Tiernan A Dark Irish Mafia Romance - Jane Henry Page 0,22

licking through my limbs. Soon, he’s got all of me unbound, the tattered ropes scattered around us. My body’s limp, as the fight goes out of me. I slump to the floor, but he catches me.

I’m in his arms. I’m whimpering, curling up into a ball, then I splay out my limbs, but nothing I do eases the burn and pain and shaking. He lifts me up in the air and tosses me over his shoulder, but it scares the hell out of me. I scream and flail, and he quickly tugs me back down. He holds me to his chest, so tightly it almost makes the trembling better, but not quite.

I whimper and tuck myself against him, crying freely. I want to scream again, but it doesn’t help, and I know he doesn’t like it. Even strung out like this, even terrified, I don’t want to scare any children, and he said that I could.

We’re walking through the doorway, and the lights brighten. I hear voices, but they stop when we walk by. He’s rapping out orders like a drill sergeant, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. People shuffle to obey. I’m somewhere between consciousness and confusion. Who is he, that people do his bidding? Does he command them all?

But I don’t care. I don’t care who he is or where we’re going. I just want the burning to stop. We get to the foot of the stairs, and I hear a voice I recognize. I can’t place it, though. I keep my head tucked into his broad chest, and I can’t stop crying. I won’t look at the familiar voice. It’s a woman’s voice, and she’s troubled. She’s crying. We’re both crying. Even through my pain, I want to give her comfort.

Will anyone comfort me?

He takes the steps two at a time, moving like a giant through the forest, people moving past him as he moves, voices ensuring his commands are obeyed. Up and up we climb, until we reach a landing. He moves down a hall. There are bright lights, flowers in a vase, a gorgeous carpet on the floor beneath us. I try to take in details, trying to ground myself, but I can’t. I can only cry.

“Make it stop,” I whisper in a plaintive plea. “Please, for the love of God, make it stop.”

He looks ahead with grim determination on his features. “I will,” he says with a sigh. “But not the way you want me to.”

The sudden flare of hope in my chest immediately dwindles, and I cry even harder than before. I shove against him, but he quickly holds me tighter.

“Stop that.”

I can’t help it, though. I have to do something with my arms and legs that are filled with fire. They’re going to burn if I don’t fight. I push him and flail, crying freely, but his grip on me intensifies.

A door opens, and on instinct, I grab at the frame. My fingers anchor onto the edge. Something tells me if he has me alone, I won’t ever leave this room the same again, and the demons that plague me urge me on, insidious voices that hiss in my ear like flames from a fire.

Fight him.

Run.

Hurt him.

Get away.

He tries to tug me inside, and I’ve almost got him. He stumbles when I yank the door.

“Put me down!” I scream. “Put me down!”

With a savage tug, he yanks me through the door, turns, then kicks the door closed. He moves quickly. He must be strong to carry me like this, as effortlessly as if he were carrying a child. I’m whimpering and writhing against him, but there’s no getting away from his strong grip.

We reach the bed, and he tosses me down. I scream and shake my head, tearing at the duvet and pillows. I can’t stop the burning in my body, and I have to do something with my limbs.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” he says, but his voice isn’t angry anymore. He seems surprised. He raps out my name sharply, startling me.

“Aisling.”

I sit up and look at him. His hands are on his hips, his eyes stern.

“Stop that.”

My hands are around a pillow. “Stop what?” I say. Every minute that passes hurts worse than the last. I collapse onto the bed, bury my face on the pillow, and weep. I sink into the pain and burning, unable to make it stop.

“Please,” I sob. “Let me out of here.” My voice is barely above a whisper. I’m rocking on