Page 13 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

I can’t give up, though. Maybe if I try one more?—

Voices invade my ears.

I gasp as the door swings open and three men walk in. When they spot me hanging from the skylight like an oversized streamer, the world tilts again.

The man in front is the most severe of the three. A nasty scar cuts a diagonal across his scowling face. After one glimpse at me, he nails the guy on his left with a glare. “ This is what you brought home from the auction? A fucking spider monkey?”

The insult glances off me, because my attention rivets to the guy he’s addressing.

It’s him .

The kisser. My kidnapper.

Rory.

He’s here, in this room. Standing right in front of me.

Eyes trained on my startled, incredulous face.

“ Get down from there .” He barks the command like I’m a dog napping on his priceless duvet.

Sucking down short, strained breaths, I freeze, transformed to stone by shame and dread.

Seeing him again is jarring.

I couldn’t square how he might be connected to Leo, and now I realize it’s worse than that.

He works for my family’s arch nemesis.

Strike that. He doesn’t just work for my family’s arch nemesis. He is one.

Rory’s an Irish King.

That means I kissed a King.

In the light of day, the truth is all too awful.

“Darren, get her down from there.” Scarface nods to the guy on his right, an attractive blond man with unsettling blue eyes who stalks toward me with purpose.

“No!” The octave my voice hits could shatter chandeliers.

The room devolves into chaos.

Me , shifting into fight mode and transforming into a wild, kicking, thrashing thing, desperate to survive.

Them , three men who don’t know what I’m capable of, attempting to yank me down from the ceiling. The harder they come at me, the harder I fight to hold them at bay.

Bending my knee, I pop the lower half of my right leg at the blond. My foot cracks against the side of his face.

Darren curses and pitches left into Scarface with a grunt. He grips his jaw. Blood beads in one corner of his mouth, and an edge enters his voice. “What is she, a striker?”

Pain blooms in my toes, but the adrenaline coursing through my system deadens the intensity. I might even be little high from the rush, because I zero in on the odd, patchy scars on his hands and pause to speculate what might have caused them before snapping back out of it.

“For fuck’s sake,” Scarface growls. “If three of us together can’t subdue one small woman, we may as well give up our jobs now and move to Tibet or something.”

Darren cocks his head. “Why Tibet?”

“Because we’ll need all the spiritual guidance we can get to stop me from murdering you both!”

With more strength and speed than I expect, Scarface’s iron fist clamps around my left ankle.

I yelp, my other knee jerking up reflexively and nailing Scarface in the chin. He releases his grip on my ankle and reels back a few steps. I follow up with a heel strike directly to his scary face.

Two big hands grab onto my bare midriff. The surprise skin-on-skin contact startles me enough that my hands slip.

I fall, balance gone.

Flailing.

Crack. My head smacks into Rory’s as I collapse onto him.

Darkness, stars, and splotches mar my vision.

A groan vibrates against my chest, but it’s not mine.

Ugh, my head…

We’re in a heap on the floor, I think. I don’t know because I still have my eyes squeezed shut. Ouch.

“ Fuck , woman.” Another groan. “You hiding a steel plate in your head?”

My eyes peel open. Rory’s wincing face lays directly below mine.

The gravity of my situation hits me like a tsunami crashing over the shoreline.

I’m so ashamed that this man tricked me. He stole my first kiss. I even liked it…before I found out he’s the villain of the story.

If he wanted to abduct me, why didn’t he just drug me right from the beginning? Why did he pretend to like me first, like a freaking psychopath ?

Anger heats my blood, temporarily overpowering my fear.

When Rory opens his eyes, they’re softened by pain and surprise. I hate the way his almost visceral gaze touches me on the inside.

My heart flails in my chest, tucked tight against his.

“For fuck’s sake,” someone—pretty sure it’s Scarface—grumbles.

Rory lifts us both when he sits up. With his face only inches away, mine prickles.

For a second, his velvety hazel eyes drop from mine, dipping down to my mouth.

And so quickly I nearly miss it, he smirks.

Smirks.

Mocking me.

I could melt the flesh off his bones, the rage inside me burns so hot.

“Rory!” Scarface’s sudden snap makes me flinch against Rory’s muscle-bound body. “Outside!”

Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, a wave of fear crashes over me. When he stomps in our direction, I can’t stop my reflexive flinch, or how I scuttle backward until my spine hits the wall.

All three heads swivel to stare. Rory breaks the silence that follows.

“Careful not to hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Striding over, he scoops me up before I can evade him and deposits me back on the bed. “Don’t want to break that pretty face of yours.”

My temper flares. “Touch me again, and I’ll break yours ,” I hiss.

That stupid smirk grows even wider . Before he can reply, Scarface turns the full force of his glower on me.

“You.” He glares. “You’ll stay put if you know what’s good for you.”

The warning withers the anger coursing through me, allowing the terror to return.

With more adrenaline seeping out of my system, the pain from our cage match becomes more pronounced too.

Scarface exits first, and Darren and Rory follow. When the door creaks shut behind them, my new reality sinks in.

I just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.