by Jane Henry
I watch them brawl, my eyes on Lachlan. He fights with such effortless ease, it’s like a dance. Tiernan’s far clumsier, but I’m proud of my brother. He’s learned so much.
I love the way Lachlan instructs him, both patient and stern. My heart is hammering in my chest and my palms are all sweaty, when Lachlan speaks louder.
“And always, always, keep your eyes wide open. Never cover them. Notice everything.”
Uh oh. Has he seen me?
He holds up his hands for the fight to pause, then jerks his chin at the bush I’m behind.
“Come out, Fiona,” he says. “No need to hide.”
With a stifled groan, I stand and walk into the clearing, trying to brush it off.
“Didn’t want to disturb you, of course,” I say, but it’s hard to speak when your mouth’s all dry.
“Aye,” Lachlan says, his stern gaze now fixed on me. “Was just giving your brother a lesson.” He tips his head to the side, warning in his look and tone. “Do you need one, too?”
Oh, I know he wants to command me. Don’t I know it. I know he wants to fuck me. But I wanted to bring him pleasure so badly, when he told me to stop I could hardly bring myself to obey.
Plus, I like seeing his eyes go hard and that muscle twitch in his jaw. I like when he overpowers me. I like it when he punishes me.
I think.
The look he’s giving me right now has me second-guessing myself. Have I gotten in too deep here?
“Clothes off,” he says. He’s scowling at me. I can still feel his heat all over me, even though he’s wiped me down. I can still feel the hickey he left on my neck and chest, still feel his fingers in my hair.
Warily, I obey. Will he… hurt me?
“Are you going to punish me?”
He kneels in front of me and parts my legs. “Disobedience will always earn punishment, sweet girl,” he says. “And if you trust me, you’ll learn to trust even that.”
Without warning, he bends and bites my thigh, hard enough that I scream in pain and throw my head back. Then he laps the pink spot where he bit me and spreads my legs apart further.
“Your mouth on my cock was the stuff of dreams, lass,” he says. “But you let me handle how this goes. Do you understand me?” I nod. With that, he bites me again.
“And if I see fit to punish you, I will.”
Now I’m really starting to be afraid. “Yes,” I say with a nod. “I-okay, so I get that.”
“Do you?” he asks. All I’m wearing now is my knickers, but he makes short work of yanking them down my thighs, before he buries his mouth between my legs and drags his tongue along my slit.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “Lachlan, it’s too much. It’s too… oh, God.”
I feel like I’m going to come apart, like I’m going to break right open, as he laps me again and again, until I’m writhing and on the cusp of coming.
“You come,” he orders me with a pinch to my bottom. “Come.”
His tongue makes short work of bringing me to climax on his mouth again, until I’m writhing beneath him. I can’t breathe or think, even the spasms that take over are out of my control.
He licks me over and over until the spasms cease and suddenly, I’m so sensitive, and still he does not stop.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Oh, God, Lachlan. I’m too sensitive. Please…”
Still, he doesn’t stop. “Will you obey me?” he whispers, with another agonizing swipe of his tongue.
I nod. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“And what happens to naughty girls who don’t do as they’re told?” he says with another torturous lick.
“They—oh, God—they get punished.”
I never knew sex could be a form of punishment until now.
“Please stop,” I beg. I’m so sensitized it almost hurts, when he plunges two fingers in my core and pumps.
“You sure?” he asks. I can’t take anymore. It’s too much, too fucking much.
I nod, surprised to find I can hardly breathe.
Mercifully, he pulls his mouth off of me and kisses the bites on my thigh, my belly, up the column of my neck and the slopes of my arms. Bite, lick, suckle, God.
“That’s enough, now,” he says. He comes up to me on the couch and tugs me to his chest. “Have you learned your lesson?”
