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It listed my crimes, over and over in my head.
Traitor. Defector. Murderer, it whispered.
They’re going to find you.
You can’t escape from this.
They’re going to find you and turn you over to your father, and he’s going to break you once and for all.
And if she’s with you when you’re discovered—after what you did to save her …
I shook my head as I stared at the side of her perfect face in the moonlight. I pictured the parts of her they would present to me first. Her slender fingers, her ears, her nose. They’d make me watch, make it last for days.
“Damien?”
“Hmm?” I glanced up to find Clover frowning at me.
“What’s wrong?”
I forced a smirk before glancing from her worried face to the glass case. “Just poutin’ ’cause ya haven’t given me one of those biscuits yet.”
Clover followed my gaze and grinned.
The bleakness of my thoughts had destroyed my appetite, but I’d eat my fucking boot if I thought it would keep that smile on her face.
Grabbing two small biscuits out of the case—little beige ovals with a layer of cream filling in the middle—Clo handed one to me and crashed hers into the side of it as if they were pints of stout.
“Sláinte!” she cheered, taking a bite.
And with my stomach in knots, I did the same.
The moment that vanilla custard hit my tongue, the noxious cloud of dread that had been slowly suffocating me vanished, replaced by the warmth of the fucking sun on my skin. The flavor was so familiar, so … important, but I couldn’t place it. My mind tore through every memory I had, looking for the source, while my body hummed and buzzed with some unknown pleasure. It felt like laughter, like sex, like drugs—it was the high most people spent their entire lives chasing, and I’d found it with her, on the floor of a bakery in Wexford.
When the world finally came back into focus, Clover was kneeling in front of me with a half-eaten biscuit in her hand. I wanted to ask if she’d felt it, too, but I didn’t have to. The stunned gasp on her panting lips and hopeful glimmer in her wide green eyes said it all.
My heart pumped hard and steady, like the beat of a marching drum I couldn’t ignore. I knew I should leave her alone—take her upstairs and put her to bed—but my body wasn’t taking orders from me anymore.
Dropping my gaze to Clover’s mouth, I ran my thumb along her sugar-dusted bottom lip as I licked my own.
“Feelin’ better?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Clover nodded, leaning into my touch. Those big, round eyes were locked on mine, and the need I saw in them mirrored my own.
“You want me to kiss you, angel?”
Clo dropped her gaze as a shy smile bloomed across her face. I cupped her jaw as I waited for the nod, and the moment I felt her chin dip, I leaned forward and pressed a simple, closed-mouth kiss to the center of her fat bottom lip.
Which only made her smile wider.
Leaning back, I smirked as Clover tried and failed to regain control of her face. As badly as I needed to fuck her—and it was a need, had been since the moment I’d woken up with her sprawled across my chest—I couldn’t imagine anything better than the swell of pride I felt over her reaction to a single fucking kiss.
“Shut up,” Clo said, swatting playfully at my face before covering hers with both hands.
Reaching up, I wrapped my hands around her forearms and lowered them gently, causing her to blush even harder.
She dropped her head, trying to hide behind her wavy mane of hair as that smile turned into a laugh.
“You’re so mean!”
