I take Marco’s drink and turn away before I walk over and slam her against a wall just to taste her.
This is going to be a long year.
Chapter 5
Aoife
My lungs still burn. Not from training, not from sore muscles or fresh bruises.
From him.
His stare branded between my shoulder blades, sinking into my bones and dragging up something I don’t even have a name for. He watched me like prey, already caught, too dumb to notice.
What is this game we’re playing? How can one moment on the edge of a cliff have us trapped in this dance with danger?
Even thinking of his name sends a ripple through my chest, hot and sharp. I’d heard the stories. Everyone has, but stories don’t come with the smell of cigarettes and wood, shoulders which are strong and big or a jaw that tense when he looks at you like you’re already his.
The air shifted when he moved. Every time his foot hit the ground, it echoed in me. I could feel everything he was doing, even from the other side of the room.
And I hate that. Hate how I felt it. It made me clench the blade tighter in my hand because I wanted him to saysomething, even if it was cruel. Just to break the silence between us.
I’m meant to hate him. Fuck, he’s meant to despise me and where I’m from.
I reach my hallway and find Conor posted at my door like a sentry, posture sharp, eyes narrow, jaw locked. Cousin. Shadow. Uncle Liam and my father made sure he knew to keep an eye on me while I’m here. Why send me here at all, when I’m already promised to an old man I don’t want?
“What the fuck was that?” His voice cuts.
I stop. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. He was watching you. Matteo Messina.” He spits the name like poison, as if he wants to hurt him for just being born.
Heat crawls up my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t? Because the rest of the Circle sure as hell did.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t even see him.” I almost yell at him. I try to shove past him, but he grabs my arm, not hard, but hard enough to stop me.
“You might not have looked at him, but he sure as hell was looking at you. You’re engaged,” he growls. “To a man with power. With history. That ring isn’t just for show, Aoife. It means something.”
“Yeah. It means I’m property.”
His grip tightens, but the words stay brutal.
I meet his eyes. “Go ahead, tell Uncle Liam I said that.”
He lets go, stepping back like my words sting, and I have to laugh because they don’t. I was born only to be sold to whomever they feel like selling me to.
“I’m not your enemy. But he is. Stay the hell away from him.”
I don’t answer. I don’t nod. I go inside, and the worst part is, I know Conor’s right.
But still, I can’t stop thinking about the way Matteo looked under the lights. His shirt clung to every ridge of muscle like it was part of his skin. His neck was damp with sweat. His fists, bruised and bleeding, and beside him, that girl, long legs, fierce eyes. Someone who probably belongs in his world.
Unlike me.
I strip off my clothes and step into the shower, the water too hot, steam filling the room. The burn doesn’t scrub him off me and he hasn’t even touched me. My fingers curl into fists, pressing against the cold tile.
Why him? Why now? How does one look feel like something I’ll never recover from?
