Page 118 of Cruel When He Smiles
I stop pacing, staring at the floor like it’s got answers. “Now, I don’t want anyone else to even look at him.”
Killian’s quiet for a beat, then says, “You don’t just want to own him, do you?” he says, angling his head as he continues to study me. “You care.”
I flinch and he immediately glares at me.
“Stop that,” he snaps. “You care. It doesn’t make you weak.”
“It makes me vulnerable.”
“Yeah, it does,” he agrees. “But he’s the first one who’s ever made you feel anything you couldn’t control. That’s not a threat, Liam. That’s the point.”
Killian’s expression changes then; the amusement fades, the teasing edge dulls, then he straightens and steps forward. “How did he do this to you?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I admit, my voice cracking at the edge. “He got under my skin, and now I can’t get him out. I breathe him, I dream about him, and I don’t even want anyone else. I can’t think straight unless I know where he is.”
Killian stares at me, hard. “You’re in love with him.”
I recoil. “No. Don’t—don’t say that shit.”
“Liam—”
“No!” I shout, my throat raw. “Don’t reduce this tothat. It’s not love. It’s not sweet or soft, it’s violent. It’s a fucking need that eats me alive.”
Killian doesn’t flinch. “You think I don’t know what that is?” I look away and he steps closer. “You remember what I told you when we got our tattoos?”
I close my eyes. “You told me love wasn’t something people like us get.”
Killian nods. “Exactly. We weren’t made for it, not the way other people were. But I’ve learned there’s a version of it that does exist for us. The feral kind. The obsessive kind. The kind that looks like possession.”
I shake my head, but he’s not done.
“You’re not spiraling because you care,” he says. “You’re spiraling because you don’t know how tohandlecaring.”
I say nothing, and he steps right into my space, then grips the back of my neck and pulls our foreheads together, like he used to do when I was younger and scared and too fucked up to admit I was. “You’re not weak for feeling this,” he says quietly. “You’re just not used to it. And the reason it’s killing you is because he’s the first thing you haven’t been able to control.”
I close my eyes and listen to his breathing, trying to ground myself in the constant in and out.
“Do you want him?” Killian asks.
I answer with an immediate, “Yes.”
“Then take him.”
“It’s not that simple,” I laugh, bitter and broken. “He’s the only person, besides you, who looks at me and doesn’t flinch or run away.”
Killian smirks. “Then hang onto him before he learns how.”
I lean back and look at him then, really look. Killian, who taught me how to survive. Killian, who sharpened my edges and told me how to use them. Killian, who’s the only reason I’m still standing.
He’s telling me it’s okay to feel this way.
“You’re not gonna talk me down next time,” I say.
He shrugs. “Then I’ll break your ribs instead of your fingers.”
I sigh and let myself fall onto the bed, exhaling. Killian sits across from me, arms crossed, eyes still on mine.
“You feel too much, Liam,” he says. “You always have. You just buried it under control. But now?”
