Chapter 23
KIERAN
S oft fingers brush along the scars on my chest, the sensation tugging me from the depths of sleep. I don’t move, not wanting Eden to know I’m awake yet. Rarely, we’ve been able to wake up together, and I want to savor it.
Slowly, I open my eyes to find my wife draped over me. The sheets have fallen down to her waist, showing off her golden skin, and her wild curls are a mess. This is my favorite version of Eden, thoroughly ruined and mine.
Her hazel eyes are on me already, but there’s a slight pinch to her brow. Her teeth tug on her bottom lip as her fingers keep moving, clearly lost in thought.
“Good morning,” I rumble, the words coming out husky.
Her lips twitch, and her gaze re-focuses on me. “Morning.”
Lifting a hand, I stroke a thumb between her brows and down her nose. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She looks away.
Sliding my thumb down to pinch her chin, I tilt her face back up to me. “Try again.”
Surprisingly, Eden looks almost nervous. It makes me feel a little uncertain as she shifts up on her elbow to look at me, pushing her thick hair out of the way. “I don’t think I am ever going to remember our past.”
My jaw flexes at that. Not because of Eden. I understand we need to be able to talk about what happened, even if I hate knowing there are pieces of her still missing.
But the reminder sends rage through me because we still haven’t found any of the bastards that took her or even how they did so. I have no clue what they did to steal her memories, either, and knowing that I still have too few answers makes it difficult to face what happened.
She slides her hand up from my chest to brush along my thick scruff, dragging my focus back to her. “But I don’t want to lose those parts of us.”
I relax as her words catch me off guard. “Okay,” I whisper.
Eden huffs, and I know that having an actual conversation like this is hard for her, like it is for me. It must be something that is really getting under her skin because I can see her internal war play out on her face.
In the end, she pushes herself to keep going.
“There are moments when I see or do something that just feels right . Like going to the cages last night.” Her thumb brushes over my jaw in slow movements. “And I want more of those.”
“Eden, anything you want to do or anywhere you want to go, tell me. I’ll give it to you.” I thought I had made that clear. Maybe not in so many words, but I’ve never denied Eden anything.
Maybe we still aren’t at a point that she can understand my actions as easily as she once did. The thought makes my chest tight, and I shove that away.
“What if I want…” Her head tilts, eyes meeting mine. “To know more about you?”
That is more difficult for me. I’m terrible at sharing, and I hate being vulnerable. Both things that I’m certain she knows, which is why she’s being so careful approaching the subject.
But I want her to know me again. It took me almost two years to get to where we are now. I don’t want to wait that long again.
Which means I have to go through the agonizing torture of actually answering her questions. Of talking about myself. Of maybe even admitting I have…feelings.
Oh, fuck. I think I need whiskey for this.
Without a word, I shift up, sliding out from underneath Eden. A startled noise slips out from her as I do, and I can feel her eyes following after me. “Is this your way of telling me to fuck off?”
Anger laces her tone, but it’s familiar. It eases some of the tension in my muscles. Still, I go to the bar against the far side of the wall and pour two glasses.
“This is my way of saying that I’m not strong enough to have that conversation sober.
” I settle back in my spot and offer her a glass, which she accepts.
I take a sip before nodding, dropping my head back against the headboard.
“You want answers from me? I’ll give them to you.
” I glance over at Eden, who has settled on the pillows, sheets drawn up around her chest. “Just know that talking has never been my thing.”
She chuckles. “I don’t think it’s mine, either.” She takes a sip of her whiskey.
I brush a strand of hair back from her face. “Not in my experience.” That has her lips twitching. “What do you want to know?”
I knew that at some point, we’d need to do this.
After taking her to the place we met last night and her kissing me for the first time since she went missing, I’m not surprised that she is looking for clarity today.
She hasn’t been as resistant to being my wife, but my actions alone can only earn me so much of her heart.
I want the whole thing back.
“You grew up here?” Her tone is light, like she thinks that will be an easy question.
I grunt, tipping the glass up and swallowing half of it. I should have brought the bottle back with me. “Yeah.”
“Kieran.” She narrows her eyes at me, but I know it’s more playful than angry. “More words.”
Huffing, I roll my head to look down at her. “Yeah. I was raised here.”
Now, she’s starting to lose that playful edge. Eden starts to twist away, clearly not willing to put up with me being an arse right now.