I nod. I’m surprisingly a little shaky. He draws his arms over me. I feel remorseful for not obeying him, for trying to override his commands. I know who he is. I know how he functions. And I know a man like him is used to being obeyed. I’ve witnessed the men of the Clan now for years, and I know they were raised to be just like this. It’s old-fashioned, but there’s no use fighting it, either. And I’m honestly not sure I would if I could.
“You alright, lass?” he asks quietly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
“Good girl.”
“That was excruciating.”
“Worse than a whipping?” he asks sternly.
I shiver. “I wouldn’t know.”
A corner of his lips quirks up, and he rubs my shoulder gently. “Then you’d better be sure to behave yourself. You know I won’t hesitate to turn you across my knee, or take my belt to that backside of yours if I have to.”
I give him a pouty look. “You’ve been wanting to do that for years.”
He groans. “You have no idea.”
He sighs and drags his hand down my back, then through my hair again. “Christ, I needed that more than I thought I did,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Am I well-marked now?” I ask, pushing myself up to give him a quizzical look.
“Aye, love,” he says with a grin. He brushes my hair off my shoulders and kisses the hickey he left there, then runs his fingertip over a bite mark. “They’ll see these marks.” He runs his hand over to where he came on me. Though he’s washed me off, it’s almost as if I can still feel where he branded me. “And I’ll know these marks are here.”
I nod. “Aye.” I whisper.
We lay like that on the loveseat for a very long time, until the sun dips low on the horizon. My phone buzzes on a nearby table, but I don’t move. I think I might even fall asleep for a bit. I’m so safe like this, so content, when he rouses me with a smile. “Let’s get ready to go.”
“I don’t have clean clothes, though. Can I go back to the dorm?” I ask him.
“No dorm, love, no,” he says. “But I’ve had clothes brought here.”
I really hope it wasn’t my brother that brought them, but I don’t say anything to him.
He wants me to trust him. So, I’ll do just that.
I get up and walk across the room to my phone while he goes to the door to fetch something. I sit on the edge of the bed to read my texts. Four messages from Aisling, two from Sheena, one from Megan. I sigh and read quickly through them.
Sheena just wants to see if I’m okay, Aisling wants to know if I have plans tonight and ARE YOU OKAY?? IS HE BEING GOOD TO YOU? HE BETTER BE TREATING YOU WELL OR HE WILL ANSWER TO ME.
Megan has sent me loads of questions.
Oh my God I heard your guard was killed.
And that Lachlan took the PRIVATE JET to come find you. He might’ve been all aloof and WHATEVER before, but girl, that man has just STAKED HIS CLAIM.
I giggle to myself. If she had any idea.
“What’s so funny over there?” Lachlan asks with mock sternness. He stands in the doorway, the hotel door fastened and bolted behind him, and I let myself stare at him. He’s got a towel around his neck and another around his waist. His scruffy beard and endless hazel eyes, the ink that skates down his neck, over his shoulders, down his arms. Everything about him exudes confidence and power.
“Oh, nothing,” I tease. “Nothing at all.”
“Tisn’t nothing, and you know it,” he says. “What are you all smug about?”
I burst out laughing as he reaches the bed.
“Megan said you’ve staked your claim.”
“Bloody well
have,” he says soberly.
“I was just… well, I was just thinking that she doesn’t even know the half of it, does she?”
He reaches me, pushes me down onto the bed, and cups my jaw. “No,” he says. “And unless you want that whipping I mentioned, you won’t tell her, either.”
“Well that’s not fair,” I say with a pout. “Really?”
“Really.”
I swallow hard and open my mouth to protest, then close it again. What’s the fun of finally getting to be with the man of your dreams if you can’t dish about it with your friends?
“Stop that pouting,” he says, his finger on my lips. “And behave yourself. We have to get ready.”
“You are sometimes negative fun,” I say when he releases me, and I stick my tongue out to his broad back.
He looks over his shoulder at me and quirks a brow that makes my heart flutter in my chest.
“Do you want to test me, Fiona?”
