Page 7

BLAISE

I spread the blanket under the old oak tree, the same tree I used to climb as a kid and later make out with girls under as a teen.

The memories of the house and yard have hit hard, rising up at unexpected times.

This was my home and the Keans invaded it.

They burned down the main house, but this is still my place. I can’t wait to run them out.

Until then, I play my part, which right now is setting up a romantic lunch for Jenna. This is the first time I’ve been able to make time to continue my plan to find out why she betrayed us and then make her pay for it.

Jenna appears around the bend in the garden path, her curly hair escaping its tie, cheeks flushed from the walk.

She carries herself with a grace that seems effortless, like she belongs among the flowers she tends.

Her smile lights up her whole face when she spots me.

I push down the guilt that arises from her genuine pleasure at seeing me.

"This is beautiful," she says, gesturing at the spread.

I can't stop staring at her lips, remembering how soft they feel against mine. For a week now, that kiss on the porch has haunted me. I gave her another quick kiss this morning, wanting to prove to myself that the wild sensations from the first kiss were a fluke. Turns out, they weren’t.

Her kisses are divine. But she's the enemy. She helped destroy everything I loved.

"I found it during my patrols," I lie, patting the space beside me. "Thought you might appreciate somewhere quiet."

She settles next to me, close enough that her arm brushes mine. The contact sends an unwanted spark through my body. She smells like earth and flowers and something uniquely her. I hate how much I notice these things about her.

"It's perfect," she whispers, and for a moment I forget why I'm here, lost in those green eyes that seem to hold no guile, no deception.

But I can't forget. Won't forget. No matter how innocent she seems now, she's the reason my parents are dead.

"Try the strawberries." I hold one out to her.

Jenna takes it delicately between her fingers, and my pulse jumps when her lips brush against the fruit. Nothing about her screams murderer's accomplice. No shifty eyes, no nervous tics. Just pure, unguarded pleasure as she savors the berry.

"These are amazing." She reaches for another. "I haven't had strawberries since last summer."

I spread some cheese on a cracker, watching her movements. "You don't get out much?"

"Mom needs me here." She drops her gaze. "And the gardens keep me busy."

The gardens. Where she learned all the secret ways into our house. Where she probably watched my family's routines, reporting back to Ronan.

"Here, try this." I offer her the fancy brie I picked up, anything to keep my hands busy, to stop them from shaking with rage. "It pairs well with the fruit."

She takes it with a shy smile that confuses me. How can someone so deadly look so damn innocent?

“You’re quite the connoisseur.”

“Did you think my being a guard means I don’t have any sophistication?”

She studies me like she’s worried she offended me. “Not at all.”

I laugh to ease her worry. I need her relaxed if she’s going to talk to me. “It’s okay. I know I can be a brute.” I hand her another cracker with cheese.

"You're spoiling me." Her shoulder bumps mine. The casual touch sends electricity through my veins, part attraction, part revulsion for my attraction.

"You deserve to be spoiled."

She blushes. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

Not even Ronan, I bet. The thought brings a savage satisfaction that wars with the unexpected tenderness trying to take root in my chest.

"So, it's just you and your mom here?" I keep my tone casual while reaching for more cheese, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah, since my dad died when I was little. Mom has worked here forever, though, first for the Ifrinns, then the Keans." She wipes cracker crumbs from her lips with her fingers. "She taught me everything I know about gardening."

The mention of my family name on her lips makes my teeth grind. I force myself to relax. "Must've been hard growing up without a father."

"Mom made up for it. She's amazing." Her face lights up, then dims. "Well, she was. Before she got sick."

I lean back on my elbows, studying her profile. "What happened?"

"She has heart problems." She swallows hard. "Some days are better than others. The Keans have been so kind, letting us stay in the cottage, keeping me employed so I can care for her."

The Keans, kind? They're murderers who stole everything from us. I wonder if caring for her mother and letting them live in the cottage are payment for showing Ronan how to breach our defenses?

“Lately… well…” She shrugs and looks away for a moment.

"That must be tough, watching her decline." The sympathy in my voice isn't entirely fake, and that unsettles me more than anything.

