Page 11 of Bittersweet Revenge (Sins of the Father #1)

Tiernan

“W hat are we doing?” Rory asks.

I can hardly hear him past the blood rushing through my ears and the pounding of my heart. I fucking hate men who put their hands on women, who will hurt them in any way, but when you’re talking about my fucking sister? Oh yes. This motherfucker is going to die.

“Nothing tonight. How is it gonna look if he disappears right after Dean went The Hulk on him?” Fucking idiot. He needs to learn to have some damn patience to deal with shit the right way.

He saved Aislin. He watched her. If he hadn’t been there…

“Watch him tonight. Follow him. What’s his name?” I ask Aislin.

“Mike. I don’t know his last name.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Don’t judge me. How many people do you fuck without knowing even their first name?” she argues.

“He could have hurt you.”

“But he didn’t. Dean was there.”

Yeah. Dean. He was watching her better than I could. I was too distracted by him. From the moment we slipped into the Bar and I saw him talking to the pretty twink, all I’d done was watch him instead of her.

Did he think fucking that kid would make him forget about me? Because it wouldn’t. I won’t let him do that.

“Not helping, Ash. We should go. We can’t stand here all night. You’re coming home with me.”

Aislin nods and hugs herself. She steps closer, and I wrap my arms around her, knowing that the reality of what happened is hitting her.

“I got you.” Then to Rory, “Find out everything we need to know.”

Rory nods, and I lead Aislin to my car.

After opening the passenger door for her and waiting for her to get in, I walk around to the driver’s side. The second I’m in, she says, “I want to kill him.”

“No,” I say harshly.

“I have that right. He tried to hurt me .”

“No,” I reiterate. Doesn’t she know I don’t want that for her? She deserves better than the shit we do.

“Why is it okay for you and not me?” she says as though reading my mind.

“Because this was always my path. That doesn’t mean it has to be yours.”

I don’t have to look at her to know she rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll marry someone Dad approves of, someone in the life, and I’ll be just like Mom. I love her, but I don’t want to be just like her. I want to be my own person, and I damn sure want to hurt the man who tried to hurt me.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I drive. This is all so fucked up. “It’s not as easy as you think.” It fucks with my head afterward every time. I do it, and it’s a fact of my life, but that doesn’t mean it’s simple. It sure as shit isn’t the first time.

“Dad made you do it when you were fourteen.”

I shrug because that doesn’t matter. What he makes me do isn’t always right. I sure as hell don’t want her living by those standards. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m doing it. If you don’t let me, I’ll tell Dad what happened.”

I throw her a look. I’d much rather deal with this without him, and she knows it. “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.”

“You’re cold.”

“And you respect me for it,” she says, and I do.

We get back to my place and get high together. She has her dorm, but there’s a room here for her as well. Still, she climbs into bed with me. The room is dark. She’s under the blanket, but I’m on top of it, on my back, with her on her side.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid. If Dean wasn’t watching…”

My muscles spasm. “You’re not stupid. The guy’s a fucking pig, and he’s going to die for it.”

She doesn’t reply right away, the two of us quiet in the dark until she says, “He’s different…Dean. Like us but not.”

“I know.”

“You like Dean.”

“Fuck off.”

She laughs. “You’re intrigued by him.”

“A little,” I lie. We both know I am. A lot.

“Don’t rob this from me, T. You know I deserve to do it.”

I sigh, but that’s the only answer she needs. I always fucking cave where she’s concerned. And the thing is, she’s right. She does deserve it, and she also needs to be able to take care of herself.

“I was going to leave with him…after that drink. We’d talked about it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, rage filling me until I’m not sure I can contain it.

“Go to sleep,” I order, and then I lie there until she does.

When I’m sure she’s passed out, I climb out of bed, slip my shoes on, and leave.

I already know where Dean’s dorm is, and I managed to get a keycard to get into the building.

No, I don’t like him. Aislin was wrong about that, but I’m obviously obsessed with him.

I don’t cross a lot of people, but none of the ones I do question me.

I swear my pulse kicks up just from standing outside his door.

I don’t know what it means or why I feel it.

