I didn’t need to see Ronan to know he was grinning like the smug, adorable man he was. Shaking my head, I threw on a dark green sweater dress, slipped on some socks and headed downstairs.
Kieran was rummaging through my kitchen cupboards, still in the same clothes he had passed out in, as he muttered about the lack of food. Ronan, on the other hand, was seated with one of my books in hand, his eyes scanning the pages far too quickly.
Then I noticed the faint flush on his cheeks.
Adorable.
Ronan looked up, and as soon as he spotted me, his eyes widened in sheer panic, maybe a bit of embarrassment. He slammed the book shut as if it personally offended him and threw it over his shoulder. I knew which book it was, the certain kink in that one was that the male main character liked to be called a good boy.
Interesting.
I crossed my arms, leaning against the railing as a slow grin tugged at my lips. “Read anything interesting, Ronan?”
He cleared his throat, straightening in his seat.” Nope.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound more amused than surprised, and turned on my heel to face Kieran, who was watching me like I was a puzzle he didn’t like the look of. Nowthat he wasn’t drunk, maybe we could actually talk without him growling at me.
“Who are you?” His voice was low and rough.
I met his stare. “Does it matter? The real question is, what am I supposed to do with you?”
The truth was, too many people knowing about me was a problem. A dangerous one. I was never meant to be found. But the second I found Xarothar, everything spiralled. Malrik showed up. The vampire soldiers. Then Ronan, and now Kieran.
“I’m pretty pissed that you followed me, and for that, you can’t have any of the muffins I made.” Ronan stood next to me now, eating said muffin in front of Kieran, who was scowling.
“I don’t want any of your shit muffins.” Ronan gasped dramatically.
With his hand on his chest, and mock disbelief. “I’ll remember that when you want pancakes in the morning.”
I looked between them—so different, yet equally impossible to ignore. Kieran was rugged and scarred, he carried himself like a war-worn general—broad, imposing, with the kind of strength that didn’t need to shout to be known. One hug from him, and he could probably break me.
Ronan, by contrast, was all smooth edges and deliberate calm. He looked untouched by chaos, too clean for this kind of world, but I know differently. The only sign of violence was the faint scars along his cheek, delicate and nearly hidden beneath his composed exterior. But no matter how different they looked, the truth was obvious—they both held the same quiet intensity, the same restrained, dangerous power waiting just beneath the surface.
I know Ronan won’t leave; he’s determined to gain my trust, and he might have some of it because I am still safe, and so is Xarothar.
“Like I said, Raven, trust him, trust them.”
As the two continued to bicker, I tapped my hand against my leg.“You know, don’t you?”
“I have my suspicions. If it is to be true, then don’t fight it.”
Easier said than done, especially with who they are and who I am.
“Cherry.” Ronan placed his hand on my shoulder, and I looked up his face was full of concern.
If I told them about what I had to do, and they agreed to help, Vespera would torture them for breaking one of her rules. I can’t put them in that kind of danger; my life isn’t important, and Malrik obviously doesn’t care; he told me so. I can’t let them be involved, Kieran wouldn’t agree. Hell, he doesn’t even know me, but I like Ronan. He’s sweet, funny and someone who deserves happiness.
“You both should go.”
I didn’t meet their eyes as I moved around Ronan—but of course, he shifted in front of me, blocking the doorway with a frown.
“I don’t think so,” he said, voice low. “Or did you already forget what I said upstairs?” his eyes flicked down to my lips. “The kiss?”
The way he whispered it made my chest flutter.
Like I could forget that kiss. It had been perfect—dangerous, addictive. I was one second away from climbing him like a damn tree.
“You don’t understand, Ronan,” I said quietly. “If you stay… you’ll die.”
