Page 47 of Cruel When He Smiles
Humming again, he lifts one hand and twirls the lighter between his fingers, eyes gleaming. “So, what’s he done? Flinched just right? Cracked in a way that made you want to keep him? Or is it worse?”
I pace once across the room. Just to move. Just to burn some of the restless energy scratching under my skin. Killian watches me, clicking the lighter open again, watching the flame curl for a second before snapping it shut. “Do you want him?”
My silence is the only answer he needs. He leans forward again, elbows on knees, staring up at me with those cold blue eyes that never blink unless he’s trying to hurt someone. “You care.”
“I don’t care. Iwant.”
“And the difference?”
“I can stop wanting.”
He clicks the lighter once more, and it snaps closed. “Then do it.”
I look at him and see the truth behind the dare. He’s not daring me to stop; he’s daring me to admit I can’t.
He rises in one fluid movement, the lighter still turning over in his hand. The way he moves is never wasted and never soft. There’s menace in the curve of his spine, and how he walks closer without invitation.
“He’s under your skin,” he says quietly. “And I don’t like that you’re letting him get deeper.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did. You never let anyone close unless you’ve already decided how you’re going to break them. But this one’s different; he’s making you spiral.”
“I’m not spiraling,” I say, sharper than I intend.
Killian circles me once, eyes never leaving mine. “You kissed him, didn’t you?” There’s more silence from me, and he exhales through his nose. “You kissed him, and it wasn’t a calculated move; it was something you wanted.”
I close my eyes for half a breath. “It was a mistake.”
“You have King blood, you don’t make mistakes,” he snaps. “You make choices.”
“Well, I chose wrong,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Or you chose real,” he says coldly. “And that scares you more.”
I glare at him while he looks at me impassively. “Back off, Killian.”
“I can’t,” he replies. “Not when it’s you. You know that.”
There’s no anger in his voice, only that unwavering possession—the same brand of violent protectiveness he’s wielded over me since we were thirteen. The same savage loyalty that burns bridges before I can even get close to them. “I don’t need saving this time.”
“I’m not here to save you, I’m here to remind you who the fuck you are.” I don’t flinch, but I feel the words hit. “You’re Liam Callahan. You don’t chase, and you don’t beg. You sure as shit don’t unravel over a pretty boy with eyes that don’t even see the damage under your skin.”
I shake my head and whisper, “He sees more than you think.”
He tilts his head. “You want him to?”
I stare at the floor, then back at him. “I don’t know what I want.”
He laughs once, a quiet and cruel sound. “Yes, you do. You want to hurt him and keep him, but you can’t decide which instinct is stronger.”
Killian backs me up until we’re chest to chest, but I don’t move. We’re matched in height, weight, and ferocity; the only difference is that I’ve always been better at pretending I don’t care. My brother doesn’t bother pretending.
“He gets one chance,” he says, holding up one finger in the same gesture he hates. “One bruise you didn’t put there, one word that leaves you quieter than usual, and I will end him. Slowly.”
I exhale, my muscles tight. “I don’t need you to protect me anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “I will anyway. Because you’re my brother, and I won’t watch you burn yourself down just to feel wanted.”
