Page 177 of Toxic

"No, on the fucking floor. The bed’s too comfortable."

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny." His face remained still and cold. "How often do you do it?" And Liam just marched inside, like it was his bedroom, and I followed, feeling incredibly awkward.

"I don’t understand why you’re asking. Do you want to hurt yourself on purpose?"

His eyes locked onto mine.

"Hurt? Do you think I still care about you? Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just curious."

It was all bullshit, his game, but no way in hell was I going to tell him about my sex life—that would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

"You’re… really thin, Liam. Are you eating properly?" I whispered.

"Do you even care what’s going on with me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I do, Liam, I just… I’m worried. You look very skinny."

"I don’t have much of an appetite."

He glanced at my nest, which was pretty big and well-crafted—something I was strangely proud of. I adored when Skye would attentively look at my work, and the genuineadmiration in his eyes filled something deep inside me. I loved that he… enjoyed my effort.

"What are you doing here? Nesting?"

My mouth gaped. Seriously? I was stunned he even asked. But he didn’t stop there.

"Are you pretending you’re an omega… for him? Is this some kind of sexy game? A kink?"

My gaze went to the bed, and I felt incredibly stupid, my cheeks burning. For the first time, I understood why omegas hated it when someone commented on their nests. It was so delicate and intensely intimate, intended only for my alpha to see, and Liam had metaphorically spat on it. It hurt.

"No. It just… happened," I choked out.

He stared at me for a moment, then suddenly sat on the edge of the bed, his hand flicked over the side of the nest. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just stood there. Liam was in a very bizarre mood, and honestly, he was freaking me out more every minute. My hands were getting clammy.

He squinted at me, his gaze sliding over my body.

"Still pregnant? It’s soon, right?"

I gritted my teeth. "What’s soon?"

"The miscarriage, of course."

A wave of anger and bitterness washed over me. How could he say that so casually? This wasn’t Liam; it was like a ghost of him, something terrible. Maybe he was some kind of zombie—his dead body taken over by a demon—out for revenge.

"You say that so lightly," I whispered, devastated.

"Honestly, I’m sort of waiting for it. Maybe then he’ll understand he can’t start a family with you, and you’ll stop fooling yourself too."

Every word felt like a whip’s lash. It hurt so much, but I knew I deserved it. I took it as part of my punishment. A wave of almost masochistic pleasure washed over me. Yes, let himpunish me, hurt me, humiliate me, because what I did was even worse. There was no escaping that fact.

"I’m sorry, Liam. I have no excuse for myself, none. I led you on and hurt you."

Liam’s eyes remained cold, strangely empty.

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "I don't forgive you."

Right then, we both heard the door slam, and Liam's face twisted into a strange, empty smile.

I blinked, surprised that Skye was back so soon—I thought he wouldn't be home for a few more hours. That didn't bode well.

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