Page 25 of Cillian

I'm just mad in the head. But it makes it easier to rid the world of people worse than me. It's the one thing I'm good at. And I'm not going to apologize for having to access different parts of me. For you, I could just be the man. But it's never going to suppress the wolf inside. The beast, he’s always gonna be there.”

If nothing had proved that more, it was his blood-soaked clothes and disappearance into the night. I stood there silently, trying to form words but coming up short every time my lips parted. Relief washed over me when he broke the silence.

“You didn't see yourself hours ago. You think I don't know what it's like to feel that pain? That shame? I do. Mine was different, but still cuts the same. I never wanted to do things I was told to do, but I didn't have a me to protect me from the ones hurting me. It was just…so many. After a while they starting blurred into one. I just stopped seeing them as people. Most of the time, I ain’t decent. But you're my wife now, and I'd rather you see me as a bad man who does everything in his power to make his wife feel safe. Than for you to see me as a good one, who stood by and did nothing. I'm a Sullivan, and one thing we Sullivans ain’t, are fucking cowards.” I cradled my arm speechless and unable to move.

On one hand, I could hate him. The monster he hid had done awful things. Things I knew couldn't bear to know. But the man?

The man had been gentle with my delicate hair. He had been patient when I was being needy and clingy. And the man above all, made me feel secure long enough to fall asleep after a catastrophic nightmare. I never felt that safe with any man, not even the one who helped birth me. As if reading my mind Cillian spoke again, removing his blooded shirt to reveal strong hard muscles beneath a bed of intricate tattoos.

The tattoos on his knuckles were always visible, but I’d never noticed his bare arms or chest before, so I hadn’t been aware he had a collection of them. All had Celtic nods to them. A wolf howling to the moon—or at least that’s what it looked like to me, on his chest. A band of Celtic knots on his forearm, and a skull on his sculpted back. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to fall asleep in his arms.

“You can hate me all you want. But when it's all said and done, I'll be damned if another man comes around making appearances in your nightmares. I reckon you suffer enough of that with me.” At that he turned away, bringing a brush and stain solution to the sinks running water. I decided in that moment I would just leave him to it. There was no use in arguing about something he couldn’t undo.

Eleven

Cillian

Bloodstains washed away in pools of swirls down the drain. The warm water soothed my tense muscles and the soap washed away my initial guilt. Lathering my chest, I was reminded of the matching Celtic tattoo my brothers and I got when I was sixteen. It had hurt like hell, and I only got it because Paddy was set to ship out soon and I had just wanted a memory of him if he didn’t come back.

Tadhg had gotten a bear. Bellamy had opted for the stag. Paddy, a raven, and myself? I had marked myself with the wolf.

The wolf. That was what I’d told Queenie I’d always be when I stepped outside this penthouse. The way she looked at me, I wondered if I had done the right thing. She looked terrified by what I’d done, but it was the way she clung to me before that made me sure that the decision I’d made was the right one.

Small hands lightly grazed my shoulders, as I turned, shock overtaking me, as I was joined by my wife. Swallowed up by my dress shirt, it clung to her skin as the water fell.

“Hi,” she greeted me in a soft tone, her gaze settling between my chest and abdomen, too shy to look any lower.

“Hi.” I stood there waiting for her to say something, anything to reveal the purpose of her visit.

“What did I do now?”

“Nothing, I just…” She lifted up, stretching on the tips of her toes. She pulled me down to meet her height, surprising me by merging her lips with mine.

“What are you doing?” I asked, withdrawing in a way I felt was polite.

“I don't know. I guess I just thought?—”

“That what? I kill man for you and just expect you to spread your legs for me?” Guilt and confusion stained her sweet deerlike features, as I took hold of her wrist, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“If you want me, I want you to want to. Not because you think you owe me your body. I want you to, because you desire me.”

“I don't know how to do this. Cillian I've never…most things you've already experienced are all new for me.”

“Well, you can start by using your words. Start with telling me you want me,” I said, studying her dancing eyes filled with both trust and fear.

“I…I want you,” she admitted, as I tilted her chin, my lips slowly parted hers. This time we were both ready for the kiss. A tender exchange, a joining between desperate lips and stolen breaths leaving a strong sense of craving when we both pulled away.

“You know I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Let anything close to you. Fucking scare you to the point you can't sleep. I told you, I’d protect you and maybe I could have asked you what you wanted. But you're my wife. The day I let something happen to you. I can't even think about it…” She pulled me back in for a deeper kiss, this time exploring, as she opened her mouth to mine, allowing me to access to her warmth and sweetness.

The shower-soaked dress shirt left nothing to the imagination, her curvy yet petite frame as visible as her nakedness. But we’d never been here before. I had to shift between wanting to devour her and respecting her boundaries.

“Mmm… I want you, Queenie. I want you so fucking much,” I said, between the muffling of our pressed lips. She flinched at my touch when I attempted to slip my dress shirt down her shoulders, so I took that as a sign I was moving too fast.

“What's wrong?”

“It's not you. I just… can we do things without me taking my clothes off?”

“Queenie,” I cooed, soothing her cheek with the back of my hand. “You don't have to hide from me.”

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