"It is." She wraps her arms around her knees. "The doctors say she needs specialized care. But I can't afford it on my salary, and I won't put her in some state facility where she'll be alone."

The raw devotion in her words mirrors my own feelings for my brothers. We'd do anything for each other, sacrifice everything to keep our family safe.

"So you stay.” I fight the feeling of sympathy toward her. I don't want to understand her.

"Where else would I go? Mom needs stability, familiar surroundings. This garden is all she has left. And the Keans let us stay in the cottage, and they give me steady work.”

I hold back the urge to tell her the truth about her beloved Keans. The Keans aren't saviors. They're thieves who stole my family's legacy. Except she knows that, right?

But watching Jenna with her shy naivete, her love toward her mother, I can't reconcile the innocent woman before me with someone who'd help murder an entire family.

"You're a good daughter," I manage. Because it's true. I wonder if I’d be willing to destroy another family to save my own. I know I’d do anything to protect them. Had Ronan offered her a deal, help us kill the Ifrinns and we’ll save your mother?

“We’ve been lucky. The Keans stepped in right after the fire. They didn't have to, but Mr. Kean insisted on keeping all the staff. Said it was important to preserve what was left of the estate."

My vision blurs red. Preserve? They’re the ones who fucking destroyed it.

"They're good people," Jenna says with such conviction it physically hurts. "Everyone says the Ifrinns were good too, but after they died…" She shakes her head. "The Keans helped us all heal, gave us purpose again."

A laugh threatens to escape, harsh and bitter. Good people don't burn families alive in their beds. They don't steal legacies and twist histories.

But looking at Jenna's face, the pure belief shining in her eyes, I realize she actually buys their lies. The Keans have her completely fooled with their careful manipulations and false kindness.

"You really believe in them, don't you?"

"Of course." She smiles, and it's like a knife to my gut. "They saved us all."

She has to pay for what she did. For helping destroy my family. For still worshipping the ground Ronan walks on. For making me feel things I have no business feeling.

But when I think about hurting her, about crushing that innocent light in her eyes, my stomach revolts. The truth is, I'm starting to crave her smiles, her sweet kisses, the way she looks at me like I matter.

And that makes me hate her even more.

Before I can stop myself, I lean toward her, drawn by some magnetic pull I don't want to analyze. My hand slides behind her neck, tangling in those soft curls. This will show her, show them all, how easily she can be manipulated.

But when my lips touch hers, everything shifts. She melts against me with a small gasp that shoots straight through my body. Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me closer. The taste of strawberries lingers on her tongue.

I meant to dominate, to prove my control, but her eager response sets my blood on fire. My other hand finds her waist, tugs her against me, and she arches into me.

The heat between us builds faster than I anticipated. Need courses in my blood. My hands slide down her sides, testing, exploring. She shivers under my touch but doesn't pull away. Instead, she presses closer, her fingers curling into my shirt. It ignites the fire inside me even hotter.

This isn’t supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be the one in control, the one playing her. Instead, I'm the one fighting not to lose myself in her.

She tilts her head back as my lips find her neck. The scent of flowers clings to her skin, intoxicating. I trail kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. Her small gasp when I find a sensitive spot drives me wild.

Fuck. I need to have her. I’m powerless to stop.

"Tell me to stop." The words come out rough, desperate. I need her to push me away.

But Jenna's hands slide up my chest, tentative yet eager. "I don't want you to stop."

I capture her mouth again, harder this time. She matches my intensity, opening for me with a soft moan that shoots straight through to my already rock-hard cock. My fingers tangle in her hair, freeing more curls from their tie.

She's responsive to every touch, every kiss. When my hand slips under her shirt to caress bare skin, she arches into me with innocent abandon. There's no pretense in her reactions, no calculation, just pure, unfiltered desire.

It's addictive, this power to make her tremble. But more dangerous is how much I'm affected by her honest responses, her complete trust in me. I should feel triumphant about seducing her, about taking what Ronan could have had.

Instead, I'm the one being undone by each breathy sigh, each touch of her hands exploring my chest. I’m quickly sinking and I can’t stop from drowning.