"Not sure anyone would ever describe you as 'fine'," Saoirse smirked. "Psycho more like."
Ronan swung around and arched one eyebrow. "James left, by the way. Said something about meeting hisgirlfriend."
"Fuck you," Saoirse spat viciously.
He grinned before turning to me. "You alright, Pixie?" I rubbed my arm without thinking before his grin faded.
"That needs looking at before you get tetanus," he grumbled. "Come here and let me clean it up."
"It's fine, I can sort it." Being close to Ronan again was a terrible idea. Conal turned to his brother.
"Go clean yourself up first, bro. You're a mess. I'll fix Verity's arm." Without waiting for a reply, Conal took my wrist and led me out of the suite.
"Are the police here yet?" I asked as he walked us downstairs. Servants scurried around while armed guards escorted the last remaining guests to their vehicles.
"No. And they won't be coming."
Discarded glasses and plates of food lay abandoned on every surface. I spotted a lone shoe and wondered who'd elected to walk out in just one shoe. Cinderella?
When we reached the kitchen, Declan stood with one of his men, talking intently, an unhappy expression on his face. He looked up and frowned at me, giving me a quick once-over. I noticed how his gaze lingered on my chest before returning to my face.
"Are you hurt?"
I shook my head, surprised at the soft tone of his voice. "No."
"She has a nasty scratch that needs cleaning."
"Let me see." Declan barked something at his men and they left. He crossed the kitchen in two long strides to check out my non-life-threatening wound. Honestly, anyone would think I was some delicate Victorian maiden the way these guys treated me.
When Saoirse broke her arm falling from a tree, nobody batted an eye. Yet I had a scratch and they acted like I might die from sepsis in the next five minutes?
"Really, it's OK. I just need a plaster."
Declan ignored my assessment. "Looks nasty. Have you had a tetanus in the last five years?"
"Yes."
"OK, good." He dipped his chin at Conal. "Clean it and then cover it with a dressing."
Conal rolled his eyes in disdain. "Yes, Dec. I'm not an idiot."
"Are you OK apart from this?" Declan smelled of fresh sweat and something spicy.Delicious. I noted a few bloodstains on his shirt, but he seemed less bloody than the twins.
I blinked. Why was everyone suddenly so concerned about my welfare? Had Thea threatened them all with violence if I broke a fingernail or something?
"I'm alive, so I guess so." His eyes narrowed at my somewhat snappy reply.
"Aliveis a low bar. I was hoping for a more positive rating on our hospitality, Verity."
The way he towered over me made my heart speed up. Declan was taller and broader than the twins; physically intimidating. No wonder people acted scared around him. If I hadn't grown up around the Kellys, he'd scare me, too.
"Alive is the best I can offer right now," I admitted, although my mood was lighter than it had been since I arrived, which I found baffling. Who knew a hefty dose of adrenaline was all Ineeded to shift the fog of apathy and depression hanging over my head?
Declan didn't look at all happy at my admission, but his phone rang and the minute his attention drifted away, I let Conal guide me to a chair on the opposite side of the room.
He pulled a medical kit from a drawer and expertly cleaned my scratch before placing a protective dressing over it.
"Did Ronan get his arm dressed?" I hadn’t forgotten how badly it had been bleeding.
