Page 34 of The Chief
“What, and go take on the Fiach Clan to save your sister?”
“Yes!”
I couldn’t hold back my snort of derision. “You and what army, Molly? There’s no way you can take on an entire clan. What were you going to do? Waltz in there and take your sister and think they wouldn’t put up a fight?”
Her eyes lost some of their righteous anger as she muttered a feeble, “Yes.”
I flexed my hips again, causing her to frown at me.
“Stop that,” she demanded.
“No.” Lifting myself up, I pulled her off the floor and turned toward the bed. She dug her heels in, and I looked over my shoulder. “Do you need to use the bathroom before we go to bed?”
“No!”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“I’m not going to bed with you.”
“You can stand beside the bed then,” I said with a shrug. Yanking my arm, I dragged her closer to the bed, then I threw back the quilt and gestured for her to get in.
For the first time, she looked at something with trepidation.
I’d seen her angry.
I’d seen her in a panic.
I’d seen her with a spine of steel.
But I’d never seen her cautious like this.
“Jynx?” I prompted, and she gazed at me with genuine fear in her eyes.
She swallowed, her throat working over a lump the size of a golf ball. “Please, Keir. Ican’tdo this. Let me sleep somewhere else. In my own room. In my own bed.”
“This isn’t a hotel.”
She chewed on her full bottom lip as her eyes took in the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor then.”
I scoffed. “This place is old and drafty as fuck. Trust me, you don’t want to sleep on the floor.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yeah, well, I do,” I grumbled. “We’re both sleeping in the bed. End of story.”
Absently, she rubbed at the cuff locked around her wrist, her movements jerky. Shaking her head—more to herself—she replied, “Can we remove the cuff at least?”
“So you can bolt in the middle of the night? I don’t think so.”
“I won’t escape, I promise,” she told me solemnly.
“Forgive me for not believing you, Jynx, but your track record has been to run. Why would now be any different?”
“I’ll be good,” she whispered in halting breaths. “I promise.” The hair on the back of my neck rose at her subdued tone. She added, “Just, please, take off the cuff.”
Even though it made no sense, I trusted her. Her fear was real, and at the root of her distress was the bed.
“I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be good.”
