Page 193 of Tempting Little Thief

Reluctantly, I lock my gaze with his and it’s all there, written in his marbly blues.

He knows.

HeknowsI’m good for the challenge and will play to win. The others might not see, likely don’t catch it, but he gives the slightest jerk of his chin. Letting me know he’s well aware of what an opponent I would be, almost like he’s attempting to stroke me like I’m a kitten, with his eyes alone, to make me purr at his silent acknowledgment that I am better in his eyes, yet still he says, “Cut it, Rich Girl. Let the bitch go.”

My eyes narrow.

Is he worried about her or about what the others will try in the aftermath?

His eyes narrow right back, a clear indication he knows what I’m thinking and he pointedly drops them to my neck. To the collar he locked around it.

I’m the one he claimed.

Something stirs in my chest and I relent, releasing the man.

They don’t hesitate to continue their brawl, and I sigh as I watch them roll around, knowing full well Bastian has the stamina of a beast. He can go all day.

I watch as he takes the Brayshaw by the throat, squeezing until his face grows an unsettling shade of purple, considering we’re outnumbered if this goes any further south. But just before the point of unconsciousness, he tosses Royce to the side.

They hop to their feet, and then a softer voice calls out.

“Are you guys done now?” We all look and my brows jump at the sight.

Okay, she’s not what I expected, but it’s clear by the way Bastian turns to stone she is, in fact, Brielle Bishop.

She’s a foot shorter than him, if not more, and her hair is a shiny, silky white in color, the complete opposite of his six-foot-plus frame and ink-black hair.

There’s a tender softness about her, which is so strange considering the world she was raised in. But it’s there. She looks as angelic as he made her out to be.

However, my world has taught me looks can be deceiving, even if I’m not so sure that’s the case this time around.

“You’re in his house …” Bastian’s voice is low and changing, awe and horror twisting together as he steps closer. “I know what this place means to them, to him. If you’re inside this house, then you’re …”

“Inside his heart?” Brielle responds, her tone soft and loving, even in her anger.

Good. He deserves that.

I can’t see Bastian’s face from here, but his shoulders begin to stiffen, refusing to accept what she’s insinuating. “Brielle.”

Bass slips between her and Royce, gripping his sister’s arm and he dashes up the steps, takes her by the arm, and pulls.

But then, everyone outside of Brielle and Bastian shifts at once, blocking her.

Shit.

As I expected, he loses it, starts screaming and shouting in their faces.

“Are you for fucking real?! You want to guard herfrom me? That’s my fucking sister!” My chest aches at what he’s not saying, at what they don’t understand.

He loves her with all the parts of her he can. She is his family. Hisonlyfamily and he’s here right now, fighting, because he’s worried. Afraid. He wants her away from danger and based on what he knows about this town, he doesn’t feel like she has that here. This is torture for him and I want to fix it. Tranq everyone and take her wherever he wants her to go.

But then Brielle slips through the wall of muscles hiding her, slowly edging toward her brother, and I breathe a sigh of relief. She understands. She gets it. Knows him and how he’s feeling inside.

Or I thought she did, but then she says, “Bass, please. Don’t do this.”

“Seriously?!” flies from my mouth before I can stop it and they look back to find me sitting on the edge of the window frame. “We drove ten fucking hours through the night to get to you, then you ignore him for days, and that’s the first shit you say when he whoops ass in your name?!”

I mean, come on …seriously?!

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