His gray suit was covered in... blood, I thought. My mind didn’t want it, but there were rusty brown speckles on what I could see of the fabric. His face was set in a stern scowl, and even though his fingers were soft on me, his muscles were tense. There were purple smudges under his eyes. How late was it? He seemed exhausted. Carefully I disentangled myself from Rowen.
For a moment I was scared because Cillian’s eyes were too wild and he bared his teeth at me when I sat up, but he’d been in my body last night, and whether I should or not, I trusted him. I leaned in and pecked a kiss to his lips.
He sighed and gave me a real kiss, roughly pulling me against his chest. He slid his hand down my back as I clung to him and stopped it right above my ass. When he was finished, he rested his forehead against my temple and panted, his hold on me too tight and a little painful.
“Rowen said you wanted to take care of me with him. You look like you need someone to take care of you right now.” I bumped my nose against his cheek.
“I feckin’ don’t.”
I stared at him, and he sighed, resting his forehead against my shoulder. “I’m worried about ye.”
“Don’t be. I’m right here. Come to bed with us.”
He growled. “Ye’re getting too close to the wrong men with yer digging around.”
“But—”
He hauled me onto his lap with a burst of strength that was frankly terrifying and smacked my ass once, hard enough to steal my breath. The pain frazzled me into being quiet, and he grabbed my chin and forced me to stare into his eyes.
“Ye have to drop it. I can’t stand this.Feck.Who the fuck are ye that I should feckin’ care what happens to ye?” His finger dug into my chin and hurt, but I didn’t dare try to shake him off.
“No one. Not really.”
“Don’t ye ever say that again,” he rasped out.
We were balanced on a knife edge, but I wasn’t sure what would make him kiss me and what would make him actually hurt me. I made myself trust him, and just as importantly, trust Rowen. He’d said Cillian wanted to be with me, and Rowen had known him a lot longer. “I can’t do what you’re asking.”
“Ye must.”
Shaking my head, I tugged on his hand. When he let me go, I turned and snuggled up to Rowen. I waited, hoping he would do what I wanted, and let out a breath I’d been holding as he curled himself around my back. “Cillian?”
“What the—” He took a deep breath and hugged me so tight I had to struggle for a breath. “Aye?”
“It’s lonely without you.” He didn’t say anything, and I turned to look over my shoulder. His brows dipped and he had the tiniest frown on his lips.
“Ye got Rowen.”
“Still, it’s lonely without you.”
He sighed. “Ye have to listen to me and Rowen about this shite.”
Turning back to Rowen, I let myself have a moment of rage over all this. “I just don’t understand why it’s a big deal.”
He bit my neck hard, and I stiffened from the pain—everywhere. I shivered when he let go and kissed the spot. “Ye payin’ attention? Do ye really not get it or do ye just want to write yer book and have everyone tell ye that ye’reoh so clever.”
Anger, the kind I hadn’t experienced in a long time, had me elbowing at Cillian, and I tried to sit up, but he only laughed and wrapped both arms around me.
Rowen grumbled in his sleep.
“So what? What if I do want that? It’s all I have. Is it so wrong to want to be the best at one goddamned thing?”
Cillian took a deep breath. “No, it’s not. But drop it. For me. For Rowen. At the very least, don’t focus on the Irish for feck’s sake.”
“That’s easy. No one is interested in the Irish mob anyway,” I snarked with no small amount of spite. He snickered. I hated being mad and didn’t like feeling this way at Cillian, and that made me even more angry for some reason. I tried to wriggle loose again, and he wouldn’t let me as he snorted out a laugh.
“Hey,” Rowen grumbled. “Feck, don’t hurt him. Cillian, he has to be up in the mornin’. Don’t keep him awake.”
Cillian grumbled under his breath, “How am I gettin’ yelled at now?”
