I jerk my head at him, because I’m watching her reaction. She stills at the sound of my name and tries to crane her head to look at me, but she can’t see me from where she sits.
“Oh, I’m good, brother. You?”
“Right as rain,” he says with a grin.
“You the one who brought her here?”
Cormac sobers, looks to the girl, then nods. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but watches her.
“Aye. Keenan’s orders, brother.” His tone is apologetic. No doubt Keenan told him my purpose, and Cormac knows I’d have preferred being the one who brought her here.
“Sorry, mate,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his brow.
I shrug. “Keenan’s orders, you had no choice.” But my tone holds an edge I can’t control. “But you tell the others, Cormac.” His brows rise. I rarely give the others orders, but I fucking mean it now. “I’m the only one that lays a hand on her from here on out.”
Cormac nods. “Aye, brother, you have my word.”
His word. The Clan’s most powerful verbal contract.
“Tell all of them. The guards. Our brothers. She’s my charge now.”
“I’m no one’s bloody charge!” she screams.
I smile at Cormac and nod toward the door. “I’ll take it from here, brother.”
Cormac pushes away from the desk and heads to the door.
“Sideboard’s recently filled.” Cormac looks with concern at my injuries. “Could use a drop of the good stuff, aye?”
I nod. “Will do, thanks.”
He leaves. The door shuts behind him, and I throw the deadbolt.
She’s fuming, muttering under her breath, as I take out my phone and text my brothers.
I’ve got her in the library. Please ensure we aren’t disturbed. Where will I bring her when we’re finished here?
A few responses come back immediately.
Lachlan: Good luck, brother
Nolan: Aye, no disturbing the peace
Keenan: Your room will be prepared.
I smile grimly. Thank you.
I hear a scuffle of feet outside the door, guards put in place to keep anyone out.
“You let me out!” Aisling screams behind me. “If you don’t, I’ll fucking scream until I’m–”
“You will not.” My voice is casual, but it holds weight. She listens.
Make my day, little girl.
“Scream again, and I’ll gag you.” I go to the sideboard and pour myself a shot of Jameson. I inhale the pungent fumes, close my eyes, then down it in one gulp. I welcome the burning sensation that heats me to my belly, place the shot glass down, then grab a larger glass. She’s quiet as I pick up the ice with my tongs and drop it into the glass. I uncork the bottle of scotch and take my time mixing myself a drink. Once I’m done, I walk around in front of her.
She sits across from a large, overstuffed armchair and a footstool. I place my glass on the table, sit down, and cross my ankles, watching her. Christ, even now, she’s gorgeous.
The rope’s tight about her body, and the scant clothing she’s wearing’s torn. Her skin’s chaffed where she’s strained against the rope, reddened and puckered. I want to loosen her bonds, lay her out, and kiss the places where the rope dug into her, but even as I let my imagination roam, I can imagine what I’d do with those ropes. How I’d bind her. How I’d have my way with her, unable to stop me.
Even with her wild blonde hair and her bright blue-gray eyes narrowed in anger, there’s something about her that draws me to her. She’s savage and fierce, nearly begging to be conquered.
She opens her mouth as I sip my drink, and I hold up a finger.
“Careful, Aisling,” I say, my tone laced with warning. “I meant every fucking word I said. You scream again, and I’ll gag you. Be a good girl, and I’ll untie your bonds. Now which will it be?”
Chapter 6
Aisling
Somewhere hidden deep in the recesses of my mind, I remember who he is. And maybe even who I was. Tiernan, Fiona’s older brother, but I knew him when I was a different person, in another place and time.
But right now, I can’t think beyond the pain in my body and my deep craving for a fix. Every single fucking night is when I get what I need.
Except tonight.
My limbs are shaking, and I’m agitated. My legs keep twitching, and even my neck can’t seem to stay straight. My heart is racing, my blood boiling, and it isn’t from anger. I need a fix. I need to ease the tremors in my body and ache in my heart. I need to numb the pain that courses through my veins.
I’m breaking out in a cold sweat. First, I need him to untie me.
“Please,” I say, my voice hoarse for some reason. Why is my voice hoarse? I have some dim realization that I was screaming, but I couldn’t stop myself until he threatened a gag. I can’t breathe with a gag, and the thought terrifies me.
He watches me, his dark green eyes stern, narrowed on me. I know this is Tiernan, and if I were in my right mind, I’d know how to process that. But right now, I can’t think beyond the need to slide a needle in my veins and relieve the torment that riddles my body.
“Please,” I repeat, closing my eyes because I’m crying, and I fucking hate crying. “Please make it stop,” I whisper.
He watches me, takes another sip from his glass, then slides it on the table beside him. He rises, and for one brief moment in time, I let my gaze roam over him.
He’s grown up, a full grown man now, the reddish hair darkened and a little on the longer side, and he wears a full beard. He’s all angles and planes and power, intimidating as hell with his muscled grace and strength as he walks toward me. He smells strong and masculine, like pine and whiskey and tobacco smoke, and as he nears, my body begins to respond. My shaking intensifies, as terror fills me.
He crouches in front of me, resting his arms on his knees, his large fingers laced together. “Please what?” His voice is rough and deep, commanding my attention.
I swallow hard. “The pain,” I whisper. My voice, in such sharp contrast to his, wavers. “Give me what I need. I’ll give you anything you fucking want.”
The shaking stills when he reaches a hand out to me. He cups my jaw, his thumb tracing the side of my face.
“You’re strung out,” he says, a note of unmistakable anger in his voice. “You’re fucking looking for a hit.”
I close my eyes, and this time, even through my haze, I’m ashamed. He doesn’t know the girl I am now. He knows the girl I once was. I want to hide from him.
“Please,” I whisper again, opening my eyes reluctantly to plead. “I’ll do bloody anything.”
He shakes his head from side to side, and realization begins to dawn on me. I’m prisoner here. I won’t be able to escape. And there’s no fucking way I’ll be able to get what I need.
Fury consumes me. I open my mouth and howl, tears of rage and hopelessness streaming down my cheeks. “Let me go! Let me fucking go! I’ll call the police! I’ll scream! I’ll fucking kill you, I swear to God I will!”
He shakes his head once, from side to side, raises to his feet, and goes back to his drink. Unperturbed. Barely ruffled. He watches me with cold, narrowed eyes as he slugs the rest in one gulp. He slams the glass down on the table so hard it shatters, the only indication that I’ve affected him. But I don’t stop. I scream again, and again, even though I know I’ll regret this, because it’s the only release I can get.