Read Kilting Me Softly: 1 for Free Online Page A

certainly did pick a looker this time.”
    “You saw her?”
    “Kinda hard not to.” The towering male snickered. “Red hair. Milk-white skin. Just the right amount of—”
    “When did you get back?” What he’d done with Morgan wasn’t something he was going to share. He hoped a change of subject would steer his twin in another direction.
    “Oh I’ve been back awhile. Keeping an eye on things.”
    It took Conall a few seconds to get his brother’s less-than-subtle innuendo but when it did, it caught like wildfire. “You watched us?”
    “Aye. There’s a shirt in the floor of your closet that speaks to that.”
    No. He did not need to hear the details of his brother’s vicarious masturbatory fantasy. “Jesus Christ. Untie me, will you?”
    “She tried to kill you, little brother.”
    He glanced down at his semi-hard cock and gritted his teeth, not in the mood to joke. Let alone about dimensions. “You’re a riot, you know that?”
    “That’s what all the ladies say.”
    “One of the ladies thinks you’re a murderer, you crazy fuck.” Conall struggled against his restraints. “She thought I was you. ”
    Ciaran beamed, more wolfish than man. The first hint there was still something wrong with him. “I know. Lucky for you, she’s better at fuckin’ than killin’.” He sucked a breath through his teeth. “ Much better.”
    Conall’s patience had worn out long ago and now he was getting nervous. “Let me up, god damn it.”
    He watched Ciaran walk the perimeter of the bed, taking a place at his bedside. In a toss-up between his brother freeing him and pushing the blade deeper, his money was on the latter. Ciaran had a twisted sense of humor, always had. Being pinned down like a bug underscored his heightened sense of concern for his own well-being.
    “What was said at the clan meeting? The one I wasn’t invited to?”
    Conall huffed. “We talked about you. What else? You have to turn yourself in, Ciaran.”
    Ciaran shook his head to the contrary. “I don’t think so. I don’t like enclosed spaces.”
    He was referring to the cage in the cliffs. The one the clan elders wanted to put him in if he didn’t surrender himself to authorities. They thought he was a menace and a danger. As much as it pained Conall to admit the ugly truth about his brother, they weren’t wrong. “They’ll kill you. You know that.”
    “Aye, perhaps.” Ciaran shrugged. “Present circumstances aside, you’re one lucky sonofabitch, baby brother.” In close proximity, Conall noticed a glimmer of clarity and pain. His voice took a softer edge, naked with sorrow.
    Think. Think, damn it. “I’ve got Guinness in the fridge. Let me up and we’ll get shit-faced. Like old times.”
    “Old times.” A flash of genuine anguish flittered across his brother’s face. Ciaran plucked the dagger’s bejeweled hilt with his index finger, sending a shock wave of pain radiating throughout Conall’s chest. “I do like it when they play rough.”
    A wail tore past Conall’s pinched lips as his body attempted to fold in on itself. The upside to that would have been he might be able to get free if he snapped the bed in half. “Don’t pull it out, for fuck’s sake. You’ll kill me.”
    Ciaran continued to smile, not the least bit concerned for Conall’s welfare. Sadly, this was the brother he’d come to know in recent years. “No. It’ll just hurt like hell.”
    “How would you know?” He almost regretted asking such a question but it was out before he could censor himself.
    “Let’s say I’ve tasted forbidden fruit and suffered the sting that accompanies it more than once.” He pulled his shirt up, revealing a scar where something sharp had penetrated his side. Now Conall would match him in scars too. “Like father, like son, eh?”
    Conall failed to see the humor in his brother’s joke. He was referring to the curse. Their father had paid for his infidelity and his sons had paid double.
    “I’m not gonna lie