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“To check on you,” he says, strangely kind. “Losing your virginity isn’t as simple as changing a shirt. And you lost it in front of an audience. I wanted to take care of you.”

My vision waters. It’s the first time someone showed me concern because they wanted to, not because it was required. Blinking, I dart my gaze to the left, lip trembling.

“Are you okay, Sunshine?” He pulls my face back, stroking the hair from my face. “Did I hurt you?”

Silently, I shake my head. No. Not physically. And if I’m honest, not emotionally either. If I had to give my virginity away, I’m glad it went to the man who stalks me from the shadows. A man who’s stolen pieces of my heart at his leisure, and left me yearning for more.

“You have something of mine,” I sign. “Let me have something of yours.”

“You already do.” He smirks. “You weren’t the only virgin on stage tonight.”

My brow furrows. “If that’s true, what about the man you loved?”

“I loved from afar.” He pecks my lips, chuckling. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted enough to lose my damn mind over.”

“Okay,” I say, voice hoarse. “But still. I want one thing from you.”

“Name it.”

He says it so easily. He would give me the moon if I asked for it—I have no doubt. It’s so crazy, I can’t help but smile.

“Your face,” I sign. “I want to see it. Please.”

He considers, glancing around. Here in the bright bathroom, surrounded by white tile and very little else, he can’t hide. If I’m bare, he has to be, too.

Nodding once, he reaches over his head to pull off the sweatshirt. There isn’t another shirt, and no other layers between us. Over his back, I make out the barest scars from various fights and brawls on his pale, translucent skin. Blue veins run throughout his body, crisscrossing over corded muscles.

The sweatshirt falls in a plop next to him, and my eyes lock onto the crest on his chest.

Three long, golden lions are etched across a red shield. Around it is a tartan of blue, green, red, and saffron. My chest heaves, and my lungs constrict. The room depletes of oxygen—or maybe that’s me.

I know that crest.

He turns, and I swallow, praying not to see the familiar green eyes of his family line.

I’m sorely disappointed.

Two green, jagged emeralds stare at me, covered in heavy lashes and dark brows. His pale face sports a firm jaw with a day’s-old stubble. Those heavy bangs fall over his forehead, but at one temple is a scar, another thinner one, by his ear.

I don’t want to admit it—but he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Cut, sharp, he’s a piece of glass ready to slice my finger.

And my family’s enemy.

“You’re an O’Brien.” My voice shakes, terror coursing through me.

I’ve heard the stories. The captain of the O’Brien clan had four children. His eldest carries the title of captain now, feared for her mercilessness. The second oldest is a doctor with a knack for torture. The youngest, whom I met, is a capo’s wife, with more power than most women will ever have by way of marriage.

That leaves the youngest. A boy. Who was banished from the clan when he was a child.

“Briar?”

He smirks slightly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Panic hits me in the sternum like a dart. I cannot have an O’Brien in my room. What if Roman finds out? I’m already on thin ice—he’ll disown me. Or worse.

I rush from the tub, tripping over my feet, and grab the robe from the back of the door. He tries to grab my hand, but I spin away.

Searching my bedroom, I realize how fucking stupid I am. I’m trapped with an O’Brien.