Page 46 of Beautiful Liar

And no one would brand him if Tor didn’t permit it, and the way he was looking at Micah, I’m pretty sure Micah was two seconds away from being thrown out.

“Iambranded,” he said and pulled the collar of his t-shirt to reveal two circles, one incomplete on top of another. Henry’s brand.

The whole room reeked of shock as Tor dragged his eyes to Henry. The first time I’d ever seen the guy wearing an expression of betrayal. He schooled it fast enough to have been missed if you didn’t know him well enough. I knew him well enough.

Henry’s face turned crimson. “He’s myfriend,” he said in defense. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and returned to looking at the laptop.

“Okay,” Tomás broke the awkward silence, “so that means Kieran gets a collar. And since Henry is, well, okay for now, we should give the extra collar to Dasher,” Tomás said.

Dasher got to his feet. “No fucking way.”

No fucking way.“I’m collaringyou.” I glared at Tomás. Because fuck all if I was going to let him run around unprotected.

Dasher turned to Tomás. Fury in his expression, but also pain. Everyone knew his leg wasn’t getting any better. But fuck him, he wasn’t mine to protect.

“He’ll take your brand,” Tomás said to me, over Dasher’s blatant refusal and my fuck you, no.

Fox looked to me with the same expression he wore when Brooke died. The night everything changed between us. He couldn’t lose Dasher. Not after losing her. “Can you force someone into your collar?” Tomás asked, breaking my eyecontact with Fox. I almost laughed. Dasher paled.

“No. They have to willingly accept.”

“I don’t accept your collar,” Tomás said. Because of course he would. Then he turned to Dasher. “You either take it, or we’re both fucked because I’m not leaving your side. Ever.”

The stubborn way he said it made me believe him. He would stay at Dasher’s side, even if it meant something worse than death. The fucking martyr. I hated him for those words and wondered consequently if they were the reason why I loved him too.

Because fuck all, I loved him, though I couldn’t examine those feelings closely. Love meant shit in the grand scheme of things. Husbands loved wives who they cheated on and killed. Mothers loved sons they tortured. Love started fucking wars. It wasn’tenough.The word itself wasn’t enough.

Dasher folded. “Fine,” he ground out. “But I’m not taking another brand.”

Tomás looked to me to agree. I didn’t do it for Tomás. I didn’t do it for fucking Dasher. I agreed because of Fox. I owed Fox everything. “Fine. Fox and Morgan, you’re with Tomás. Wren, you’re with Charity. River with Micah. You go in pairs. And learn the fucking map. Avoid confrontation because they’re going to be gunning for you.”

“What about them?” Tomás asked of Tor and Rumor

“They’re with Declan at the castle..”

“Where will you be?” Tomás asked me.

“I’m a fucking heir. I’ll be on the dais with my pet.”

I glared at Dasher who didn’t look at me.

Chapter Nineteen

Tomás

While everyone else scattered, I followed Charity to River’s room on the third floor. I’d never had a reason to explore this side of the house. Wren’s room stood adjacent to River’s. Seemed right since they were best friends.

Charity agreed to receive the acolyte brand, like Morgan, and River was the resident tattoo artist that would inscribe it into her flesh. His bedroom was fitted like mine except it had an anteroom where he kept his art supplies. There was an ordered chaos in the art room. An explosion of colors and mediums. The room seemed to be an extension of everything he tried to empty from his mind. And he had a lot on his mind. The place was beautiful in its chaos.

“Wow,” I said. It was all I could say.

“Charity, have a seat,” he said, ignoring us looking at his room.

She broke from looking around too and took a seat, resting her pale arm on the arm of the chair. River meticulously lined his tools on a tray. They were all wrapped, clean. He obviously knew what he was doing. Watching him work was mesmerizing. River was almost done when Dasher walked in, and he didn’t seem surprised by the room. Then, he’d probably been here when he got his first brand.

Again. He’d said he wouldn’t get branded again.

“So, who branded you the first time?”

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