Page 2 of Beautiful Liar

“It’s your Christmas gift so don’t open it yet.” He gave me a kiss on my nose and walked out.

The snick of the door closing behind him sounded like a loud explosion inside my heart. That lasted for two seconds until I turned to the small gift.

Fuck it. If he didn’t want me to open it, he should’ve done what Dad always did. Hide the gifts until Santa left them on Christmas Day. I picked up the small box and shook it. It didn’t weigh much and shaking it didn’t reveal what it could be. Kieranhad never bought me anything. We’d never even been on a date and weren’t technically boyfriends, though we did agree that we weren’t going to cheat around. We were exclusive and hiding.

I ripped open the wrapper, peeled back the tape on the box and pulled out a bright blue rubber thing that looked like a… “What the ever-loving fuck?”

The door to my room swung open and Kieran stood there with that fucking smile on his face as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment to bust in on me. “I told you to wait until Christmas.”

I lifted the thing in my hand, mouth open. WTF?

“It’s a butt plug,” he said with that smirk. “And you’re going to use it.”

Just as he said those words the thing came alive in my fingers. I yelped and tossed it like a hot potato on the bed where it continued to die a rumbly death.

Kieran busted out laughing as if I’d just given him a two second skit on Comedy Central. That damn laugh felt like heaven. It made his dirty mind all the more endearing. I’d give him whatever the hell he asked of me, but I couldn’t bottom. We had a few failed attempts. I had chickened out. Not that I felt emasculated, a word I looked up, but because I was afraid of the vulnerability. I was afraid to freak out.

The thing continued to vibe as if it felt my pain.

After several seconds, Kieran came back down from his high. That sideways grin on his handsome face remained. “Lube it and plug it up.” He winked. “And because you’re shit at taking direction, after your performance tomorrow night, we’ll see.” He tossed the remote on the bed and walked out chuckling.

Fucker.

I picked up the plug. “We’ll see all right.”

It wasn’t that big. Kieran’s dick was definitely bigger and thicker. I turned it off and stuffed it and the remote in my sockdrawer.

I shook away this feeling of emptiness I only felt when he left. In my mind, I knew that the reason for our secrecy was legit. If his family found out, they’d probably disown him or worse. But it still hurt. The nag inside my brain kept snickering that Kieran was just playing with me. How could someone like him want me? I wasn’t his type. I was just a trial run. Disposable. I had nothing to offer him. He didn’t need me the way I needed him. My argument of the mess he was leaving behind had nothing to do with the room and everything to do with me. He was leaving me a mess.

I swallowed down the negative thoughts. I’d give him time if he needed it.

I lowered my eyes to the brand on the soft skin between my thumb and forefinger. Kieran’s brand. Seven dots, linked by dashed lines to reveal the small dipper, Ursa Minor, the symbol for Arcas, the bastard son Zeus tried to protect. The brand meant that Kieran and I were tethered. Kieran vouched for me, trusted me. He had saved my life, more than once. I’d be his lie if that’s what he needed from me. He’d come back and when he was ready to come out, I’d be here for him just like I promised. Because I’d yet to break a promise and I wasn’t going to start now.

Chapter Two

Kieran

Present Day

You could tell a lot about a person watching them kill. There was an intimacy to the act. A private moment between killer and victim. I hadn’t understood what Grandfather meant when he’d given me that piece of truth. Not until I’d witnessed Tristan snap a man’s neck with his bare hands.

Tristan Alexander Brennan looked the part of boardroom CEO, not the backroom henchman like Grandfather. But underneath that dry, stern façade, hid a dangerous animal he’d released whenever needed. His people respected him while they had feared Grandfather. What better way to lead than through fear? That had been Grandfather’s motto, but not Tristan’s. Heearnedrespect. And unlike me, he didn’t give a fuck what people thought about him so long as they respected him and were loyal to him and his family. I was still on the fence if that included me. Up until a few months ago, I’d been his bastard secret, molded into a killer by his father, Cillian. My grandfather had torn me from my world when he took me at age ten.

And Tristan had done nothing to protect me from it.

My hate for him and his family had turned into a plan to take over their legal business. The Ark Boys, as my friends and I were called, had forced my grandfather to borrow against his legitimate business to pay off what we disrupted of his drug trade which ultimately led to his ruin. Too bad he died before I could’ve seen the fruits of my labor. I killed Cillian when he kidnapped Tomás. His body was discovered by two kids on the bank of Lake Wilmer. The investigation was closed. Tristan must’ve called in some major chips to have the death ruled a boating accident. The families had been whispering war ever since.

I wondered if Tristan suspected it’d been me. Every time I got into the dark sedan with him and his bodyguard, Jacob, I wondered if this would be the day all my sins caught up to me. Every time I climbed into that car I wondered if Tristan would order Jacob to veer off the main road and into some remote path, force me out of the car, and place the barrel of his gun against my head.

“Why should I keep you alive?”

That question still haunted me. Even from Grandfather’s grave, I heard the words.

Tristan wasn’t anything like Grandfather. Wearing comfortable slacks, a dark button-down shirt, peacoat and leather calf high boots, Tristan looked both like a businessman and killer. While Jacob wore all black without looking as if he were an actual bodyguard but exuding a penchant for violence just the same. Jacob and Tristan were more than bodyguard and client. They were family. It was evident whenever they were alone, whenever there was no reason for a threat. I sometimes envied Jacob that. He would’ve been Tristan’s perfect son. Healthy.

The reasons Cillian wanted me to lead had all been based on lies. He’d succeeded in turning me into his fucking minion, a killer. But killers were instruments of death. Not leaders.

I spent years hating Tristan Brennan. Wanting blood. I’d planned his fucking murder. But it slowly started to dawn on me that maybe I had been wrong. About everything. But twenty years of hatred poisoned a man. And I hadn’t been detoxed of that hatred. My only guiding light had been Tomás. Thinking how I left things with him burned a hole in my heart. When I first left, we had scheduled time to talk every night. That dwindled to texting, and even that fell silent. I looked at my phone. Like a coward, I hadn’t reached out to him in weeks because I couldn’t answer the one question he kept asking.When are you coming back?

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