Page 65 of Broken Blood Ties

“Cause it sure as hell sounds like ye’re leaving.” The tone of his voice deepens, and the muscle in Kieran’s neck seems to pulse. The sky darkens too quickly, and the brilliant golden light turns into a deep purplish-black to match the simmer in his expression.

“I can’t stay.” It’s a whisper. An admission. I hate that a sob seems to writhe beneath my skin, wanting out. I grip the sides of the blanket I have held to my chest.

The seething in Kieran’s voice chokes into a strangled sound as he says, “What can I do? What can I do to help ye stay?”

The yacht dips over another forceful swell, and my already wobbly legs seem to buckle under the gentle toss. I fall into him. Immediately, his hands steady me, grasping my shoulders. My hands fumble to keep hold of the blanket that falls away from me.

With my legs securely underneath me again, I assume he’s going to step away. He doesn’t.

Is he closer?

I can’t seem to catch my breath as he continues to hold my shoulders, and I imagine the rough pads of his fingertips savoring my skin, despite the barrier of my sweater.

When my eyes finally meet his, they’re so close. The forest green hue is hypnotic—crippling even. Flecks of gold and brown are scattered within his irises that strike a match low in my belly. But as he peers at me, something swirls akin to agony.

I bite my lip, and that draws his attention to my mouth.

“Summer …” he whispers, pulling a hand up between us to move the piece of hair covering my shoulder.

His touch lingers, a single finger sketching featherlight lines where my neck meets my shoulder, and goose bumps follow in his wake. My mouth parts, and a light gasp leaves my lips as I marvel at how his minor touch ignites my body.

I lean forward, succumbing to the craving to be closer to him. He’s warm, and as he caresses my skin, I shudder. I want to kiss him. For him to kiss me.

The memory of my “nightmare” screams to the forefront of my mind, and just as I’m about to close the distance, lips tentatively brush against mine. It’s so light, and not enough.

Just when I think he might press further, a ding startles me, and I jump back.

I’m breathless, the only air coming in dispersed chunks, which I heave in greedily. While Kieran pulls back, he stares wide-eyed as he reaches into his pocket to yank out his phone. He briefly scans the message and then looks at me, jaw tightening. “Who broke into yer apartment?”

Chapter21

Kieran

“Ilike Miss Summer with us,” Aoife mumbles half asleep as I slip her into bed. I’d excused myself from the table to put Aoife to bed twenty minutes ago. It’s something I do each time we come to the yacht, and not something I get to do often at home. Allie handles bedtime, unless she is off for a night.

I usually mess it up, as Aoife reminds me. I don’t sing any songs, and apparently, I don’t do the voices very well when it comes to the limited selection of books here. But getting to do this simple parenting task reminds me of when she was a wee little one. Not but a tiny baby who could fit in the palm of my hand.

“Aye,” I finally answer her. “I do, too.”

“Can she come again?”

I give her a smile as she yawns while her eyelids fall closed. “She’s welcome anytime.”

Even though I suspect Summer is on the run, and now trying to get out of town. The bag. The anxious look in her eyes. She’s attempting to leave, and I’m not sure she’s planning on returning. Which means Aoife is going to lose her teacher.

It’s that fact that has me pushing up to leave the bottom bunk where Aoife is nestled and march back up the stairs.

I’ve avoided this most of the night, and frankly I’m surprised. Maybe I feel like it’s an invasion of Summer’s privacy and I really want to do things right with her. She’s whittled her way into my decisions at this point.

But I remind myself who I am. This city is mine. Despite Riku’s recent diabolical plan to twist my balls, I will not have people in my town hunting down Summer Smith.

Sending a quick text to one of my guys on the ground, I pad back toward the front of the yacht.

The crew is clearing the table, but beyond that, so close to the bow, is Summer as she faces the open ocean and drinks in the setting sun.

I watch her. Unapologetically.

Her short but thick hair whips in the rampant breeze. Arms draped around herself, almost in a hug, she leans ever so slightly into the misting wind currents. Images of her, there, mine for the taking, flicker through my thoughts. Shite. No. She’s too young for me.