Page 77 of The Chief
“But why? Your clan is allied with the Mac Tíre Clan.”
“My father’s clan is.Not mine.”
“I don’t?—”
“I’m starting my own clan, and with you by my side, Caitria, we will dominate.”
He was insane if he thought this would work.
“You don’t believe me?” he tsked.
“How can I work with you when you hold my sister captive?”
Owen shared a look with his Caddie before his frenzied expression returned to me. “You want me to let her go? I will, but you have to promise to stay with me.”
“Cait,no,” Orla whispered, tugging on my hand. “Don’t do it.”
I spared a glance at my sister. She was the goodness that softened my darker edges. I had to keep her out of this life for as long as I could. She was almost eighteen. She could leave Dublin, but she wouldn’t if she knew I gave up my freedom for her. Maybe Keir could take her back to Galway with him when he left. At least then I’d know she’d be safe, well, at least safer than she was here.
“Release Orla and I’ll stay and discuss my terms with you.”
Owen folded his arms across his broad chest and smirked. “You’ll be mine?”
Hope flared in his eyes, and I knew this was my only chance. Keir said I bewitched him. Owen said I was his obsession. Yet I knew which affliction I wanted to claim.
“I’ll be yours, but you have to let Orla go. I have to see her leave with my own two eyes.”
Owen’s arms fell to his side as he strode forward and claimed my mouth. His kiss was forceful, his lips hard against mine as his tongue intruded against my own. He pressed one hand to my hip, his fingers digging in painfully, holding me close. I gasped in surprise when I felt his erection pressing between my thighs, and my stomach revolted at the thought of anyone other than Keir touching me so intimately.
He broke the kiss, licking my lips, and looked smugly satisfied to be claiming his prize.
Resisting the urge to wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, I forced myself to give a coy smile. “Let’s get Orla on her way, then I can show you my appreciation.”
Owen’s pupils dilated, his cock twitching against me. “I can’t wait to break you, kitten.”
With another grin, he stepped away and looked at my sister. She flinched, cringing away from his gaze. With one final wary look in his direction, she turned to me.
“You don’t have to do this, Cait. We—we can find another way out of this.”
“This is the only way, Orla.”
Owen turned to the door, taking my hand in his and tugging me after him. Wincing in pain, I tried to communicate with Orla with my eyes, telling her to trust me. I could see that she didn’t understand, though, so I stuck out my pinky finger from my free hand, and prayed she understood.
Blood dripped from the end of the bat to splatter on the threadbare carpet in Orla’s bedroom.
My sister hadn’t made a noise after the first strike of the bat. I could only blame that on shock. I thought she’d hide her face, but she’d watched the whole time. What kind of eight-year-old would watch her older sister bludgeon her father to death? One who had already been through hell.
I looked at her, wiping at the blood on my face. “Are you okay?”
Her chartreuse eyes widened, but she nodded. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
“Did he touch you?”
“Not tonight.”
Not tonight, but other nights he had. I’d been too late.
“Not like that,” Orla rushed to explain. “He gave me massages after my football matches sometimes. Tonight was the first night he?—”
