11. Declan
11
DECLAN
R onan's eyes are dark and angry, almost black, clouded with hesitation as he looks at me. With doubt. Rage surges through my body over the position I'm still in with him. It's true what they say. You can do a million correct things and no one notices, but you fuck a goat once and they'll call you "One Goat" the rest of your life. My mistake of listening to Eamon, being lured away even in my thoughts for just a split second of my life, will haunt me forever.
"It's got to be dealt with, Declan." Ro's voice is as thunderous as his gaze. Brynn had absolutely no reason to march into my brother's office and try to smear my name. The way I handled Mick was on par with every other instance of interaction. My younger counterpart is a fool, and I know my own brother can see it, but the rest of the family won't always side with Ronan and his mercy.
Yes, I fucked up by allowing myself to believe our cousin's lies, but I didn't act up on those deceptive thoughts. Still, the one time I met with him in secret, where I didn't slit his throat the way I should have, and it hangs over me like an omen, a predictor of my potential future behavior. Behavior Brynn thinks he will prevent if Ronan cuts me out of the family now. Brynn is about to learn a lesson in loyalty.
"I'll deal with it," I grumble, wise enough to know if I attempt to unleash any of my anger right now, it will make me appear out of control, and that's the last thing I need. Ronan has me walking a tightrope here. Isla O'Connor and the alliance formed by our wedding is my future. Marrying her family to ours will establish the O'Rourkes in new territories and quash disputes that have been simmering below the surface for decades. Everything is in place to make that happen, and when it does, Ronan will see that I'm in this for the long haul.
I turn to head to the door and Ronan calls after me, "Today, Declan."
My shoulders tighten at the order. I know the weasel is here in this house, probably just down the hallway. I'll pass him on my way to Ronan's living room where my younger brother Connor watches over Isla, who I brought with me to avoid another incident like the one a few weeks ago when she ran.
I'm grateful for Ronan's belief in me despite my failure, but I know the rest of the family won't see it that way. Brynn is a rat and a nark, going behind my back to accuse me of slacking off, of turning my back on my duty as an enforcer. Ronan doesn't take things like this lightly, and I'm surprised he is allowing me to handle it instead of taking matters into his own hands. It makes me think there may still be more doubt in his mind about my fealty than I thought.
The hall is dark, doors to each room on either side of the hall closed. The house is cool too, giving off a foreboding sense. I see the light streaming from the room at the far end of the hall on the lefthand side, where Isla and my brother sit waiting, and I see a form moving in the dark in my direction. The silhouette isn’t hard to distinguish. It's Brynn.
"What the actual fuck do you think you're doing going to Ronan like that?" My growl comes rumbling up my chest and out my mouth at the same time my arm draws back and I make a fist. A hard right hook into Brynn's gut forces air out of his lungs and doubles him over. He grips his stomach and coughs, gasping for breath as I bring my elbow down hard on the back of his head.
"You're lucky he didn't cut your tongue out for narking." He wants an enforcer? Well, I'll be an enforcer of our family's true laws and morals. We stick together and believe in one another. That's a fact that has never changed.
Brynn drops to his knees still coughing and sucking in air like he's a drowning man just revived. I stand over him, wishing I could kick him in the gut, but I know when to draw the line. This is nothing more than a chastisement. I won't cross that line and be called a traitor for attacking one of our own, not after my almost-mistake. I know how to teach a man a lesson, and that is what Brynn needs—to learn a lesson.
"Fecking hell," he gasps, and I knee him in the face, making him fall backward against the wall where he plops down and shakes his head.
"Do it again and I'll slit your throat myself, but not before cutting your snake's tongue out of your mouth. In this family we remain loyal, and your little visit puts a target on your back." I'm glaring at him, but in the darkness, I can't even make out his expression. There's no way he can even see my features, but I know he felt those blows, and I hope to God that he gets the point.
I leave him sitting there heaving and prowl the rest of the way down the hallway to see Connor approaching the door. He looks alarmed, likely having heard the way I struck Brynn. I hold up a hand to him and nod. "It's fine… Just a little discipline session." My eyes flick to Isla who has her arms crossed over her chest, staring out the window. She looks annoyed and bored, but she's still beautiful. "How was she?"
"Well, Princess Whinge-Bag is as feisty as ever." Connor chuckles as he turns to glance at her and then back to me. "But she wasn't a problem. Good luck taming that shrew, eejit." He shakes his head and slaps my shoulder as he walks past me. "I'm right glad you’re on the chopping block and not me."
Connor's passing comment irritates me, but I'm glad too. He has no clue what he's missing by not seeing Isla for everything she is. He sees only her complaining and anger, and he doesn't understand it because he's never had a disloyal thought in his life. Unlike me and Isla, Connor has always wanted to live this life. He loved it the moment our father started grooming him to become our logistics officer. He can't understand what it feels like to be forced to stay when your heart screams for freedom.
