Page 30 of Riordan's Revenge

I pulled a face.

“So Cassie needs trusted people around her?—”

“Cassie’s the queen, and I’m her loyal subject,” Riordan finished. “Got it.”

Struan scoffed. “If you’re in her bed, you’re a lot more than that.”

“Not going to warn me off?”

I stared, hooked on the antagonism. Riordan had no reason to stand up for me. We weren’t anything. Not on his half. I was still fighting my own battle of mine/not mine. My brother had obviously riled him.

“Far be it from me to comment on who my sister chooses to fuck,” Struan snarled back. “But I’m happy to demonstrate how much you’ve pissed me off.”

Riordan cracked his neck. “We just going to stand here comparing dick sizes or have you got something bigger to show me?”

My brother concealed a flash of amusement. Without a word, I understood its meaning.Heh. Maybe I like him after all.

He centred on Riordan.

Then brought the pain.

For as long as I could remember, my brothers had fought, sparring against each other and Arran, too, when he came around. I’d taken the lessons to heart at a young age. By a quirk of fate, five street kids had changed from urchins to wealthy. We owned a mansion. Had investments for days. None of my nieces or nephews would ever worry about where the next meal was coming from. None would ever be homeless.

Yet that still didn’t afford us peace of mind.

Money talked. The threat of violence silenced.

All four of my brothers could walk into any room and command the attention of everyone there. Even Camden, who was peace-loving but whose scarred face gave him a brutal appearance. I would never be awarded the same respect just by existing, certainly not by the opposite sex. But that also gave me the opportunity to be more subtle. Piers hadn’t feared me until I sliced into his dick.

I hoped his nightmares were of my smile and my blade.

Struan worked Riordan through a series of classic steps. How to throw down someone running at you. How to get them into a headlock. How to break their arm.

Both men stripped their shirts. I nearly died at the reveal of Riordan’s taut, muscular body. I already knew he had inkwork on his arms, but it was across his back, too.

I wanted to taste every damn line. I needed him closer to explore it all.

More, I watched in wonder at the pretence he was putting on for no reason I could understand. Maybe learning to fight was important to him, but I wasn’t. Stepping up to my family made no sense.

As fast as Riordan learned, gaining my brother’s approval with sparse but meaningful guidance as Struan didn’t waste words, the bruises stacked up, too. At one rough landing, I shot from my seat, convinced he’d broken his neck.

“Sit the fuck down, Cass,” Struan snapped.

I did, though my heart hammered.

Riordan climbed up, breathing hard and dripping sweat. He wiped the blood from his nose, then returned to his position. “Again.”

If my crush on him was ever going to fade, today was not that day.

A while on, Struan called time and clapped Riordan on the back, muttering something I couldn’t hear. Then he strode away, calling out to Tyler that he’d take point.

“Are ye done?” I yelled at his retreating back.

“For now. Go back upstairs,” Struan ordered.

Riordan snatched up his discarded shirt and prowled out of the hall. I scampered to keep up.

We returned to my rooms.

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