Xander: My condolences about Glyn, Captain. It’s my worst nightmare to imagine some fucker taking away my Cecily.
Aiden: Hello? They’re old enough to be independent, so can we normalize letting them live their lives?
Cole: Except for my Ariella. She’s only sixteen. My Ava is off-limits, too. Do you hear that, Aiden? Let Eli know.
Aiden: You’re so delusional to think you can stop Eli from doing anything. Even I can’t dictate his actions anymore.
Cole: We’ll see about that. Don’t blame me for the violence that will happen when he comes near my daughter.
Ronan: Let me bring the popcorn.
Cole: You, too, Ron. Keep your son far away from my Ari.
Ronan: I should be the one to say that, fucker. She’s like a little hellion stalker. Jesus, I’m scared for Remi’s life.
Levi: You can brush me off all you like, but I’ll be the one laughing when you’re the ones who lose your kids.
EPILOGUE - GLYNDON
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Are you drunk?”
I stare up at Killian with a wide grin and squint an eye. “Did you know you sound so hot when you’re angry?”
“Glyndon,” he grinds out.
“You sound hot when you say my name, too.”
He taps a finger against the counter, obviously waiting for a reply.
“What? I only had, like, two drinks. Right, Niko?” I stare at my partner in crime as we sit on the kitchen counter while Gareth mixes us some drinks.
Okay, maybe there was more alcohol than I divulged, but it’s all Killian’s fault. I got bored waiting for him to come home from his shift at the hospital, so when Nikolai started drinking, I joined him.
And I still waited, because it’s, like, eleven p.m. now, and I’m tired and I have an early class tomorrow. But I couldn’t go back to the dorm, because this bastard has totally trained me to only sleep on top of him.
Or that’s what I tell myself.
The sad truth is, I’ve been falling head over heels for this man over the past few months, and I’ve been enjoying every second.
Killian will always be Killian, with his unorthodox methods, brooding personality, and bleak mind, but he smirks when he sees me, he kisses my forehead after he pleases me. He fucks me like he can’t breathe without me.
He shows me parts of himself that the world isn’t privy to, like the photographs he’s been taking over the years. Lately, his red room has been filled with pictures of us, or more specifically, me. In all different positions. During sex. Outside of sex. When I’m looking. When I’m not looking.
He said I’m his masterpiece.
I don’t even have to worry about other people, because he sees no one but me. I know because the other day, I went to surprise him at med school so we could have lunch together and a girl was practically rubbing her breasts against his arm while he was reading from a textbook.
He simply placed a hand on her forehead and pushed her away as if she were a pest—without breaking his focus from his task.
When I’m around, he finds it hard to focus on anything else—his words, not mine.
Only when I was a few steps away did he look up with that heart-stopping smirk. It’s seriously bad for my health at this point.
He’s definitely not smirking now. In fact, his eyes narrow the slightest bit. “What did I say about getting drunk when I’m not around? And the motherfucker’s name is Nikolai.”
“I say, are you jealous that Glyn and I are bonding, Satan’s heir?” His cousin points a half-empty shot glass in his direction, a shit-eating grin curling his mouth.
Killian completely ignores him, then wraps an arm around my back and effortlessly throws me over his shoulder.
Jeez.
This caveman behavior will be the death of me one day.
But I still giggle as the blood rushes to my head and I hold on to his back.
“I love the feel of your muscles,” I slur, stroking my hands wherever I can reach.
He grunts, the sound low and sexy, or maybe I’m just horny right now. “Fucking alcohol.”
Then he grabs a pillow on the way to the stairs and throws it at Nikolai, hitting him in the back of the head.
Gareth chuckles.
Nikolai jumps up. “What the fucking fuck is wrong with you, motherfucker? Stop throwing shit at me.”
Killian doesn’t even look at him as he continues up the stairs and into his bedroom.
He lays me on the bed gently and I whine in response as I lift myself on my elbows. I pause when I catch the scene of him removing his T-shirt to reveal those stone-hard abs and the hauntingly beautiful crow tattoos. Then, he kicks away his trousers so that only his boxers remain.
I’ll never get used to his physical perfection and the fact that it’s all mine.
Or to how happy I’ve been for the last couple of months.
Killian climbs onto the bed, lifts me on top of him, and closes his eyes.
I roll so my stomach meets his half-awake erection and I rest my chin on my interlinked hands on his chest.
Dark circles line his eyes and he appears tired, more so than usual.
He has loads of classes in med school this year, and as if that isn’t enough, the whole war thing between the clubs is getting worse.
I hate that Devlin got what he wanted and instigated chaos between everyone. As a result, the guys have a lot more on their plates lately. Jeremy is almost never around due to how busy he is, and Nikolai and Gareth only got tonight off so they can drink.
Everyone thinks Killian is a machine who doesn’t get tired no matter how many tasks he takes on, but he’s human.
He gets injured—like that broken arm—and while he’s a genius, he’s definitely not a robot.
“Are you tired?” I murmur.
“I’m not tired.” His voice rumbles against my chest, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m pissed off at you for drinking with the assholes when I wasn’t around.”
“It’s just drinking.”
“It’s just you speaking erotically for God knows how long. I turn murderous at the thought of anyone imagining you during sex.”
Right. He gets impossible at the thought of anyone else touching me. To this day, he’s still searching for the owner of the hand I posted on IG. No kidding, every time he meets someone from my family or acquaintances, he checks their hands.
Thank God Moses usually wears gloves.
I stroke his chest. “I didn’t think about it from that perspective.”
“Then start to.”
“Maybe Nikolai was right.”
This time, he opens one eye. “About?”
“He said I’m so special to you that it’s scary to imagine how you’d be without me.”
“I don’t have to, because there won’t be me without you, little rabbit.”
My heart does that wild flip again, the one where I feel it’ll break the skin from the spur of emotions.
Before I can form a reply, he continues, “And aren’t you getting comfortable talking about me behind my back?”