"Did he treat you well?" I ask her softly, and the flash of anger in her eyes as she looks up at me tells me what I need to know. She probably spent this entire time while I was meeting with Ronan complaining and bitching, and Connor probably put her in her place a few times.
"Can we leave now? And can I call my father, please? I want to hear how my family is doing." Isla rises and smooths the cream-colored fabric of her skirt down her legs. I let my eyes wander across her curves to her feet and then back up to her face. The way her light blue blouse hugs her tits is attractive.
"Come," I tell her, and I jerk my head toward the door. When we walk back through the hallway and out the front door, I notice Brynn peeling himself off the floor with Connor's help. No doubt, he'll go squealing like a sow to the first fifty people he sees, and he'll be doing me a favor, reinforcing that I'm the one who lays down the law in this family, and they'll all start to get the picture that I’m not to be fucked with.
"Your phone?" Isla asks, trailing behind me as we descend the steps toward my car. Nicholas has the engine running, waiting for us to climb in, but he knows better than to get out and open the door when I've had a meeting with my older brother. I’m never in a good mood.
"Later," I grumble again, and I open the door for her to climb in. She stands obstinately and stomps her foot.
"Now. It's been weeks since I've spoken with them and I'd like to know how they're doing." Her severe expression doesn't move me, though her stubbornness does annoy me some.
"Someone burned one of their outbuildings down and they lost a few sheep. They're fine. I have my men there. Now, get in the car."
I leave no room in my order for her to resist me, so she climbs in but not before glaring at me coldly. I roll my neck around and stretch my shoulders before climbing into the car and tapping on the dividing wall. Nicholas takes the hint and pulls the car forward as I shut the door.
"Is this how you'll treat me once we're married? Like a prisoner?" Isla really is feisty today. I like her spunk. I just don't like how she's taking her anger out on me as if I have any choice in this situation either.
"If you were my wife, you'd be on your knees with my cock down your throat right now," I tell her as I loosen my tie. She scoffs as I stare out the window. This attitude and snark isn't exactly the sort of personality I thought I'd be marrying myself to, either. She could go a long way toward being more attractive as a mate if she were a little less bitchy.
"You're lucky I don't seduce you just to put that slug in my mouth and bite it off."
Her biting comment opens the dam I've had holding back the worst of my anger over Brynn's narking, and my hand shoots out, grabbing her by the back of her neck with a hefty grip on her tangled waves. She gasps as I pull her toward me with so much force her body lurches off the seat and her knees land on the floor at my feet.
"Say it again," I threaten, and her eyes go wide with fright. "Go ahead and tell me who you really are, Isla, because I want to know who I'm marrying. You think I like this?"
I expect her to cower, to cry, to whimper and plead for me to let her go, but this shrew isn't broken easily. She tries to shake her head, and her scowl only deepens as she chokes out, "You like fucking me…"
Her comment takes me by surprise because she's right. I do like fucking her. I like it enough that I'm going soft, allowing myself to see her as a lady and not as a job, which is what this is supposed to be. But I'm not a monster, not the sort of man who just uses a woman as a means to an end and then tosses her aside, and Isla isn't a tool or a bargaining chip.
The uncertainty in her eyes, I've seen it before when I looked in the mirror. I've felt it. As rebellious as she is, as insistent that we are forcing her against her will, as much as she wants to run away and not fulfill her duty in this arrangement, I find myself drawn to her. I should abhor her disloyalty, but I find a common thread running through my own heart and I can't deny it.
My lips close over hers as she gasps and pushes my chest away. I kiss her hard, claiming that intimacy for us, desperate to prove to her that we are the same, that in our hearts, we are one and we haven't even spoken the vows thrust on us. Isla's hands beat at my chest for a moment, her struggling, muffled, vocalized rejection swallowed by my kisses until she softens and rests her hands on my biceps.
Then she kisses me back, no longer pushing me away but now pulling my lapels toward her. Her kiss grows hungrier, devouring my attention. Her hands move to my thighs, and I tighten my grip on her hair as she rises and straddles me. I pull her mouth hard against mine and don't give her a second of reprieve to breathe. My dick is swelling, demanding to be in her and show her how alike we really are.
"Mother of God," she breathes when I let my lips trail down her throat to the hollow near her collarbone. I suck it and bite the soft flesh as she reaches for my belt buckle and begins to undo my pants. I feel her pulse beneath my lips and relish it as she works the zip of my pants.
I want to tell her all the ways I can make her life everything she hopes it will be, but unless she sees it with her own eyes—that she'll be happier and safer here in this family than anywhere else—she'll never believe me. I have to show her, and I’m starting right now.
"You're a damn right wagon," I growl then bite her collar bone, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough that she hisses.
"Feckin' cunt, just own me already." Her neediness comes across in panting breaths, groping hands, writhing hips as she frees my hard dick and strokes it. She palms my balls in one hand as she strokes me. The sensations are incredible.
