “It’s not that I don’t want them to know,” she says quickly, as if she can feel my tension. “It’s just… you know how they are. They’ll overreact. Casey will have something to say about it, and Callan—well, Callan will probably throw a punch before we can even explain.”

Her attempt at humour falls thin, her smile apologetic. I nod slowly, shifting to lean back against the headboard. “So, what then?” I ask, my tone even. “We pretend none of this happened? Act like I didnae hold you all night? As if I dinnae love you with everything I am?”

Her eyes widen, and she reaches for me, her hand curling around my forearm. “No, Finn, not at all. This—us—it’s real. It’s everything. I just… I want to keep it ours for a little while longer. Before the chaos starts.”

I study her, my jaw tightening despite myself. Her logic makes sense, but it doesn’t make it easier to swallow. I want the world to know she’s mine. I want her brothers to see it, to respect it. Hell, I’d even welcome a fight if it meant claiming her openly. Because I’d fight for her—every damn time.

Her gaze softens further, her fingers stroking over my arm as she whispers, “Please, Finn. Just a little while longer. For us.”

I exhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax even as my heart feels heavy. “Aye, Triona,” I say finally, my voice quieter. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll respect it.”

Her face lights with relief, and she presses a quick kiss to my lips. “I thank you, love. I know what an ask it must be,” she murmurs.

I give her a faint smile, though frustration simmers beneath the surface. I’ve given her my word, and I have the intention to keep it. But that doesn’t mean it sits well with me. Keeping quiet feels wrong. She deserves to be claimed, to be celebrated. And the thought of waiting—of hiding what we share—feels like denying the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Still, I say nothing more, pulling her back into my arms and holding her close. My mind churns with the weight of her request, a quiet storm I can’t seem to calm. Her warmth against me is both a comfort and a torment—a reminder of what I have and what I can’t yet claim.

She rests her head on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns against skin. “You’re my rock, Finn,” she whispers, so soft I almost miss it.

I press my lips to the top of her head, closing my eyes against the ache in my chest. “And ye’re my world,” I murmur back, though the words feel too small for what I mean.

For now, I’ll wait. For her, I’d do anything. But as the silence stretches between us, I can’t help but wonder how long I can keep this part of myself locked away—how long before the truth demands to be spoken, no matter the cost?

I move with sharp, controlled precision, striking at an invisible opponent, every movement fueled by the restless energy surging beneath my skin. Sweat drips down my back, proof of how long I’d been at it—how long I’d been trying to fight off the thoughts chasing me. Training alone wasn’t unusual, but today, every strike felt more desperate. Stopping meant thinking—about promises made, about the weight of waiting. And I wasn’t ready for that.

But my muscles stay tense, my thoughts refuse to quiet. Every time I close my eyes, I see her—feel her—hear her. It’s maddening, and I’m once again trapped with a truth I’ve long kept hidden.

A familiar voice cuts into a thought spiral. “You keep fighting like that, and you’ll end up knocking your own head off.”

I glance over my shoulder to find Bran leaning against a post, arms folded, watching me like he already knows something’s off. I grit my teeth, refusing to slow.

He waits a beat before stepping closer. “All right, out with it. What’s got you so pent up?”

I hesitate for all of two seconds before the words rush out like a dam breaking.

“The night of the ball—when Triona stormed out—and I chased her… we got in a heated argument, tempers flarin’, both of us talkin’ over each other. Then, out of nowhere, this couple started goin’ at it in an alcove close to us. And we just… stopped and watched the show.”

Bran blinks. “Wait. What?”