Page 71 of My Fallen Saint

Thorne sees me before Devlin does, but instead of acknowledging me directly, he nods to Devlin, then jerks his head as if in signal. Devlin turns, and I see a tiny flicker of something that might be annoyance before he smiles and waves me over. “Sorry to abandon you,” he says. ”I thought you were down for the count.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him, my Spidey sense tingling. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“No. It’s fine.” He gestures to the empty chair, and as I settle onto it, some of the concern that’s been lingering around me like a dark cloud begins to dissipate.

Thorne looks at me, his expression unreadable. “I think I should go,” he tells Devlin. “We’re good?”

“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Thorne nods to both of us, then walks towards the exit. I wait until he’s passed through the doors and is out of the building before saying, “I didn’t know Ronan was here.”

He pulls the tie out of his hair, then runs his fingers through his mane as he says, “Yeah. He came in earlier.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just business.”

“Business? It’s after three in the morning.” I hear the accusation in my tone and wish I could call it back.

“Interestingly, it’s a quite reasonable hour in other parts of the world. Is there a problem?”

I sag in my seat shaking my head. “No. I’m sorry. The problem is me. I woke up and you weren’t there.” I meet his eyes. “And that really shouldn’t be a problem.”

“No,” he says, his voice firm. “It shouldn’t be.”

I ignore the unpleasant twisting in my stomach. What happened in the room—the way he took me higher than I’ve ever been—was supposed to be closure, after all. The final blow that toppled a lingering, raging need.

“Well, don’t worry,” I say, feeling prickly. “I didn’t drag myself all the way down here because I missed your cock.”

He lifts a brow. “No?”

I point to his shirt. “I borrowed.”

“Well, it looks a lot better on you than it does on me.”

“I’m not sure about that.” I can picture him, tall and dark and lean, the soft material clinging to his chest and abs. Definitely better.

“And that sent you rushing downstairs why? Did you think I would mind?” he asks. “After all, I said that you could.”

“I thought you might mind that I found your gun.”

One eyebrow quirks up, but otherwise his face doesn’t change at all. In fact, for the briefest instant, it seems to be frozen in time. Then he slowly shakes his head. “Unless you’re planning on going on a shooting spree, I don’t mind at all. Why did you think I would?”

I shrug. “I was surprised you had it, that’s all. Self-defense, I suppose? I’m assuming you get threats?”

He signals for the waiter, pointing at his drink and raising two fingers. “I keep it on me when I’m in a crowd or giving a speech. It seems prudent.”

“You’re trained? Of course you are. The military.”

Now he leans back, looking interested. “I meant to ask you earlier. What do you know about my time in the service?”

“Not much,” I admit. “It came up when I researched you—well, when I researched Devlin. According to the Army, you served and were honorably discharged. They weren’t exactly forthcoming with the info.” Then again, I didn’t dig too far. I’d assumed at the time that I’d learn about Devlin Saint from the man himself. After all, I’d had no way of knowing he was a ghost returned from my past.

“Ronan mentioned you served together, too,” I add. “But I admit I’m not sure. Were you actually in the military? Or is your record as much a fiction as Devlin Saint is?”

“I assure you, I’m very real, whatever my name might be.” He makes a point of skimming over me with his eyes, his gaze as intense as a touch, and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “I don’t think a fictional man could have made you scream like that.”

My mouth is dry, and I reach for his drink, claiming the last ice cube.