“Aye,” she says softly, always eager whenI offer.
She stays curled up against me until her eyes go half lidded and heavy while I read to her. Sometimes I stumble a bit over the words—never was one for academics and the like—but when I get into it, she smiles.
“What makes you smile?” I say, tugging a lock of her hair gently.
“You just get into the characters,” she murmurs. “It's cute.”
“Cute?” I tell her, pinching her nose lightly. She giggles, the sound warming something deep in my chest.
“You know, I think your family likes me,” she says softly in the darkness. “I didn't think they would.”
“Christ, why wouldn't they?” I run my hand through her hair, feeling the silk of it between my fingers. “You're easy to like.”
She tilts her head up, her dark eyes catching the moonlight through the window. “You think so?”
“I've always thought so.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “That was maybe the problem, wasn't it?”
Her lips curve into a small smile, and she kisses me, slow and sweet. I forget about Crowning and her mother and all the shite waiting to come down on us tomorrow. For a little while, it's just us. Just her.
And I have to remind myself, this is why. This is why I willkillMarcus Crowning.
The fight nightcomes faster than I want it to and not soon enough.
I'm in the main house with Bianca, both of us pretending this is normal. She's under a blanket on the sofa with a book about Camelot. I'm checking my phone over and over, flexing and putting lotion on my hands, an old habit before a fight, even though my hands are already scarred to hell.
“You're nervous,” she says, without looking up from her book.
“I'm not.”
“You've touched your phone six times in the last hour.”
I set my phone down. “Just making sure everything's in place.”
She closes her book and looks at me fully. “Worried?”
I don't answer right away. The silence stretches between us.
“Ashland,” she presses. “Do you think he's going to show up tonight or something?”
“Don't know,” I say, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. “Probably not. But if he does, I'm ready. We all are.” We fucking threw out that fishing line, didn’t we? Now we’re just waiting for the fucker to bite.
She stands and crosses to me, her hands sliding up my chest. “Maybe I should go?—”
“You have to stay here.”
“Why?” Her voice is small, almost pleading.
“Because Seamus asked. Because the family expects it.” I catch her wrists gently. “This is what I do, lass. I fight. And I won't let you be used as bait.”
“Butyou'rethe bait this time,” she says quietly. Her fingers curl into my shirt. “I wish you'd let me come with you.”
I grasp her wrists more firmly. “We discussed this. You stay here, where you're safe. Youhaveto be safe.”
Her eyes grow misty, and she swallows hard. “What aboutyou? Who’s keepingyousafe?”
I swallow the fuckin' lump rising in my throat.
“I'm always safe in the ring,” I tell her, gentler now. “I have my brother and cousins with me, don't I?” I kiss her. “Trust me. Seamus wouldn't throw me in like this if I wasn't ready.”
