Page 266 of Lodestar

“That smile says it’s exactly like that.”

Glee flashed in his eyes but his words were lofty: “You’ll find out someday. Will you wear it?”

I could have leveraged the story for a promise to wear the damn thing, but no part of me wanted to hand it back to him.

We both knew what it meant. We both knew that it represented the future. We both knew that I was nowhere near ready for marriage. Yet, it bound me to him in a way that would cement ties with his family.

“Why didn’t you give this to me earlier?” I rumbled, not annoyed, just intrigued.

His brothers’ third degree hadn’t been painful, had, in fact, made me respect them. Not only because they cared for Conor, but because they were aware of my past and knew that it made me as slippery as an eel.

I appreciated a smart man—Conor was proof of that—but I enjoyed it more when men knew to tread carefully around me. Especially deadly men like the O’Donnellys.

“Because it wasn’t the right time.”

Frowning, I shot a look at the laptop screen where mangled corpses lay out in Troy’s front yard for the whole world to see. “Andthisis the right time?”

He shot me a grin. “I think it sums us up perfectly, don’t you?”

“I’ll—”

“Some women get fancy meals at restaurants, some get elaborate proposals on bridges over a river in the springtime, butyou get a bloodbath, Star,” D drawled. “He clearly knows you too well.”

My nose crinkled as I elbowed her, but my own smile was sheepish as I admitted, “He does.”

She snagged my hand and stared at it. “Who’s the broad?”

“An ancient O’Donnelly,” was all I said.

“How ancient?”

“The ring’s three hundred years old but she's not an O'Donnelly,” Conor answered as he started collecting his things and packing them in the case which he shoved at D. “Hold this. I don’t want to put my laptop away until we’re off this farm.”

“Smart thinking,” I agreed. “We need to make sure they can’t ambush us.”

“Fuckers,” he rumbled.

“I think this is proof that Garry Smythe and David Foundry know we’re onto them,” D concurred. “So, what are our next steps?”

“They need to die,” I said simply.

D nodded. “Affirmative. What about Dagda?”

“I sent my brothers a message before the siege?—”

“I know,” I interrupted wryly.

“—I haven’t received any updates yet, but I can call once we’re on the road.”

Troy interrupted our conversation by striding out of the bedroom and heading into a different one. Lyra’s hand clutched at hers as she tugged her along with surprising gentleness for a natural-born stomper.

Lyra’s chin was tucked into her chest, her face tilted away so that we couldn’t see her expression. The only thing I noticed was that her hair was a beautiful golden-caramel color.

My cousin.

My blood.

My fingers curled into fists, nails burrowing into my palms.

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