Page 61 of Protect Your Queen

“What’s wrong, little Songbird?” I said, coming to her, but not getting into her line of sight. If she didn’t want to look at me, I wouldn’t force her. Not right now. “Why don’t you come sit at the piano and tell me about it.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Why do you want to do that?” her voice was a whisper. Sensual. Sweet.

But also scared. I wanted to wipe that fear away.

“Because you have a beautiful voice, and while I’m only playing half as well as I used toI…”

“To what purpose?” She swung around, her golden skirts swirling at her thighs. “That’s not in your bodyguarding duties. So why? Are you hoping that I’ll fall into bed with you? Play a few songs, and get the girl naked?”

Where the hell was this coming from? When had I ever given her this impression?

“What are you accusing me of, little Songbird?”

Her eyes widened when I got right into her space. I could have bent down just a fraction, and kissed her.

Her jaw clenched. I saw the little muscle flexing on her cheek. But those eyes… they were looking at me with desire, pure and unmistakable.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. So I asked my question again, but slower. “What are you accusing me of, little Songbird?”

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally let out a sweet, breathy answer. “All men want the same thing, don’t they?”

“You do men a disservice, if you think we’re all the same.”

“Aren’t they?” she said, trying to keep a hint of that conviction in her voice.

I chuckled at her answer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was being sexist.

Every man wanted a beauty like her. In that, she was completely right. But not in the way that I desired her. How I felt was different. There was nothing cheap or superficial about it. I had killed and disposed of someone for her. And I would do it again, and again, and again if it kept her safe. If it kept her singing.

“Is this what you think of your brothers?”

“No.” She stiffened. “But they’re different.”

“Why?”

“Well, they… they’re not like that. They’re good men.”

“Hmm,” I said, feeling the rumble of it deep in my chest as leaned down toward her, taking in her scent. Her sweet, floral, feminine scent. “The only decent men are the ones related to you by blood?”

Our chests touched, and I saw the small micro movements of her heavy breaths. “No, that’s not what I meant…”

Something had happened. Something stuck her into this black and white thinking about men. But then, that begged the question, how many men had wronged her? How many men had harmed her enough that this was the defense mechanism she had created?

“What about Brian?”

“That’s different he’s… he’s…”

“Old?” I chuckled. “I guarantee you, sweetheart, I will be shitting myself in a wheelchair, and I’ll still be able to get it up for an attractive woman. Brian has a wife. I guarantee you they’re still…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” She brought her hands to her ears and shut her eyes.

I took those hands in mine. Her hands were always so cold. It was a product of her being so damn thin. While I admired her figure, I didn’t like how it came at such deprivation. A little bit of fullness wouldn’t make her any less beautiful.

“You should get some rest, little Songbird,” I crooned. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

Her eyes sparkled up at me from those long, black lashes. Her lips parted. That luscious, pink tongue moved as if she wanted me to kiss her.

---