Page 110 of Debt of My Soul

“Liam’s a good man, Adam. I’m not going to try to pretend I know everything you’re going through or unpack the history between you two, but he saved my life, and I … I care about him.”

Adam curls his lip in disgust, eyes flicking above my head. Over my shoulder, Liam stands there, arms crossed with a scowl on his face. Adam rises, stepping toward Liam, brother against brother.

I wonder what went wrong. Is it his mother’s favoritism that drove this wedge? The disappearance of his sister thwarting the family’s dynamic?

The seconds tick by, the tension between them sucking the air out of the room before Adam snorts and guzzles the rest of his bottle. It slides from his grip and shatters on the floor by my feet.

I yelp, and Blitz shoves off the girl grinding on his lap and grabs Adam by his shirt. With a raised fist, Adam pulls back and punches Blitz. Liam attempts to grab his brother by the arms, but Adam dodges and turns to shove him, smacking hard against Liam’s chest.

“I’m out,” Adam says, motioning around him and turning to weave through the tables.

I buckle to the floor, attempting to clean up the broken bottle, but I’m yanked to my feet.

“Leave it, Fleur,” Liam grumbles. Then he softens his voice. “We’ll get someone to clean it up.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into him, his solid form engulfing me. His masculine scent making me weak in the knees.

He pulls me over to the bar area where a few vintage leather stools line the stainless-steel bar top, and he sits me down. The woman behind the bar gives me a glass of water, and she offers me a smile before flirting with some of the other men.

Liam leans into me and his presence overwhelms me.

“I’m sorry about?—”

“You care about me?”

We both say at the say time. I freeze, my brain working through how much of Adam’s and my conversation he heard. Better yet, why is that what’s on his mind after his brother stormed out of here.

“It’s not your fault, Fleur. Don’t apologize.”

I swallow, toying with the hem of his black shirt, wishing I could pull him closer to me. I’ve been forced to endure his proximity over the last seven weeks and my resolve is whittling down to nothing.

“I know you want better for Adam. I know?—”

Liam silences me with a finger to my lips. “I don’t want to talk about my brother.”

The rough pads of his fingers press gently to my mouth, and I fight the urge to taste him on my tongue. Another gulp. “W-what do you want to talk about?”

“Do you care for me, Fleur?”

Fidgeting, I chew on my lip, heart galloping in my chest. “More than you know.”

There, I said it. Laid it out on the table for him to do with it what he pleases. I never planned on this, especially not in this situation, but I won’t be afraid. If there’s anyone I want to risk a broken heart on, it’s Liam.

His hand finds my thigh and slides up, up, up until he’s hooked his deft finger through my belt loop. He’s so close, I’m able to map out the gold specks in his sea green eyes. I follow the lines from them down to the scruff of his chin, memorizing the outline of his face.

I need him and it’s crushing how deeply I’ve fallen for this man.

Breathing is impossible the longer he stares. I need air before I’m going to pass out. Scrambling, I fly off my seat, and push past Liam to bolt for the door.

“Fleur,” Liam demands.

The stool groans behind me, but I avoid turning around. Two steps from the door, a hulking figure in his leathers steps in front of me, blocking the crisp air outside. I practically whine in protest.

“I need to go—“ I start, but I’m cut off by the massive bald head shaking at me.

“Cole. Move.” Liam’s voice booms behind me, and I flinch as the man named Cole moves from the door. Without hesitation, I push the door wide, letting it bang into the side of the building with a loud thud.

“Fleur.” Liam tries again, but I press on, finding the thin strip of brick alleyway between two neighboring buildings, both of which look closed for the night. Streetlights illuminate the light fog settling over the area, and I inhale the rich air like I’m drowning.

Stumbling, I kick a fallen brick, nearly tripping, but a large hand envelops my elbow, keeping me upright.

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