I shake my head. My body still thrums with the heat of my climax, the memory of how he orchestrated that still fresh in my mind. “Nope.”
He rolls up the towel around his neck into a rope, turns, then snaps it across my arse. “Then go get ready.”
“Ow! Can I… should I shower?” I ask him.
He holds my gaze, then shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
It feels naughty—wicked, even, what we did today. But at the same time, I’m not surprised. This is Lachlan. The brooding, powerful force of nature that’s all mine.
All mine.
I look at the clothes in the bag he hands me and feel my brows rise.
“Where did you get these?” I ask him.
“Went on a bit of a shopping spree between your climax and mine,” he says, quirking a brow at me. I flush all the way to my ears.
“No, seriously.”
“Hired someone. Tiernan has connections here, and he put me in touch.”
“Okay, I’m super glad you said it was a connection of his, because honest to God…” I shake my head. “I can’t imagine my brother picking out these.”
I hold up a lacy pair of knickers for him to see and grimace.
“Believe me,” he says, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want your brother having anything to do with these clothes either.”
I choose a fitted red sheath dress, but he shakes his head and vetoes it. “Too bold,” he says. “It will call attention to you, and that’s the last thing I want to do.” He sighs and takes out a black gown. “Though I have to admit, there’s no fucking way I can really hide a lass like you.”
“Why?” I ask curiously.
He looks at me in surprise. “You’re way too beautiful. Every eye in there will be on you tonight, no matter if I dressed you in a burka or a paper sack.”
I bite my lip. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“It’s the truth,” he says without reserve. I smile to myself. He hands me a gown and gives me a playful smack to the arse. “Now get dressed.”
I pull on the gown and watch as it slinks down over my body. I’ve wondered about the workings of the Clan, and tonight, I’ll get to see firsthand. He’s taking me with him to keep me safe, though.
What will that mean?
Will we get any closer to finding out who came after us? Who harmed my guard?
I look at myself in the mirror and nod with approval.
“Christ,” he curses from the bathroom door.
I turn to look at him, surprised at the sudden harsh tone of his voice.
“What?”
He’s wearing trousers and a t-shirt, his muscles stretched tight against his chest, his tattoos visible and stark against the white fabric. Even though I can’t help but let my eyes rove over his body, and I definitely can’t stop the sudden heat that floods me, when I catch his eyes, I stop breathing.
I thought that I knew every facet of Lachlan, from his serious, brooding side, to his sometimes boyish humor, but this—this is something I’ve not seen before. When I look into the depths of his eyes focused on me now, for perhaps the first time ever… I know why he’s as high-ranking in the Clan as he is. The flinty look of his gaze promises retribution and punishment to anyone who’ll stand in our way. He’ll stop at nothing—literally nothing, I understand now— when he sets his eyes on a purpose. And right now, that focus is me.
Though I’m not truly afraid, my heartbeat accelerates, and I take an involuntary step backward. My back slams against the porcelain sink.
“Lachlan,” I whisper, so much hidden in one word. Wonder and hope, curiosity and fear.
Can I trust you?
Will you hurt me?
Will you stop anyone who tries to?
Girls like me who grow up without the benefit and protection of parents who were supposed to protect her, learn to fight for themselves. Scrap their way out of the heap, as it were. But then… sometimes, every once in a while… something happens that makes everything better. The ordinary morphs into extraordinary.
I’m not a needy girl and never have been, so the sudden, uncontrollable need to have him, to be owned by him, to be well and truly loved by him, consumes me like an insatiable hunger.
He reaches me and pins me against the sink. His fingers rake through my hair, and instant pain erupts on my scalp, but for some reason it’s only a taste of what I need. I lean into him, craving more of his velvet-laden brutality.
Both of his hands are woven in my hair, when his forehead meets mine. His body’s taut with anger and conviction, both feet planted on either side of me so firmly I’m trapped within his heat and stare.
“It isn’t enough,” he whispers.
“What?” I whisper back.
