HEAVY, her mouth was dry. Peeling her tongue from the roof of her mouth, the aching sting in her throat demanded a cough, but that was too much effort.
God, her head hurt. Her sinuses burned. What was—
“Try not to move.”
A voice. Who the hell said that? Opening her eyes was difficult. When she tried, the heat of light closed them again.
“Who is that?”
“You’re safe, Miss McLeod.”
Not if she didn’t know who was with her.
Conn’s room at the loft was never bright, not like this, except… Memory returned slowly. Not that details mattered. Only one thing counted.
“Conn,” she whispered.
The voice wasn’t his. His brogue was one she’d recognize anywhere, and it definitely wasn’t in that room with her. If he wasn’t there, if she wasn’t…
Forcing her eyelids apart, she didn’t see anything familiar. White walls, an overhead light, rolling her head on the pillow sent another shot of pain in every direction. Wincing against it, she couldn’t give into it, she could be in danger, vulnerable…
“Please stay still.”
“Who are you?”
The guy at her bedside was writing something on a clipboard. Was this a hospital? No, there was a mirror on the wall and a dresser in the corner by a long window, pale curtains closed over it. Was it night?
“I’m looking after you,” the stranger said, putting the clipboard on the nightstand.
“Where am I?”
“Still in the city, don’t worry. We needed to bring you here for—you’re safe.”
“This isn’t a hospital.”
“No, but we are taking care of you.”
“Who is we?” she asked, fighting the pain to sit up.
When he tried to pressure her shoulders back, she batted his arms away.
“Please, you’re still weak.”
Weak, yeah, still had some fight in her though.
“Not too weak to blast out of here.”
What was obvious to her? Wherever she was, Conn wasn’t there.
“No, but Miss McLeod—”
“Stop using that word, I don’t want to hear that name.” Strange how nauseating it was to hear the name she’d been called her whole life. “I want to get out of here.”
The tube in her arm connected to a bag of liquid on a stand. Didn’t fucking matter, she’d tear off her own limb before living without him for another second. She dragged off the tape.
“Don’t!” the stranger insisted, fighting against her as she tried to pull at the tether. “Please, Miss McLeod, you’ll hurt yourself.”
“Leave me alone. Stop touching me.” She swatted at his hands. “Let go of me!”
“You heard her.”
And just like that her heart shattered. Whipping around, she couldn’t breathe in the unknown reality.
“Mo Grá,” the whisper crossed her lips, mired in disbelief.
It wasn’t just that her guy was there, he stood tall, alive, astute, exactly the man she remembered. Every bit as delicious and intimidating.
“Split, doc,” Conn said, his eyes settling on hers.
Doing as told, the stranger, the doctor, left, closing the door behind him.
“I need to get this thing out—”
“Hold,” Conn said.
She stopped to look at him again; that glare wasn’t usually fixed on her.
“I did what I was told,” she said. “Went to our bedroom and—why didn’t you come to me, Mo Grá?”
“I don’t answer your questions.”
Something was different. Something was wrong. Wrong beyond the point of unsettling. Why was he still over there by the door?
When her eyes closed again, she didn’t want to open them. “At least I know.”
Hollowed out in the space of a blink, knowledge didn’t always lead to enlightenment… or satisfaction. With one long tug, she yanked the tube from her arm, feeling absolutely nothing.
Clambering to her feet, the room spun, yet there he was beside her, steadying her. His hand on her arm was a bliss she’d never feel again. The strength of that grip, the security of him.
This. Him. How could she ever go on without him?
With a yank the other way, he put her back on her ass on the bed. “Stay there.”
“I’m sorry, Conn.” His shirt. Her body was covered by his shirt, though it wasn’t the same one she’d put on in the closet. “I know that doesn’t cover it, that no words will ever—”
“The loft is being transferred into your name.” He’d gone back to the door. “It, and everything in it, belong to you now. Money has been put in your bank account, and you’ll get a payment every month.”
