“Is this guy coercing you?” Damian asked, jerking a thumb in Cillian’s direction. God, he couldn’t be stupider. He lowered his tone. “Guys like him—they’re dangerous. You don’t want to get caught spending too much time with them.”
The threat lay heavy in his tone, in the flash of his eyes, and my anger toward him multiplied.
Before I could respond, Cillian spoke up. “I’m fucking him so well he doesn’t want to return to his old life.”
I licked my lips, not bothering to hide my grin. He wasn’t wrong. Cillian’s golden eyes flashed as they met mine, a hint of a smirk on his lips, and fuck. I was enamored. The way he brazenly barreled in like he owned every space transfixed me. When I’d first arrived at the Spires, I’d loathed his attitude the most. But used in my defense? Yeah, my feelings had changed.
Damian’s face contorted as he stared at me differently. Like I wasn’t the person he’d chased after for years. That look—I knew that look from growing up in a small town. I knew the ugliness that lurked beneath, the hatred that bubbled there.
“With amonster?” Damian’s emphasis on monster lingered in the air, the censure evident. His volume was loud enough that I could feel the press of eyes on us from all directions, but I kept my back straight, facing him head-on.
Damian let out a disgusted huff. “Fine, Beau. Don’t come crying to me when he’s ruined you.”
Tension roiled between us, especially from said monster who stood at my back, barely restraining himself. This wouldn’t end well for any of us.
“You know, because I’m a commodity,” I said dryly, trying to slice through the pressure.
Damian scowled and turned on his heel. To my relief, he marched out of the coffee shop, his stomps resounding through the place. I doubt he’d really heard what I said, but in all honesty, he never heard me anyway. Relief rushed in as the casual chatter throughout the coffee shop resumed, as patrons stopped looking in our direction.
Cillian took a sip of his coffee. “So, who was that?”
I snorted, and we stepped away from the handoff pane. “My old neighbor who refused to take a hint.”
“I can see as much,” Cillian said, pushing the front door open for me. I hated the loss of his hand at my back, as the steady warmth had grounded me better than anything else. The waning golden sunbeams cascaded down on us, and I soaked them in. I wasn’t sure when we’d take another trip outside the Spires, so I wanted to savor every minute of this one.
We stepped toward the car, when movement in front of us caught my attention.
A woman strode our way, the clip of her heels on the sidewalk echoing. Cillian froze.
The thing was, I recognized her, but not from meeting her in person. Her ebony hair was pulled back into a perfunctory bun, and her red pantsuit clung to her body in all the right ways, a dip in the front showcasing her creamy cleavage.
“Olivia,” Cillian growled, his voice half feral. “What are you doing here?” He stepped in front of me. Apparently it was a day for interferences. Annoyance rushed through me at the sight of her, and I hated that she was even prettier in person than the pictures depicted.
“Word on the street was that you were taking a jaunt through town today,” she said, an icy coolness to her voice that coated a layer of frost over everything. “Enjoying the sunlight while you still can?”
“I’m on a date,” Cillian said. “Which is none of your business, or Thorin’s. Your jealousy is unbecoming.”
Well, Cillian didn’t need any of my help in being rude, as he’d perfected the art himself. Still, his mentioning it as a date sent a flush of warmth through me.
“Ah, so you’re trying?” she asked, the words coming out in a taunt. “Good luck. The smarter move would just be to accept Thorin’s deal.”
“Never,” Cillian snarled. “And tell your master to stay the hell away from Beau.”
“This is him?” she asked, scrutinizing me.
“I’m right here,” I pointed out. “It’s bad manners to talk about someone in front of their face.”
Cillian’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, as if he thought I’d be taken from him. The possessiveness thrilled me but scared me at the same time, because Cillian’s defense felt less like jealousy and more like protection. As if danger could be lurking around the corner.
“And pressuring me won’t make me cave either,” Cillian spat out. “So you can tell him to call off his puppets.”
Olivia let out a small noise of amusement. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Of course you don’t.” Cillian was brimming at this point, the rage pouring off him. “Leave me alone, Liv. Haven’t you already done enough damage?”
Her chin jutted out, and the first flicker of anything piercing her composure descended. “There’s always room for more.”
With that, she swept past us, her heels clacking on the pavement before she disappeared into the coffee shop. Cillian’sarm wrapped protectively around me as he ushered us toward the car.
