Raven pauses a few steps from the porch, the moonlight making her pale golden-blond hair almost glow like a halo around her angelic face.
But the woman standing in front of me is no fucking angel.
Far from it.
More like the Mistress of the Underworld.
No one can make fiery rage flare through my veins with the intensity of the flames of Hell except Raven Perry, and she seems like she’s on a mission to stoke that inferno tonight.
Why else would she be here?
“You missed dinner.” Her gaze continues to sweep over me, and despite the moon being the only light, she can see far more than I want her to. She can see how unstable I am tonight. How on edge I am. It’s in the way her emerald eyes narrow on the booze bottle, on my tense hold on the axe, on the way my entire body trembles. The reporter in her never misses a fucking thing. She sees it all. “Again.”
Fuck.
There is so much judgment in that single word. An accusation about my behavior and the fact that I’ve been ditching my brothers and their women day after day, night after night.
But she doesn’t know why.
Because I haven’t been able to eat for months.
Because sitting across the table from Killian, Willow, Liam, and Lucky and having to feel their intrusive gazes probing at me with every movement I took became a form of torture I couldn’t handle anymore.
Because it was always even worse when this woman joined us—which seems to be happening more and more often lately.
Almost as if God, or Karma, or whatever higher power exists out there beyond the mountain sky is punishing me for what I did by throwing that bane of my existence, a.k.a. Raven, in my path constantly.
Maybe this is my penance.
But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I scowl at her. “So concerned about whether I’m fed or not…are you my mother now?”
Her lips purse as she crosses her arms over her chest, which makes her exposed cleavage thrust out even more. Which she likely does on purpose, to try to throw the people she’s questioning off guard. “I don’t care if you starve to death up here alone, Connor McBride. In fact, it would make my life a whole lot more pleasant if you did.” Truth rings in her words and her unwavering voice. “But for some reason I can’t comprehend, Willow does care. And she’s my best friend, so I care about her feelings.”
Fucking hell…
That pain hits my gut again.
A volatile mix of guilt, regret, and affection for that woman who is so important to the McBrides floods my veins. Willow has always showered all of us with so much unconditional love, but it’s love I can’t accept right now. Not when I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without seeing the killer staring right back at me…
“Tell her I’m sorry but I’m not coming down.”
It’s all I can offer.
No real explanation.
No excuses.
I’ve used them all over the last few months—more than once.
Everyone is already done eating by now, but knowing Willow, she has an overflowing plate ready to reheat for me if I ever did make it down the slope to their cabin only a few hundred yards from my own.
She would welcome me with open arms and a genuine smile, unlike her best friend standing in front of me, who is more likely to stab a blade straight into my back.
Raven continues to watch me, shifting in her black combat boots on the pine needles and dead leaves beneath her as if being so close to me makes her as uneasy as it does me. “Kinda figured that since it’s already Niall’s bedtime.”
I wince at the mention of my nephew.