“A payment every month…” Gradually, her senses returned, but they didn’t help her understand. Was it a fog caused by the drugs? “Why would I—I don’t understand.”
“The McDades will look after you. Financially.” As opposed to… “You have our sincere apologies for the failure.”
“Failure…” the whisper came out on an exhale, though her eyes closed as her head shook. She squinted at him. “Baby, I don’t understand what—”
“You are free of McDade constraints. Stag will remain open to you. We will never take that away from you, but… be smart with it.”
Those four words were the closest she’d heard him to normality yet. “Conn…” Climbing onto the bed on her knees, she sat on her feet. “Can we maybe talk about this later?”
When up was up again, hopefully.
“Aye.”
Except when he turned away, she surged higher. “Conn…” Over his shoulder, his eyes cut to hers. “That doesn’t mean leave, that means come over here.” Lifting her arms, she hoped he’d come to them, except he stayed put. “I missed you; I was so worried—scared, Conn. I was terrified you’d—I didn’t know what happened and… You don’t know how seeing you again is just—Mo Grá.”
Those powerful green eyes zeroed in as he turned. “Don’t you get it? You’re free, Bluebell.”
He’d never called her that before. When referencing her with his guys, yeah. From his mouth direct to her ears? Never.
“Free from… free from what?”
“Our failure freed you.”
“Our failure?”
“My failure,” he said. “We had a simple contract. The McDade shield protects you so long as we’re together. It failed, I failed, you have no obligation to me or our former relationship.”
“Former? This wasn’t…” Shit, she couldn’t believe his skewed perspective. “You didn’t fail. The McDades didn’t fail. My God, what have you been carrying?” Unfolding one leg, then the other, she left the bed to get closer. “Where am I always safe? With you.” Nothing had changed that belief, that truth. “You didn’t fail, you proved yourself.” His frown deepened. “Not only was I safe with you, you gave your life for mine. The McDade shield didn’t fail, I failed it by letting a McLeod threat through. This wasn’t McDades’ fault. It was mine.” Sliding a hand up the center of his body, it ascended to his jaw. “Mo Grá.” Didn’t he see it? Feel it? Understand nothing could ever part them. “I’m yours. Forever. I’ve never been prouder of you, safer with you, than I was in that room. Though…” Her hand dropped to her chest in a fist. “I can understand you may never forgive me. I put you there. Put you in—you took that shot for me, and my father—this was my mess, my doing and you—”
He grabbed the side of her head, his fingers biting deep, silencing her. “This is your kingdom.”
Yanking hard, he stole her mouth with his, the sweet pressure of his desperate need proved just how much he’d missed her. He’d been in pain too, just like her, physical, emotional, whatever it was, their need gave them life.
Locking an arm around her waist, he carried her to the bed, legs dangling. As he laid her down, he loosened his belt and with their eyes locked, he plunged inside her.
Body bucking, she called out. Tears instantly wet her eyes. Not tears of pain or sadness, gratified, complete, wonderful tears that kept flowing even as she smiled and moved with him.
His cock filling her full was the link they’d both missed. Neither could be whole without the promise of this union. Yes, it was about pleasure and desire, but the need between them was deeper. She’d almost lost him, could’ve lost him, and she could only be certain of them by experiencing this.
“Conn…” she whispered, writhing with the thump of pleasure beating within her.
The word, his moniker, sped his thrusts, and her calls. She didn’t know who was close, even who was on the other side of the door. It didn’t matter. This McDade, her McDade, prioritized her safety.
Had he really believed he’d failed her? Shit, he must’ve been in agony. Though it wouldn’t have matched hers.
“Yes,” she whispered, her panting became quick, short gasps. “Yes, Conn—baby—Mo Grá.”
Love wasn’t enough, orgasm wasn’t enough, every whisper of need pulled and tugged, twining against him, around him, pulling his own climax with hers, demanding they both yield, surrender to the inevitable.
When he peaked, he slammed her over the line again. A string of foreign words leaped from his strained throat, through his gritted teeth.
Yes, this was her man, her completion.