“The marks I’ve given you. It isn’t enough. I need to mark you further.”
I shiver involuntarily. I fear what marking me further might mean.
“How?” I whisper. My neck throbs from where he marked me, my skin still feels the heat of his seed he marked me with.
“What I’d do to you if we were back home…” I have no idea of what he’s actually referring to, but honest to God I want to know.
“I need a chain,” he whispers in my ear, the vibration of his voice on my skin sending a thrill of pleasure and fear down my spine. In my mind’s eye, I immediately conjure up thick metal chains like a prisoner might wear, and that doesn’t seem to quite jive. I shiver.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have at my disposal what I need, lass,” he says. “But I’ll make do.”
I can see when he gets an idea, the way a glimmer of creativity shimmers in his eyes. I swallow hard when he nods and holds up a finger for me to stay where I am. I couldn’t move if I tried. My eyes follow him as he leaves, and he returns a moment later with his wallet, a chain dangling from it. Normally he’d hook the end of the chain on his trousers, but clearly he has different ideas.
“Give me your locket,” he says. Wordlessly, I obey and hand it to him. He takes it, reaches for my wrist, and wraps the chain around it. Then he clicks the hook from his wallet chain on my newly-fashioned bracelet and slides the other end into his pocket, clipping it back on the wallet.
He kisses my cheek, my temple, down my nose to my mouth, and when he finally pulls away from me, I’m panting with need for him all over again.
“Lachlan,” I say on a whisper. “I want… I need…” How does someone graciously say Take my goddamn V-card?
He shakes his head. “All you need right now is to do exactly what I tell you.” The note of steel in his voice sends a shiver straight down my spine. “I’ve always demanded your obedience, Fiona.” He sighs. “But it’s never been more crucial than it is tonight. Do you understand me?”
I nod. “I think so.”
He shakes his head, dissatisfied with my answer. “You think so?” he repeats, tossing the words out as if they’re distasteful to him. “Tonight, we walk among men who see women as commodities. These women are stolen and auctioned like catt
le.” My stomach clenches at the thought.
“What?” I whisper.
“They have no identity. No family. Life as you know it doesn’t exist for them. These men make millions of dollars a year doing their work.”
“Why are you—why are we—why would Keenan…”
“Because we’re in a desperate situation,” he explains with a sigh. “These men are affiliated with the Boston Irish, and we need those connections tonight. We need someone who can help us against the enemies we face.”
I mull this over, unsure of what this really means. How? Why?
“How do you know these aren’t the very men who are after us?”
He scrubs a hand across his brow. “We don’t. All I have is Keenan’s word for it, and since I trust Keenan with my life, it’s all we’ve got.”
I think this over, then nod. “Alright, then. I trust you, you know that, Lachlan. Let’s do what we have to and find out what we need to.”
A part of me wants to get on the next plane back to Ballyhock.
But only if he’s with me.
The idea of classes and frat parties, and all the frivolity of a year at college in Boston seems so out of the ordinary now. Child’s play from what we face.
“What’s on your mind, Fiona?”
He’s buttoning his cuffs, and I take a minute to admire how hot he is all dressed up like this. “Well don’t you shine up nice,” I mutter. A corner of his lips quirks up in that signature boyish way of his.
“Could say that about you, too,” he says. “Now tell me, what’s on your mind? I can tell you’re upset about something.”
I absentmindedly finger the locket at my wrist, and his eyes go to my fingers wrapped around the heavy gold.
“It feels so weird… thinking about things like my dorm room and classes,” I tell him. “When there are women being abused and stolen and actual lives on the line here. I feel like I have a foot in both worlds or something, I guess. I mean, I knew you guys did things that weren’t exactly legal, but…” my voice trails off, as it does when I’m weirdly struck by emotion.
I love Nolan. I love Cormac and Keenan and Carson and all the men of the Clan like they’re my brothers. They’ve been so good to me, to my family, to Sheena and Tiernan.