Page 11 of Protect Me

The man—Killian—says nothing, but I can feel the rage rolling off him. The air practically crackles with it.

“I’m done for the night,” Adaya continues. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she adds, glancing at me. “In the meantime, make sure she takes the herbs I left for her.”

“Dosage?” he asks as if he’s done this all before.

“Every four hours. Make sure she doesn’t sleep longer than that in one stretch.”

“Concussion protocol,” he says, waving her off. “I got it. I got it.”

She nods, satisfied. “Be nice,” she tells him and then lets herself out.

When we’re alone, the man turns back to me, and I tense.

“You look a lot less than fine,” he says in response to my earlier comment, and I scowl.

“You’re no prize yourself.”

He grins, and I know we both recognize the lie. Even in my pained state, I can admit that he’s hot. But he also knows it. Which more than likely makes him an asshole.

“What do you want?” I ask, suddenly exhausted.

“Just checking on you.”

“Checking on me,” I repeat. “You mean securing the prisoner?”

“You’re a guest. An employee of the circus until further notice. I’m here to make your transition comfortable.”

“That’s your official role? Hospitality?”

Smirking, he drifts closer, and I brace myself for some sarcastic comeback. Instead, he says, “I ordered you some soup from the kitchen. It should be up shortly.”

“You ordered me soup?” My surprise derails me. Just like with his anger, I don’t know what to do with the kindness.

“Do you want something different?”

“No, I... you didn’t have to do that.”

That same brow quirks, sending the same butterflies battering my ribs again. My breath catches, and I immediately berate myself for reacting to a pretty face. After all, that’s what got me into this damned mess in the first place.

“It’s my job to get you well enough to perform,” he says.

I sigh, my head falling back against the pillow. “Fair enough.”

It should have been a cue for him to leave. Instead, he lingers, studying me with solemn eyes.

“You ready to tell me who did this to you?” he asks quietly.

“I tripped,” I say with zero believability.

“Then I’ll fuck up whatever floor had the audacity,” he says as he cracks his knuckles. “Just point me in the right direction.”

I snort then immediately cover my mouth with my uninjured hand.

Killian grins at me.

I cannot tear my gaze from him.

“What?” he asks.