Chapter 9 Ronan
Ronan
It wasn't often that I envied my brother. Yes, he was five minutes older than me, but in my opinion, the five-minute delay in exiting our mother's womb had made me a few millimeters taller, and definitely better looking.
Women liked Conal's calm demeanor, but they preferred my swagger.
Watching my twin coach Verity through some basic self-defense moves made me realize I'd fucked up. When our big bro asked us to give her some self-defense lessons, it hadn't occurred to me it would be a great opportunity to get up-close-and-personal. But now I saw the error of my ways.
The last time I'd seen Pixie, she'd been an awkward teen.
Too young to be a blip on my radar. But now?
Yeah. Definitely not a kid. And definitely not too young for me anymore.
And even if Conal liked to delude himself that he wasn't into 20-year-olds, not too young for him either, judging by the way he kept checking out her tits.
Conal spotted me watching him and frowned. Our twin channel hummed with disapproval from his end. I didn't need him bitching in my ear to know he wasn't happy about my interest in our Pixie.
He thought I needed a lesson in boundaries.
I thought he needed to get laid more.
Yes, he had Maeve on call, but…ugh. That ho was nasty in the worst way. Not even I had gone there. How the stupid fuck ended up shackled to the grasping bitch remained a mystery. Maeve had the looks, to be sure, but the moment she opened her vile mouth, I craved a bleach bath.
Still, it wasn't my place to comment on my brother's sex life. Or lack thereof. Not unless we shared. Which we sometimes did.
I finished my set and racked the weights. A light sheen of sweat coated my chest as my gaze flicked over the gym and lingered on my little pixie. Damn, she looked good this morning, with her tight pink yoga pants and tee that hugged her tits so delightfully. Sweet like candy.
Her bright eyes caught mine as she hit the mat with a pained oomph, and a fiery blush heated her cheeks. I fought not to grin. Her inability to look at me without blushing was so damn cute. Unlike the women I usually gravitated towards, Verity wouldn't say boo to a goose.
She and her sister were like night and day. Whereas I had no qualms admitting that Thea terrified me, Verity reminded me of a cute little kitten left out in a storm, all bedraggled and shit.
Did I want to rescue her, tuck her up in my bed, and make her feel safe?
Yes.
Was this at all concerning?
Yes.
Did I give a flying fuck?
No.
Conal frowned when he saw me sitting on the weights bench staring into space with a sappy grin on my face. Not gonna lie. Grinning wasn't my default expression. I only ever grinned like a psychopathic loon when I had someone locked in my kill room awaiting an interrogation.
Not that I was a miserable bastard. Far from it. I smiled. Flirted. And charmed the panties off women. So many women.
Or I had until recently.
It had been a while.
Too long.
OK, so it had only been a few days since the American chick, but in my life, a few days without getting my dick wet was pretty much unheard of.
Sadly, ever since our little sojourn to Italy, Pixie had stolen all my attention.
Seeing her on the floor, scared and beaten, had unlocked something deep inside.
A crumb of empathy?
Fuck me. The therapist Declan sent me to last year would love that. She'd accused me of lacking self-awareness. The bitch informed Declan I ought to be locked up in Broadmoor.
I had no clue why. It definitely wasn't my online journal entries detailing my fantasies where I eviscerated her with a Swiss Army knife, complete with illustrations for additional visual impact.
Honestly, I thought she'd love my creativity. But no. The bitch ended our session early and changed the locks on her office. As if that would keep me out. I scoffed to myself. She had no fucking clue.
Anyway, Declan decided therapy wasn't right for me after that, so I found a new hobby.
Pig husbandry.
Pigs were fun and intelligent, and also voracious eaters. My piggies loved me. Loved the snacks I gave them.
Verity hit the mat again and lay still for a minute, her chest heaving with exertion. Conal sighed and huffed, apparently frustrated with her poor fitness levels and inability to master basic self-defense.
I watched as he reassured her. Damn right she wasn't pathetic. My pixie girl was brave as fuck. Any girl who'd survived an insane father scored highly in my book. A lesser girl would have crumbled under the strain.
There was a point, around the time I'd rescued her from the ocean after she'd drunk too much, that I worried she might be losing her marbles. But aside from that little blip, she seemed fine.
Spending time overseas had changed her. She'd grown up.
In all the right ways.
Damn… those tits….
I began a set of leg curls while watching Conal encourage Verity to punch him in the face. If it had been Thea gloved up, I'd have worried for his safety, but Verity barely landed one punch on the fucker. And that was only because he stood still.
My poor, sweet girl. Teaching her self-defense was truly a waste of time. She didn't need to know how to protect herself. She had us to keep her safe.
I'd been watching out for her for years, like I watched over my sisters. Not that they needed my protection.
Verity threw a few weak punches at the bag and then muttered something about not being built for fitness. Damn right. The Lord had built her for me. And maybe Conal. I'd share if he asked.
Conal laughed when her stomach growled loudly. She blushed, causing me to lose count of my reps.
If I wasn't fully aware of the cunts she'd dated in the past, I'd have assumed my girl was a virgin, given how shy she acted. But sadly, no.
That last fucker could look forward to the same fate as the asshole who broke her heart when she hit 18. I'd heard her telling Saoirse about the way he'd treated my sweet girl and lost my shit.
He disappeared not long after. It wasn't as if anyone cared about his absence. Least of all me. Besides, the pigs had been hungry that day. Very hungry. And those cute fuckers deserved all the treats.