Page 72 of Liar Byrd
“What will you do?”
His eyes turn hooded. “Something a girl like you shouldn’t know.”
He gently lifts me into his arms as if I’m made of glass, carries me to the den—my bedroom these past few days—and helps me get into bed, pulling the sheets over me.
He turns to leave, but I grip his wrist, holding on. “Wait.”
He raises his eyebrow, confused.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I thought hell had emptied of devils and they were all here. Then I met you.”
He grasps my wrist and presses a hot kiss on the center of my palm, holding my gaze. Then he bends his head, his eyes never leaving mine. The kiss he places against my lips is so soft, so sweet, I want to cry from how beautiful it is. “You sleep now, okay? No one will ever hurt you again.”
He combs his fingers through my hair, his touch soothing and relaxing, tempting my eyelids to close as I sink into the bed.
He whispers into my ear, “Good night, sweet Byrdie. You’ll always be safe with me.”
I’m drifting when I feel the comforter pulled up higher to my neck, a whisper of a kiss against my forehead, and then nothing more.
Chapter 24
Vonn
Apale, slender back almost black with bruises.
A shy, rusty smile and the sweetest kiss that would bring a man to his knees.
And a pleasure so sharp it’s painful.
Byrdie.
She hasn’t just trusted me with herself; she has trusted me with her name, and I will do anything to protect it and her.
Anything.
I quietly close her door and lean against the doorframe for a moment.
It’s been way too fucking long since I was the man I was before war after war tainted my hands red with blood. Years after I finally came home, my hands still feel sticky. I thought I would never find a moment’s peace from the death and the nightmares.
Then I found her.
Somehow, I’ve convinced her to trust me when she couldn’t have made it any clearer that she doesn’t trust any man.
And I had her in my lap. I had her moaning as she pressed herself against my cock. I have never been so hard in my life, and I still am.
I want to slip into that daybed beside her, nudge her sweet thighs apart, and slide myself deep.
But that isn’t what she needs.
Byrdie needs peace. She needs a sanctuary. Only when she’s healed, safe, happy, and content will I take things further.
A soft squeak pulls my gaze from her door.
Nash.
He stands outside the music room, hands stuffed in his pockets.
Voice low, he says, “Makhi told me what happened.”
