Callous King (The O'Dea Crime Family Book 1) by Elizabeth Knox & Emily Sharp

Author:Elizabeth Knox & Emily Sharp [Knox, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knox Publishing
Published: 2021-07-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Sorcha

Clutching my sheet tightly around me, I stand in front of Cian’s bedroom door with apprehension stiffening my joints. The night is dark and deep, and I glance both ways down the hallway. Not a soul stirs in the gloom, and I lift a trembling hand as sinister shadows play at the edges of my vision.

What am I doing? He probably doesn’t mean it after so long. I pause, unease threading my veins as my heart pounds viciously against my ribs. My knuckles hang still only an inch or two from the door, and I withdraw in uncertainty. Cian isn’t . . . but if I’m quiet, maybe . . .

Griping the doorknob with a clammy palm, I bite my lips to stop them trembling as tingles raze my spine. Fear attacks the backs of my eyes as I pop open his door silently, and I step into his room on weak legs. Through the deep darkness adrenaline spikes my heart. The blood drumming in my ears intensifies, and I hold my breath as fire engulfs my lungs.

The air ripples suddenly, and I freeze as two, powerful arms trap me against the door. Colorful spots blot my vision, and goosebumps blanket my entire body. Trepidation strafes my back and along my ribs, and Cian’s face emerges from the gloom. I feel him more than see him, his clean-shaven chin brushing my cheek with feather softness. Aggravation rolls off him in powerful waves that suck the air from my blood, and panic curls deep in my gut.

“Why are you here?” He asks with a hoarse whisper, and I cringe into the door as his harsh, short pants roll down my neck. Stiffening against me, he takes a deep breath and holds it. “Sorcha? What are you doing here?”

“You told me to,” I whisper shakily, and relief eases the tension between my shoulders when Cian pulls away in surprise. Once again shrouding in darkness, his hand finds mine, and he walks me deeper into his bedroom. I can’t see anything, even the outlines of furniture, but his hand in mine is warm and secure. “Who did you think it was?”

“Not you,” He mutters, and I wince when he turns on a lamp, flooding the room with low, yellow light. Shadows play along his muscular body as Cian reaches to run his hand through his dark, chestnut hair. “I wasn’t gonna wait up for you. Did you come here to tell me you regret what happened in my office? You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t,” I pause, biting my bottom lip uncertainly, and Cian climbs onto his bed to pat the spot next to him. Hugging my sheet tighter, I hold my breath in my shriveling lungs as I follow. Now, Cian is disarming, almost, with his disheveled mop and clouded, hazed expression. My heart hammers against my ribs as I lay down next to him, and I pull my sheet up over my chest. “The truth is . . . I had a nightmare.

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