Page 4 of The Chief's Captive

RONAN

Before I'm even fully awake, I feel the pain. It's searing, affecting every single cell in my body. It feels like I was cut into slices and sewn back together, and combined with the fading effects of alcohol in my system, it's nauseating. My head throbs and my body feels weak and limp.

But I feel something else, too. Someone's hands lovingly caressing me. Hot water streams over my chest. My hips and legs are surrounded by warmth. The gentleness of the water coaxes my eyes open, and I see the vision of beauty that I know is Dr. Maeve Walsh. She has a sponge in hand, cleansing my body of the blood.

I watch her for a moment as she works, unaware that my eyes are open, drinking her in. She looks tired. Her face is drawn in fear and fatigue. Blood dots her chin, likely transferred there by her own hands, which are also caked in blood. My head thrums with pain and dizziness, but I'm aware enough to realize she's being kind to me. She doesn't have to be, but she is.

"Thank you," I say, and it appears to startle her. She jumps and sucks in a breath, but there's nowhere to go. I see her eyes traceover my body, and I notice Finn's silhouette behind her. He stands with his back to us, but no doubt, his weapon is in his hand, at the ready.

Maeve's hand shakes as she plunges the sponge beneath the surface of the water that's already stained red from my blood. I see the hint of anger in her eyes, but I also see the redness of a handprint on her face—proof that my men hold the line for me even when I'm not coherent.

"You almost died," she says roughly, and her hand returns to my chest, where she scrubs the blood away gently. The Celtic knot there, tattooed onto my skin, is almost visible. So are three distinct wounds, stitched together with black thread and carefully sealed against infection. Or hopefully so.

"You saved my life," I tell her, and I take her wrist and hold her hand still against my chest. Her eyes trace over my shoulder and arm, where more tattoos display my pride. A family crest, barbed wire to defend it, and the eyes of a predator to remind any who see it that I am the king now.

"I had no choice." Maeve twists her wrist, pulling away from me, and it stirs something inside me. Not many women would be brave enough to do what she did—operate at gunpoint. But apparently, Maeve isn't just any woman. I knew my father chose her for a reason after much research.

"Well, it takes a strong woman to do what you've done." I reach up and push the hair out of her eyes with a single finger. Red tresses cling to her skin with sweat, and she squares her shoulders and clenches her jaw as our skin makes contact. "And you are a fine specimen of a woman." So fine, I find myself growing erect despite the pain. The water barely covers my hips,so it's no wonder when her eyes drop to my lap and see me swelling that she looks away hastily.

"I'd like you to leave." Maeve returns to washing me, careful to avoid the plump dick she created, and I smile at her as I relax back into the water, letting go of her wrist.

She's studious, carefully moving inch by inch across my chest, and lower. The blood in some places is stubborn, caked on and not coming away easily. She dips the sponge into the bath over and over until it only comes up red.

"Any woman who is a friend of the O'Rourke clan will enjoy my protection, Maeve. You don't need to worry about a thing. I can take care of you now." I wince as the sponge brushes over one of the wounds and realize she's afraid to hurt me. She jerks away and sucks in a breath, her eyes wide with fright.

"You don't need to protect me. I just want you to go back to wherever you came from and let me go back to my life." For a second, I grimace and clamp my eyes shut, but as the worst of the pain subsides, I relax again and breathe deeply.

Maeve is so innocent and so beautiful. Her perfect ivory complexion is marred only by dirt and the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. My father would call her a porcelain beauty, though he had his way with women right up until the day he was murdered. I admire how she is trying to remain calm, but she's not porcelain. She's grit and steel. She's holding her shit together better than some men in my own family.

"It's not so simple." My dick is throbbing as I think of her, but I have no energy or capacity to take her. Not that I would. I'm more of a gentleman than that. I never force myself on a woman,and I never have to. Usually, they line up to ride my dick. But Maeve seems to be put off by this whole thing, and I can't blame her.

We invaded her home in the middle of the night, and she was forced to operate on me under duress. The shock has to be something gripping. Maybe when she is calm, she'll be like the others. But I can see her being a handful too, fighting me tooth and nail.

"It is simple," she says, and she glares at me. The sponge hovers mid-air over my torso, dripping bloody water onto my skin. "I won't say a thing, and you will leave my place and go back to the rock you crawled out from." There's a fire in her eyes that begs me to test her. I'd like to, but I'm in too much pain. And if I allow Finn or Lochlan to test her, she'll break. She may seem hardened against me, but she doesn't have the nerves of steel to withstand them. The wild mare must be broken more gently than the hand-raised filly.

"I trust no one, Maeve, which is how I became so powerful. How my family stands against the wiles of our enemies…" I eye her skeptically and watch as she feels the defeat. Her shoulders drop, and she looks away again, flushed. My dick is still hard. Her eyes find it, and her lips flush dark with blood. She's turned on by my looks but intimidated by my persona.

"Please. I didn't ask to be brought into your world. I can be trusted to keep your secret." Her jaw is firm as she speaks, staring at the wall now, and I want to give her what she wants. I really do. But I can't.

Every one of my men has taken an oath, just like me, to protect our family at all costs. We have enough problems with Eamon destroying our unity and causing infighting. We can't afford ascandal I'd have to clean up with the garda. It's bad enough our men will have to deal with what happened at the pub. Letting Maeve walk isn't an option.

"You are a ravishing woman, full of beauty and wit. Surely, you understand how things will work now. You belong to me, Maeve."

Her eyes snap to mine. "I belong to no one."

"Ah, but you do. You just can't see it yet. I apologize that we met under such circumstances and that I had no time to explain to you how things work, but in my world, I am the king. I own you."

She seethes, nostrils flaring. "So, what? I just come at your beck and call? I operate on your men, and then what? What about my life? My job? My future?"

I chuckle, and it causes more hot pain to shoot through my chest, so I stop and breathe deeply to calm myself. I can tell it will be a long time before I'm back to normal. Much longer than we have here. Someone will call in a missing person within a day or two, and they'll come looking for Maeve. I'll need a cleaner to sweep her house, remove any trace of my DNA, and we'll have to cover this up. But first… education.

"No, princess. You won't come at my beck and call because you aren't leaving my side. I need a physician to tend to me while I recover. I need you to be at my bedside continuously until I'm back on my feet."

"Then what?" she hisses and relaxes back onto her heels and drops the sponge.

"Then in time, perhaps you'll change your mind about my family. You'll come to see that my ways are fair and I'm a goodleader." I swallow hard against the pain still lingering, fighting to stay conscious.

Maeve reaches for a towel and drops it over my lap as if my rock-hard cock is offensive to her eyesight. "I won't do it."

---