Page 23 of Relentless Knight

Lance follows silently, locking the door firmly behind us.

“Good thing. I’m starving,” Killian says, slinging an arm around my shoulders before I’ve even had time to put down my schoolbag. “I was about to tell Cheryl to serve up dinner without you.”

Jabbing him playfully in the stomach, I slip out from under his arm and deposit my books by the stairs leading up to my wing of the house. “Like she would ever betray me like that,” I chide.

“Hey, Quinn,” Natasha says, entering gracefully from the patio. “How’d the first week back at school end up?”

I glance up at Lance, who’s not far from my right shoulder, and heat creeps up my neck. Because after our conversation earlier, I’m more conflicted about how I might answer that than ever. He made it perfectly clear that he would rather be out murdering the Italians than babysitting me. And all the while, his constant proximity has been wreaking havoc on my nervesall week. Because despite my best efforts, it’s making my crush on him grow to almost unbearable intensity.

It hurt—hearing that spending so much time with me is an annoyance to him, and it reinforces that he probably only sees me as an annoying little sister. So, while I’ve actually kind of enjoyed my week back at school, I don’t feel good admitting it.

“It was fine.” I shrug. “Nothing out of the norm.”

“That’s good.” Natasha offers me an encouraging smile.

I return it, unusually glad that I have another girl in the house—someone who’s not my brother or the man I’m painfully attracted to.

Filing into the dining room, we all take our places at the table. And as Cheryl brings in the first course of spring salad with strawberries and caramelized walnuts drizzled in cherry molasses dressing, I glance toward my brother.

“How was your week?” I ask, picking at my salad and pushing it around my plate as I make a weak attempt at foraging for information about the Italian conflict.

“Not nearly as bad as some people’s,” he says cheekily, sharing a pointed look with Lance.

Oh God. Has Lance been so frustrated about babysitting me that he even talked to Killian about it?My cheeks flame just thinking about it, and I have the distinct urge to shrink in my chair and hide beneath the table.

“You’re making Lucian pay, then?” Lance asks, his voice gruff with intensity.

Killian’s responding smirk sends a shiver down my spine, and though I know that probably means someone’s dead right about now, it also gives me an intense amount of relief to know Killian wasn’t referring to Lance.

“Tenfold,” he says. “I’m sorry you couldn’t join in the fun, but I’ll give you the gory details sometime.”

Rolling my eyes, I spear my salad leaves more forcefully than necessary. “I hate it when you talk about it all vaguely like that. As if I’m not as much a part of this as you are. If you want to tell him, why not just tell him? I think Lance has endured enough being stuck with babysitting duty this week. Please, put him out of his misery.”

“I hardly think it’s appropriate dinner talk,” Killian says. “You might enjoy all the blood and guts from nursing, but I don’t want Lance or Natasha to lose their appetites. Cheryl said she made pot roast.”

“That’s right,” Cheryl announces, stepping through the doorway from the kitchen with Henry on her heels. “So you better be hungry.”

Releasing a heavy breath, I do my best to set aside my defensive feelings. I hate being left in the dark. Feeling like an inconvenience to Lance and my brother. Being part of the family but not quite one of the Kings. And my conversation with Lance earlier only makes me feel more like I’m just in the way. Still, I know my brother has a point. If they are actually gory details, maybe I’m not the reason he doesn’t want to discuss them.

“I thought a movie night might be nice,” Natasha says as we dig into our second course. “It’s been forever since I’ve sat down and watched one with anybody. And I thought it could be a nice, normal-person tradition to start up. Care to join us?”

She flashes me a warm smile, and I can’t say no to my sister-in-law when she puts it that way.

“Sure,” I agree. “Sounds fun. What are we watching?”

“Anything butThe Godfather. OrScarface,” Killian interjects quickly.

Natasha laughs. “Don’t want to watch a documentary of your life?” she teases.

“Hardly,” he snorts.

“Well then, how aboutThe Departed?” I suggest innocently.

My brother glares in my direction.

“I was thinking something a bit more…lighthearted,” Natasha says, pressing her lips together in amusement as she glances my way. “Maybe a comedy or chick flick.”

I shrug. “Sounds fun.” Honestly, watching my brother sit down for a chick flick might be more amusing than the movie itself. But he doesn’t utter a single objection—which is how I know that Natasha has him all but wrapped around her finger.

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