Page 10

TEN

BANE

I’m standing in the kitchen when I hear the faint creak of the bathroom door opening. The sound pulls me immediately from my thoughts, my hand stilling on the glass of water I’d poured but haven’t touched.

I brace myself as I turn.

I shouldn’t look. Even seeing her like this—fresh from the bath in my robe, all soft and vulnerable—will test every restraint I’ve spent years cultivating.

And then she steps into view.

I barely manage not to drop my glass.

She’s not wearing the robe, and she managed to take off the wet dress. Only one of my gray towels is wrapped around her head. The rest of her damp skin is flushed and absolutely bared.

She’s standing naked just across the room from me.

Brown nipples peak in the cool air, not yet warm even though I’ve cranked the heat up.

Fuck her. Take what she’s offering, drag her down to the floor, and fuck her.

I jerk my eyes back up to her face when I realize where I’ve let my gaze drift.

For all her brazenness, there’s an unguarded quality to her expression that tugs at something deep in my chest.

“Moira,” I say, my voice low and steady, though it costs me dearly to keep it that way. “You should rest. I’ll show you a room where you can stay the night if you like.”

She smiles, a little crooked, a little coy. “And you’ll join me?”

I take a step forward, but she beats me to it, padding softly into the room on bare feet. I force my eyes to stay on her face, swallowing hard.

But even then, I can’t escape the way her gaze meets mine—intent and deliberate, a challenge I’m not sure I can meet without faltering.

“I feel much better now,” she says, stopping just a few feet away. Her green eyes hold mine as she adds, “Thanks to you.”

She knows what she’s offering. And you’ve been dreaming of bedding her for weeks now.

“It was the bath.” My tone is sharper than I intended. I clear my throat and take another step back, trying to widen the space between us. “Not me.”

Her smile softens, but she doesn’t step back. If anything, she edges closer, her bare toes brushing the cool tiles as she tilts her head slightly, the towel precariously balanced atop her damp hair.

“You’re very kind, Father,” she says, the word both respectful and mocking, like she’s testing it. Testing me. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”

“Don’t call me that,” I bark. “Not now that you know. I’m Bane.”

She quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Bane, then.”

She’s playing with me. Because she can see the part of me that craves indulgence, pleasure, and dominance? Or just because she’s a woman who knows how to use her body to get what she wants?

Or perhaps she simply thinks this is what I expect of her after bringing her here?

It’s the last possibility that shuts down the beast inside me.

If we were back in the club, I would know exactly how to bring her to heel. Or to weeping, howling pleasure .

But we’re not at the club. This is Father Blackwood’s territory, no matter what she calls me. While I don’t know how to find solid ground between the man that I was and the one I usually strive to be, some motherfucker has already hurt her once tonight. I won’t be the second.

“Moira,” I begin, my voice rough. “You should?—”

“Should what?” she interrupts, her voice soft but insistent. She takes another step closer until she’s nearly within arm’s reach. “Should go to bed? I’d be warmer if we went to bed together, you know. Don’t you want me to be warm?”

Her gaze lowers briefly, taking in the way my fists are clenched at my sides, before rising to meet mine again. “Or do you want me to leave you alone to your cold prayers, Father? Is that what you want?”

I exhale sharply, wanting to paddle her for her insolence. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” she whispers, her voice barely audible but devastating nonetheless.

The air between us is too thick, too charged. I take a deliberate step back, and the edge of the counter presses into my spine as I force myself to put distance between us.

“You’re tired.” I force my voice steady. “You’ve had a long night. You need sleep.”

Her head tilts slightly, her damp hair catching the light as she studies me with those piercing green eyes. “What if I don’t want to sleep?” she asks, her tone feather-light but laced with meaning.

Fuck her. She’s begging for it, you self-righteous asshole. You can make it good for her before you choke her on your cock.

I close my eyes briefly, my hands gripping the counter behind me as though it’s the only thing keeping me upright. When I open them, she’s still there, her expression unreadable but undeniably... vulnerable.

“Moira,” I say again, her name a prayer, a plea. “This isn’t...” I trail off, the words refusing to come.

She takes another step forward, so close now I can feel the faint warmth radiating from her breasts—not touching the cloth of my shirt, but so, so close. She’s still flushed from the bath, not that I dare let myself look down.

“This isn’t what?” she asks softly.

My breath catches as she reaches up, her hand brushing against my arm, tentative but deliberate. The touch is electric, setting every nerve in my body alight.

“Moira,” I growl, the sound barely human. I step away from the counter, towering over her now, though it does nothing to lessen her defiance—or her proximity. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” she whispers, her hand still hovering near my arm but not touching. “I’m not some wounded thing. And I’m not afraid of you.”

The words hit me harder than they should. She doesn’t know about all the things I’m envisioning in my head.

“You should be,” I rasp.

Her brows furrow slightly, but she doesn’t move away. “I don’t think you’d ever hurt me.” She sounds so sure.

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? The thing that keeps me rooted here, torn between the need to protect her and the gnawing temptation to give in, to take what she’s offering even if it damns me completely.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” I say, my voice deep and gruff.

Her gaze doesn’t waver. “I know enough.”

I look again at the bruise darkening her eye, and it’s enough to reaffirm my resolve even as my teeth clench. “Tell me who did that to you.”

Her eyes harden. “A man who’s nothing like you. A man I’ll never see again.”

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us, the air humming with tension and something far more dangerous. But then she shifts, just slightly, and the movement is enough to shatter the fragile balance I’m clinging to.

I reach for her, my hands gripping her shoulders, and I can’t help but tighten my fingers the same way I would, as if I was about to pull her into a passionate embrace.

Her eyes widen, and for the first time, I see the flicker of uncertainty in her gaze.

“You need to rest,” I say, my voice low but unyielding. “This isn’t... This can’t happen. Not tonight.”

Her lips part, but no words come. She looks up at me, her expression unreadable, and for a moment, I think she might argue.

But then she nods, the movement small but enough to ease some of the tension coiled in my chest.

I release her shoulders and step back, the loss of her warmth almost unbearable. “Come on,” I say, finally able to make the words come out gentle and soft. “Let’s get you to bed.”