Page 123 of Under the Lies

Maybe it would if we weren’t in public. If it was just him and I, but I can’t trust anything that leaves his mouth when we’re in public.

None of this is real.

His touch can lie as much as his words.

And I don’t believe his hold now.

I tear away from Noah.

He tries to grab me, but I dart away, spinning into the crowd.

Pushing and shoving my way through, I hear Noah shout behind me, but I don’t stop and soon I have the exit in view.

“Sayer.” Noah grabs my arm, stopping me from escaping.

“Let me go, Noah.” I keep facing forward until he doesn’t give me a choice, turning me around.

“Sayer—” Someone knocks into him and the hold on me loosens. Not wasting a second, I pull free and all but run to the exit.

However, I get stopped again when a very tall man steps in my path. I slam into his chest and his arms shoot out to steady me. Not letting me go.

Blinking up at him, it takes me a minute to process who it is.

Seamus grins down at me. “Going so soon?”

He’s bigger than I remember, bulkier where the leather of his jacket strains against his shoulders. More bruised too. I’m close enough to realize that his face isn’t just covered in bruises and his hands aren’t only home to tattoos, but also freckles. Small, light freckles.

Noah’s freckles are better.

I start to back up, but he follows me like a snake charmer, weaving his body to the music while making my exit impossible.

My back hits the table’s edge and the charmer’s arms go on either side, a cage of ripped muscle and soft leather and smoky cloves.

“How rude of me. You and I haven’t been properly introduced.” He leans down. “I’m Seamus.”

When I don’t say anything, he tsks. “This is where you say who you are.”

“You already know who I am.” My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it.

“Indeed, I do. But what I don’t know is: what does he want from you?” His voice sends a shiver down my body. And not from the sensual sound of the octave or the timbre that shakes his Adam’s apple against my shoulder. “What makes you so special?”

“What does who want from me?” I play coy. It’s not hard to guess who he means, though.

“Aw, don’t play dumb, blondie.” He sounds disappointed. “That’s such a stereotype.”

He leans even closer. “Let me be more—”

A fist skims my face as it protrudes from behind me—slamming into Seamus’s nose.

“Motherfucker,” he roars as he stumbles back.

A cold hand grabs my shoulder, pulling me back.

Noah.

The face of a seething man stares down at me for a moment, his eyes swirling with hatred.

“Go back home, Sayer,” he whispers. He doesn’t wait to see if I listen before turning his back on me and gave his full attention to Seamus.

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