I catch her arm. “ Fine .” I finish my glass and pluck hers from her hand. “My father’s grandparents built the house. I lived here with my parents until my father died when I was ten. My mother ran the mafia until she passed eleven years ago.”
She blinks at me. “You took control of the city at twenty-three ?”
I nod, the whiskey burning pleasantly in my veins. It helps right now. “Lochlan and Rohan were orphaned young, so they stepped into their roles at the same time.”
Eden doesn’t offer any apologies for my past, not that I’d expect her to. “You three were raised together?”
“Yeah.” I pause to take a sip, rationing this glass. “Mostly trained by my mother, who should have never been allowed near children.” My voice turns hard. If she asks me about that, I might find something I can’t give Eden.
I’m a cold man, but even I don’t believe in working children. Training them to fight. Making them kill. I don’t starve or beat them—nor do I turn a blind eye to anyone that does.
Not traits I inherited from my heartless mother.
“That’s why you call them your brothers,” she says softly, and I’m thankful she doesn’t ask about the topic I desperately want to avoid.
I nod. “They are my family. Even if I consider putting a bullet in one of them weekly. They are the only ones I trust with my life—along with Mika and Jude.”
Eden’s mouth opens to ask another question, but a heavy knock on the door stops her. I don’t move to answer, but that only earns me three more raps on the wood.
“Go away!” I shout. My wife wants answers, and I’ll give them to her. Even if it fucking kills me.
“No,” Jude barks back from the other side. I recognize his voice immediately.
Eden fights a smile. She loves how no one actually listens to me in my own home.
“I’m naked.” That should deter him.
“Lochlan was shot.”
I’m on my feet in an instant. Eden’s scrambling out of the bed, too, rushing to the closet. I cross to my dresser to pull out a pair of underwear, stepping into them before pulling the door open.
“What?”
Jude doesn’t look too concerned, which eases my racing pulse. Instead, there’s fury in his ice blue eyes. “It was his shoulder, and he’s in your sitting room.”
I exhale slowly, the fear that shot through my veins dissipating. “He’s fine, then?” Not that I won’t go see him. But I will put on more clothes if his life isn’t on the line.
“He’s raging and bloody, but he’ll live.”
“Give me two minutes.”
I slip back into my room, finding Eden still in the closet. “It was his shoulder,” I tell her as I pull on clothes. “He’ll need to get it cleaned, but he’ll be fine.”
Relief filters over her features, and that eases something in me. She really cares about him. In the last few weeks, she’s been spending more time with Rohan and Lochlan—and sees Mika and Jude daily—but I like knowing my family is her family.
I lace up my boots and then grab my gloves, stuffing them in my back pocket just in case. “I’m going to see how he is.”
“I’ll come with you.” She pulls on her shoes, fully dressed.
“Let me see him first.” I give her a smirk. “He can get a little violent when he’s angry.”
Eden crosses her arms. “You think I can’t handle him?”
I finish rolling up my sleeves and step forward, pinching her chin. Tilting her face up, I hover my lips just above hers. “I think he doesn’t need another bleeding wound to be stitched up because he pissed you off.”
That earns me a smile, and I kiss her. It’s slow and deep, and I’m tempted not to pull away. But I do, stepping back. “I’ll find you after.” I start to walk away, but then glance back, remembering I’m trying with her. “You can ask more questions then.”
Swiping the half-empty bottle on my way out, I rejoin Jude in the hall. His eyes drop down to the whiskey before holding out a hand. I chuckle as I place it in his palm.
“I drove the prick up here.” He tips his head back, taking two long pulls.
“Not only did he drag me out of bed to take him to pick up his fucking sugar, but I had to pull a gun on him because he wouldn’t stop punching the fucking car door on the way back.
” He takes another sip of whiskey. “It’s too fucking early for this shite, Kieran. ”
I chuckle at the way his words sound lightly accented in his agitation and that exact phrase I’ve heard more times than I can count. I wonder if Jude ever realizes how much he’s picked up from the three of us over the last decade.
“Is Nolan here yet?”
“I sent Till to get him.” He hands me the whiskey as we head down the hall, and I cap it. “Rohan’s with Lochlan now.”
I scrub at my scruff. “You think we’ll find a second bullet in him?”
“It’s likely.” We turn a corner, and I hear shouting. Then a crash. “Maybe a third.”