Page 100 of Debt of My Soul

He scoots forward to bring a hand up to my cheek, and I lean into it, nearly nuzzling him. The few inches of tub and lukewarm water sperate us. I hate it.

Liam’s thumb feathers over several of the scratches across my cheek and over the cut on my bottom lip. His gaze shootsdown into the water, but it’s not in a direction that would heat my blood. No. It’s on my wrist, where I fiddle with the rubber bands.

“Who?” he asks.

“What?”

“Who, at some point, made you feel unworthy, Fleur?” His tone is serious, but he keeps focused on my wrist. Embarrassment heats my cheeks as he peels back the layers I’ve stacked there.

“It’s nothing. I?—”

“Don’t,” he responds. “Don’t spin a story. I need to know so I can fix it.”

My heart gallops, but I draw my hand out of the water, inspecting the fresh welts I snapped when I got back to the cabin.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I’d done it once or twice throughout my teen years, but it got worse when … when the man I’d loved for nine years cheated on me in our shower, in our home.” Liam’s face blurs from my welling tears. A small sob rips from me as the pain from that awful day resurfaces.

Liam doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move. The soft look in his eyes prompts me to continue. “I came home and found them in the shower. I panicked and ran out of the house. Didn’t even look back. At times I wish … I wish I’d busted through the door and confronted him. The fact I could’ve embarrassed him like he did me … when I heard them …” More tears rip down my cheeks.

“Fleur …”

I keep going before he can pity me. “I felt out of control. Nine years spent devoted to Chris—who knows how long it was going on during all the time I was loyal to him. So, I ran away, to a remote place I could feel in control again.

“These”—I motion to the bands on my wrist—“the pain grounds me, makes me feel more in control. It’s twisted andweird, but when my anxiety feels unmanageable, this brings me that element back.I’min charge of my pain. No one else. My trust was lost that day, and I realized how naive I was. Insignificant. Worthless enough for my partner to give up but not have the decency to tell me before he moved on.”

I glance up. Now I’m spewing my random baggage at Liam, and it’s probably more than he bargained for when he asked.

Rage fumes in Liam’s stare and I make a quick effort to shrink back in the water, but I’m stopped short as he grabs my wrist.

Turning it over, he traces the welts and brand with his fingers, drawing circles that tickle with each brush. But then … then he tugs my wrist to his mouth. He grazes his lips over the sensitive area, and my whole body jolts with a shiver.

He reaches behind him, into his jeans, and pulls out a knife. I jerk back, trying to snatch my wrist away, but he holds tight.

“You say you can’t trust anyone, but I know you trust me. Youcantrust me, Fleur.”

My breath catches and my heart pounds in my chest as he tilts the tip of his knife at my wrist, sliding the blade beneath the two bands.

“You want pain, Fleur? To feel something? You come to me. I’ll give you whatever you need.” In one flick upward, the bands sever from my wrist and fall into the tub. After he tucks the blade away, he reaches in and scoops out the remnants of rubber, grazing the top of my thigh as he does.

My tears have stopped dead in utter shock.

Liam stands, then bends down to kiss the top of my head before he exits the bathroom.

I’m left with lightness in my chest and throbbing in my core.

I wake in a cold sweat. Out the window, it’s still pitch-black night, and I sigh, pulling Liam’s cover back up over me. Or at least I try to. It’s stuck on something. I yank until a massive form next to me moves and I yelp.

Liam startles up, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry. I can’t do that couch. I’m so sore.”

I smile, but it’s lost in the darkness of the room. Reaching over, I turn on the nightstand lamp and sit up to see a shirtless Liam buried beneath the top quilt.

He turns to me and lifts a hand to his forehead to block out the light. Immediately, I’m drawn to the black smudges on his fingers, and I smirk, remembering the sketches I came across earlier. His eyes snag on the corner of my mouth, alight with a playful side I’ve never seen.

“What?” he asks.

“Your hand. It has black on it.”

He snatches it down and shakes it out as if he could fling the dust off. “Uh, yeah. It’ll come off.”

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