Maybe just because of everything that went down tonight, and I know that without him, there’s a possibility Mike could have gotten my drugged sister out of the bar without me noticing.

What a fucking failure I am. I won’t ever make that mistake again.

I knock on the door.

A moment later Dean opens it, shirtless, my marks completely faded from his skin now. I want them back, need them back, need something to take my mind off what happened tonight.

“Are you alone?” I ask.

“Roommate.”

I push around him and inside. Even though it’s late, the guy’s studying at his desk, books open in front of him.

“Get out,” I tell him.

“Jesus, Tiernan,” Dean grumbles.

I ignore him. “Get the fuck out,” I tell his roommate again.

“You don’t have to go,” Dean says.

“Yes, you do.”

“Are you safe with him?” the kid asks, which is brave and cool of him, though what he thinks he could do about it if Dean says no is beyond me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not afraid of him.” He turns to me like he’s proud of that, but I just kiss at the air.

The roommate curses but knows what’s good for him. He throws his books in a bag, slips on shoes, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

“You’re such an asshole.” Dean walks over to his bed and sits down. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“You look it.” My eyes scan his side of the room. There’s nothing personal of his out, nothing that shows who Dean is or what he likes. No photos or anything hanging on his wall.

There’s a book on his bed, though, and I pick it up. The Count of Monte Cristo .

“Those are called books. They have words in them, and you read them.”

Ignoring him, I turn it over, run my finger over the back and spine. I can smell the paper. Old books even smell old, which doesn’t make any sense, considering they’re still currently in print.

“Jesus, stop molesting it.” He tries to pull it out of my hands, but I don’t let him.

“You’re reading this?”

“No, I’m eating it.”

I shouldn’t be as obsessed with this, with him, but that’s how it’s been from the start.

I don’t know anyone in my world who reads classics like I do.

Cil and Rory give me shit for it. Aislin says it’s cute.

My father thinks it’s a waste of time. I think it makes Mom happy, because she likes to buy me books.

I don’t know anyone who loves classics as much as I do, though.

“Fine. Ignore me. Read the fucking book. Do whatever you want. I’m going to bed. In case you didn’t notice, it’s been a long night.” He sits on the edge of the bed.

The book makes a soft clunk when I put it on the desk, and then I reach for his hand, running my fingers over his bruised knuckles. Bruises he got from saving someone who’s mine.

Dean tries to pull his hand away, but I don’t let him.

“I’ve never read it,” I say.

“Am I supposed to be surprised?”

He thinks I’m an asshole, but my little fighter is too. “Is it any good?”

“It’s my favorite. Let go of my hand before I make you.”

My dick twitches. “Huh.”

“What?”

“It gets me hard when you talk to me like that.” I tug his hand and press it against my bulge, grip looser than it had been, so if he wanted to pull away, he could.

His palm presses against my growing erection. I’m not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it. Dean still doesn’t want to want me, but he does.

I let go of his hand, toe out of my shoes, then straddle his lap.

You saved my sister.

“What the fuck are you doing, Tiernan?”

“That’s up to you…” I pinch both of his nipples and damn near come in my pants at his sharp inhale. “If you tell me you want me, I’m probably going to make you come. And I’ve decided I want to give you my mouth…it’s a really fuckin’ good mouth.” He deserves it after what he did tonight.

I pinch his nipples again, which pebble so prettily for me. They’re so pink against his pale skin. A sound of pleasure almost spills past my lips when his hands slide up and grab my waist, but I won’t give him my sounds until he tells me what I want to hear.

“Ticktock, fighter. I don’t have all night.”

“God, I fucking hate you.” His words are choppy, breathing quick.

How many times do I have to tell him?

“Everyone does. I’m used to it.” His skin is warm against my palm as my right hand slides down the center of his chest, over his stomach, then against the bulge in his shorts. “Let me hear it.”

His eyes close, the corded muscles in his throat tightening further. It doesn’t take a genius to see he’s fighting not to say the words he wants to say.

I palm his hard dick. His mouth falls open, and I’m dying for him to speak, dying to hear him say those three words that feel like such a fucking win when I pull them out of him.

“I fucking want you, you asshole.”

I smile. Six words work just as well as three.