Page 42 of His Temptation

Daragh had been gone for almost an hour, leaving her in their room with strict orders to rest while he and Finn handled the cleanup. It had taken everything in her not to lash out at him. After all, she had taken a bullet for him, not the other way around. The least he could do was let her decide whether she needed to be coddled. But Daragh didn’t coddle. That wasn’t what this was. His dominance was something deeper, something unyielding.

And despite the chaos still storming through her body, she hadn’t argued. Truth be told, she needed this moment to breathe.

She glanced at the wound just below her ribs; the area cleaned and bandaged. It ached, a steady pulse of pain, but nothing compared to the storm twisting inside her. Daragh had carried her through the wreckage of the fight like she was something fragile, something precious, but she wasn’t. She had spent too many years surviving to feel fragile now.

Yet, when he had protected her, when he had torn through those men in a fit of violence so vicious she had barely recognized him, something deep inside her had changed—an undeniable, visceral realization taking root in her soul.

Not fear, not shock, but something else—something that terrified her more than either of those things.

A warm gust of wind swept through the open balcony doors, pushing the curtains aside. Beyond the estate walls, the world felt distant, unreal. The city still pulsed in the distance, life moving on as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t had her entire world reshaped in a single night.

She had known what Daragh was. Had seen him shift. But witnessing him lose control, seeing his panther take over so completely—it had sent something dark and possessive through her. It hadn’t just been rage; it had been fury—over her.

Siobhan shivered, gripping the robe tighter. She should leave. That thought had been circling through her mind for hours, whispering to her like a ghost. The bullet, the attack, Sebastian’s growing desperation—this would not end cleanly. If she stayed, more people would die.

And yet… she wasn’t moving.

The bedroom door opened with a quiet creak, and before she even turned, she knew it was Daragh. His presence filled the room instantly, a gravitational pull she had no hope of resisting.

She turned slowly, taking him in.

He was still bare-chested, wearing only black sweatpants, his skin streaked with dried blood that wasn’t his. His movementswere careful, controlled, but she could see the violence simmering just beneath the surface.

Without a word, he crossed the room, coming to stand before her. The air between them thickened, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in.

He reached out, brushing his fingers over her bandaged side, his touch deceptively gentle. “How bad?”

Siobhan forced a breath into her lungs, tilting her chin up. “I’ll live.”

Daragh’s gaze flicked to hers, something dangerous flashing in his blue eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

She swallowed. “It went through clean. It’ll heal fast.”

His jaw tightened, the muscles in his forearm flexing as his fingers curled into a fist at his side. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

She let out a breath, shaking her head. “You think I regret it?”

Daragh’s gaze darkened. “You should.”

Something inside her snapped. She pushed to her feet, closing the space between them. “I don’t.”

His nostrils flared, his control visibly fraying. “You took a bullet for me.”

She held his gaze, unwavering. “I’d do it again.”

The air between them crackled.

Daragh’s hands shot up, gripping her waist, pulling her against him with a force that sent a sharp jolt of pain through her wound. She gasped, but it wasn’t from the pain. It was from the way he looked at her, the way his fingers dug into her hips as if he was anchoring himself to her.

“Damn you, kitten,” he muttered, his breath hot against her forehead.

Siobhan let out a humorless laugh. “I never expected you to protect me, Daragh.”

His grip tightened. “Well, that was your mistake.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

This was dangerous.

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