Chapter Nine #2
I wanted to run, but this monster in front of me wouldn’t allow me to do so. Lorcan wanted me, for whatever ridiculous reason, and this show’s sole purpose was to intimidate me into saying yes.
Lorcan said something to his men before stalking toward us, the steel chain in his hand dragging over the rough stone, leaving a bloody trail behind.
The clanking of the metal sent a shiver through me.
There wasn’t a spot on my skin that wasn’t already covered in goose bumps.
Halfway to us, he dropped the chain unceremoniously but didn’t bother cleaning the signs of his carnage from his body.
I feared he’d claim a kiss, but thankfully he stopped at a distance. He nodded at my uncle and gave me a smile that seemed like a threat. It didn’t hide the predator lurking behind Lorcan’s rough attractiveness, nor the menace in his eyes.
“I’m glad you could make it,” he drawled. As if this had been a pleasant invitation, as if anything was my choice. “Have you made up your mind about my proposal?”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to make decisions out of fear, but this was about more than my own safety.
The Devaneys would have no trouble taking hold of Mum and hurting her.
And I wasn’t even sure if Imogen wasn’t in their hands as well.
Finn needed Mum, now more than ever with me away in New York, and Imogen possibly gone for good.
Lorcan Devaney was my only ticket to Imogen. He had offered to find information on my sister as a wedding gift. Once I found her, I could figure out a way to run away with Mum, Finn, and Imogen, and hide from the Devaneys. There had to be a place where they didn’t have any contacts.
My eyes trailed over the blood splatters all over Lorcan’s wifebeater and arms. There was even blood on his forehead and on his eyelids. He had the Devaney clan tattoo on his right bicep, a five-leaf clover. Every man in this warehouse displayed the same tattoo.
I fought my revulsion. Uncle Gulliver’s gaze was practically X-raying me.
“Aislinn, silence doesn’t suit you,” Lorcan drawled, flashing his white teeth at me. No blood on them, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if Lorcan later feasted on his victim.
“I say yes … to your proposal.” The last word left a bitter taste on my tongue and it felt as if I’d just signed away my life.
Marriage hadn’t been part of my plan for the next couple of years, even before Patrick cheated.
I’d always known Patrick was too immature for such a bond, and I was never in love with him enough to see myself at his side indefinitely, but this was something I’d only realized after his confession.
Lorcan was far from immature, but a marriage to him would challenge me in ways I didn’t even want to consider at this point.
Lorcan’s answering smile was triumphant and possessive, and when his eyes dragged over my body, lingering on my thighs as if he could still see them spread apart like last night, a wave of embarrassment rushed through me.
“That calls for a toast,” Lorcan said, then louder. “We’ve got a reason to celebrate. Aislinn Killeen agreed to become my wife.”
Howls and clapping echoed through the warehouse, sending a new chill through my body.
Seamus came over with a bottle of Tealing Irish whiskey, and a stack of shot glasses.
He handed one to me then to Lorcan and the men gathering around us.
None of them seemed bothered by the fact that we celebrated our engagement not long after Lorcan viciously beat someone to death. This was business as usual for them.
Seamus filled our glasses generously, and even though I wasn’t one for hard liquor, I downed the whiskey in one gulp before Lorcan even raised his glass for a toast. A few men snickered.
“A thirsty broad,” someone called. I forced a tight smile, playing along as much as my churning gut allowed. If I wanted to gather information and not just wait on Lorcan’s gracious tidbits about Imogen, his men liking me would come in handy.
Seamus filled my glass again, and this time I waited for Lorcan to raise his glass. “To my fiery Irish bride, Aislinn Killeen. May our bond bring luck upon our families.”
I couldn’t read his voice, but for a crazy moment I wondered if maybe not all of Lorcan’s reasons to marry me were bad.
Everyone emptied their glasses, and so did I, even if my throat still burned furiously from the first drink. My eyes watered and my body flushed with heat as the alcohol traveled through my system.
Lorcan watched me with a hint of amusement. One by one, Lorcan’s men walked off, giving us privacy. Lorcan came very close, so close I could smell the metallic tang of blood on him. “You should start looking for a dress. I have no intention of waiting. I won’t give you any time to run away.”
“I won’t run,” I said firmly, which wasn’t even a lie. At least, until I knew my family was safe. I wouldn’t risk Finn and Mum’s life for my own good. I wasn’t like Imogen.
“How reasonable of you,” he said, his dark green eyes holding onto mine with an intensity that made me forget everything around us for a moment. Luckily the scent of blood was so potent it catapulted me back to the present, reminding me of my soon-to-be-husband’s bloody nature.
Up until a few minutes ago, I’d been wary about Lorcan, maybe even a little scared, but after the display I just watched I was positively terrified of being alone with him again. I couldn’t imagine he had any plans to become a decent husband.
On the car ride back to Gulliver’s home—Lorcan had refused to let us take a taxi—, my uncle said in his most soothing voice, “You made the only possible choice, Aislinn.”
“If there’s only one choice, it’s not really a choice.”