My hand reaches beneath her skirt, and I feel the moisture there, rubbing it with the back of my pointer finger as my other hand still mercilessly clutches her hair. I hook a finger through the crotch of her panties, and with one hard pull, I split them so the fabric parts and her core is exposed to me. Then I thrust my finger in and she hisses, turning her mouth back down to steal another kiss.
Her pussy is hot and wet, clenching around my finger as she strokes my cock. I add another while her tongue dances with mine, her hands fisting my shirt, digging into my chest. "God, I'm gonna fuckin' wreck you," I growl, knowing full well that she'll only ever be mine now.
"I know," she whines as she grinds against my hand. Her pussy rubs against my palm as my fingers sink into her. Her eagerness urges me onward.
She's so damn responsive, so ready for me. I pull my fingers out of her and line up my shaft, pressing the head against her entrance. She moans into my mouth as I begin to push in. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, I breach her. Her walls clench around me, the tightness almost too much.
"Jaysus, you're so feckin' tight," I groan. I pull back slightly and plunge back in again, this time burying myself a little deeper. As I do, the car rocks over a pothole and my cock slams into her back wall, making her hiss. Her nails dig into my skin as she arches her back, taking more of me inside her. "That's it, love," I coax her. "Take every inch of me."
Isla is a blubbering mess, shuddering and riding me, rising and falling as I thrust into her. My thumb finds her clit, and I rub it in circles as my other hand fists her hair, guiding her mouth back to mine. Her moans vibrate in my mouth, her pussy squeezing me tighter with every stroke.
"That's right, moan for me," I tell her between kisses. "Show me how much you want this." I give her every inch of my length now, thrusting hard and making sure she feels it.
"I… I… Holy mother, I want you." Her words are punctuated by the hard collision of our bodies connecting as we fuck each other senseless. My hand is crushed between us, but I don’t relent.
"Say it again," I growl, pressing my thumb harder against her clit. She’s twitching, jolting, soaking wet for more.
“I want you,” she whimpers, and her hot walls contract around me, so tightly I know she’s breaking loose.
"Say it again, Isla. Say you're mine," I demand, my thrusts becoming more urgent as I feel my own orgasm crashing down on me. My balls draw up and the pressure builds. Her mere words will send me toppling over the edge into the abyss of ecstasy, and I’m only waiting to hear her utter the syllables I need to hear.
"I'm yours, Declan," she cries out as her body shatters around me, milking my cock with her tight pussy.
With a low growl of pleasure and possession, I fill her with my seed, marking her as mine. She continues to rise and fall, slicking my length with more silky moisture. I grab her ass now, pulling her down harder on me so I can feel her warmth on every inch of my shaft. She shudders and continues to twitch as her lips return to mine. I kiss her hard and bite her lip. Fucking her into silence wasn’t my plan, but it worked.
When her body tenses and she pushes against my shoulders, straightening, I suck in a breath and rest my head backward on the seat. Her pupils are dilated, lips kiss-swollen and red. Her hair is mussed, her chest heaving for air, and my cock is still deliciously buried inside her, feeling her rapid pulse throb against my tender shaft.
"Just because I like fucking you doesn't mean I want to marry you," she says plainly, and I take her point. I really like fucking her, and she’ll spread those legs for me any time I ask. It’s unspoken, but I see it in her eyes.
"But that pussy of yours…" I lick my lips and smirk at her, and I watch her fight a smirk. Her walls tighten on me briefly, and she looks away as she slides off my lap, leaving a puddle of sex on my pelvis.
"It's mine… and I still want to call my father—" she says, but her words are cut off by the sound of tires squealing and then a rapid pop-pop-pop of gunfire. The car lurches, shocking us.
"Christ," she gasps, ducking down. I'm instantly on alert, and the divider between driver and passenger cabins in the limo goes down.
"We have company…" Nicholas sounds stressed. His eyes show alarm in the reflection in the mirror.
I reach into my holster, pinned under my coat on my chest, and pull out my weapon. Goosebumps rise on my arms. "Who is it? How many cars?"
It has to be Sebastian. There is no one else who would come after me so brazenly. The winding road between my home and Ronan's is safe. It always has been. It means they've laid a trap. They've been waiting.
"Two cars, sir…" The car lurches again from side to side as Nicholas tries to keep the pursuers from coming alongside us. "I can't outrun them,” he shouts, and I hear the growing panic in his tone. This is the worst thing that could’ve happened.
"Fecking hell," I growl. This isn't good. Isla is exposed out here on the road, and if she hadn't been so stupid as to try to escape last time, I'd have left her at home where she was safer. Behind reinforced walls and iron gates.
"What's happening?" she asks, but I don't get the chance to answer. Another volley of rounds strikes the car and we are suddenly spinning, toppling around and around. I shouldn't have brought her out.
Now I'm going to lose her…