“Why are you telling me this?” Damien asks.
“So you’ll see her as a person and not just the Blood Princess.” Cillian takes a deep breath. “You probably got to know the strong version of her during training. Yeah, she’s a spitfire, but there’s so much more to her. She loves with all her heart. When she laughs…” I hear the smile in Cillian’s voice, “it comes from her belly. It’s loud and infectious.”
Oh, Cillian.
I struggle to keep my breathing even as my broken heart squeezes.
“She loves the rain. Always thought the clouds were crying when she was just a wee lass.” He lets out another soft chuckle. “She’s lived a secluded life on the island. After her mother’s passing, she asked me to train her so she could protect Sean. He was everything to her.”
Silence follows Cillian’s words, and I can’t stop from swallowing hard on the lump in my throat. I can’t break down in front of Damien. He’s only here for a year, and then he’ll leave. Right now, he’s my custodian, but a year from now, he might become my enemy.
Cillian clears his throat then asks, “Tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up?”
The seconds stretch long before Damien murmurs, “Russia. The family compound.” More seconds pass, then Damien continues, “My uncle took over raising me after my father died.”
“Tell me something that makes you human,” Cillian says.
This time there’s a long pause. “I like the rain.”
“What else?” Cillian whispers.
“Enough. I’m not having this talk with you,” Damien mutters.
It becomes quiet, and I can only hear Cillian’s and my own breathing.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Cillian asks.
“We’ll leave for Bavaria. It’s a five-hour drive. My brother will meet us there.”
There’s a knock on the door, and I hear Damien get up. Seconds later, he lets out a breath of relief. “Carson. Come in.”
Cillian shifts as I lift my head, and glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Carson walks into the suite. His eyes meet mine, and with a slight nod, he murmurs, “My condolences.” He turns his attention back to Damien and hands him a bag. “I figured you’d need this.”
“Thanks.”
Carson follows Damien to the bedroom, and they’re in there for a while.
Cillian brushes his hand over my hair. “You need to get some sleep, poppet.”
I shake my head and let out a sigh. “I can’t.”
Just as he pulls me into a hug, there’s another knock at the door.
Cillian gets up and opens for Armindo and an older woman who brings food and water.
I’m not hungry either.
Cillian shuts the door then calls out, “The food’s here.”
There’s no answer from the room. Cillian brings me a plate and a bottle of water before getting his own.
I stare down at the stew, and it makes my stomach churn. Bending forward, I place the plate on the coffee table, and then I open the bottle and drink half the water. It cools my aching throat.
The bedroom door opens, and Damien comes out, dressed in black cargo pants and a shirt that spans tight over his muscled chest.
He murmurs something to Carson before letting him out, and then he picks up the last plate of food and water. When he takes a seat across from us, he keeps his eyes lowered to his plate.
“What did Carson say?” I ask softly, not having the energy for anything louder.
“Nothing of interest to you,” Damien mutters before he drinks some water.
A foreign sensation creeps through me. I don’t want Damien here if he doesn’t want to do the job, but I know I’ll die without him. It feels like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, and they’re threatening to crush me.
Getting up, I walk to the bathroom, and when I shut the door behind me, I still and stare blankly at the tiles.
Dad’s dead.
Sean’s dead.
They’re gone, just like that.
The grief slithers around my heart in a death grip, and lifting my hands, I cover my mouth to mute my rapid breaths.
I try but fail to keep the tears back.
DAMIEN
I watch as Winter wraps her arms around herself as she tries to rub some warmth into her thin arms.
Getting up, I walk to the room and grab my bag with the clothes Carson brought. I carry it to the living room and take out a sweater. I toss it to Winter, then open the briefcase with money and load it into my bag.
“Are we leaving?” Cillian asks as he rises to his feet. He stretches then stares at me.
“Yes.” I take the Glock from the other briefcase and hand it to him. Picking up the Heckler and Kock, I hold it out to Winter.
“Thanks,” she murmurs as she gets up to shove it into the waistband of her pants at her back. My sweater is too big for her, and the sight of her wearing my clothes makes my body warm from the inside out.