Page 167 of Godless Saints

My fingers tightened around the fork until the metal bit.

I caught him staring mid-bite.

“What?”

Cillian shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No. What.” I swallowed the bite too fast. “Do I have something on my face?” I grabbed the napkin, dabbing at my mouth as if the optics of looking like an idiot in public might kill me.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Shut up.” My face betrayed me instantly. “I’ve told you a million times. Don’t call me beautiful. I’m a guy. You don’t call guys beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful. Pretty. Gorgeous. Handsome. Mine.”

“Oh my God, please stop. We’re in public.”

Instead of answering, he slid out of his side of the booth and into mine in one fluid move, slinging a heavy arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his side.

“What do you say we forget about House of Moon, Evermourne, the adoption paperwork, and whatever else is circling that pretty head of yours?” His voice dropped, rough against my ear. “What do you say we take a trip to Ireland? See the family. Then I want to take you to Dún Aonghasa. Just you and me.” His fingers tightened on my shoulder. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“What’s Dún Aonghasa?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“I don’t know if I can take time off right now.”

Cillian threaded his fingers into my hair and tugged, hard enough to pull my head back. “Yes, you can, my prince.”

I grunted, grabbing for his wrist. “Not in public. I told you to stop being insane.”

His fingers stroked down the back of my neck, lips brushing my ear. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Flight’s already booked.”

“Tomorrow? But—”

Cillian cut me off with a low sound. “Nah-ah. If I want you to myself, I’ll have you to myself. You've been giving everyone else pieces of yourself lately. I don’t like that.” His arm cinched tighter around me. “So you’re coming with me. If not, I’ll take you. And we both know who wins that fight.” The words came low against my ear. “Not that I mind when you fight me a little.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “Cillian.” I couldn’t believe he was doing this in public. “Fine. We’ll go.”

Cillian paid the bill with a black card and a curt nod to the waiter. We left the restaurant. The same black SUV was still waiting at the curb.

“Thanks for lunch,” I said, already turning. “See you tonight then.”

Cillian said nothing.

“What?”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the car. “I don’t think so, prince. You’re coming with me. Right now.”

I fought it, old instinct, but he was already bundling me into the back seat. The door shut. The car pulled away fast.

Cillian reached over and clicked the seatbelt across my chest. “Safety first.” He gave the belt a firm tug, close enough that I felt the heat of him.

“What the hell has gotten into you?”

He sat back, one heavy hand landing on my thigh, fingers digging in possessively. “You.”

We reached the penthouse. My fencing bag was still dumped beside his boots in the entryway, exactly where he'd complained about it that morning. The second the elevator doors closed, I snapped. “What the fuck, Cillian?” He pushed me hard against the wall, hand under my jaw, pinning me with the kind of strength that reminded me exactly who he was now. His other hand clamped down on my thigh, squeezing hard.