Page 33 of Vengeful Guard

“Good.” I nod.

She does it once more for good measure.

“I’m okay,” she whispers. “I’m going back to bed.”

I look at her for a long moment, and then nod slowly, walking back down the stairs. I try not to think about her wide green eyes, her long dark lashes. I try not to think about her pretty face, how sad it had looked. How haunted.

Maybe Paige Burke drives me nuts, but she doesn’t deserve what happened to her.

Feck Niall Murphy.

But I need to watch myself more around her. Nothing good will come from looking at her differently.

She’s still my best friend’s baby sister, and I have a job to do. Keep my eye on her and my hands off her.

Easy enough to understand.

Besides, I can’t afford to be distracted. Not when it comes to her safety.

Not even by her.

10

PAIGE

Sleep is something I’ve been dreading ever since the attack. However, when I go back to bed, I manage to go back to sleep, and when I wake up, daylight’s streaming through the windows.

As I sit up, I feel less achy and tired, and a look at my phone tells me it’s nearly eleven o’clock.

Wow.

Feels like forever since I slept in so late. How can a good night sleep make such a difference in how one feels?

My stomach rumbles despite the sandwich I ate after returning from Sophie’s, and I walk down the stairs, hoping to find something in the fridge.

Maybe Kael will cook again. As irritating as he always is, the food he made me was really good.

As I come down the stairs, grunts and low groans come from the living room, and when I peer inside, a shirtless Kael is sweating, punching, and kicking the air.

It looks oddly graceful, though, long, languid movements. Almost like a dance, but with fighting moves.

My body reacts. Traitor.

Jesus, what kind of guy has an eight-pack and is that wide across the chest and shoulders? He’s built like some kind of Greek god.

“What are you doing?” My mouth’s dry, and my voice comes out choked.

Kael looks up at me briefly before focusing on the far wall, continuing his sexy choreography.

“Little bit of boxing, little bit of MMA.”

“MMA?”

“Mixed martial arts.” He kicks the air again in a roundhouse kick.

I watch him, fascinated. And not just by his body.

If I knew how to do something like that, maybe I never would’ve been attacked. Maybe I could’ve fought them off instead of just screaming like a little girl and depending on my brothers. Maybe Jimmy hadn’t gotten shot.

---