Page 56 of Cruel When He Smiles
That makes his eyebrows go even higher since everyone knows we kind of hate each other. For a second, he doesn’t say anything as he looks at me like I’ve told him I want to fight Luca Devereaux with a toothpick.
But then he nods, steps aside, and waves me in. “His room’s upstairs. Last door on the right.”
“Thanks,” I say, and my voice sounds too quiet in the weird silence of the house. The Sin Bin is massive—every hallway lined with expensive finishes and masculine energy practically baked into the wood and glass. Everything in here hums like it belongs to them, and I don’t.
As I start up the stairs, the sound of my footsteps is too loud, and I realize I’ve only been here twice for parties, both times with Sage. Both times avoiding eye contact with everyone who lives here. Tonight, I don’t have Sage. Tonight, it’s just me and the gnawing ache in my chest.
When I hit the top landing, I slow down. The hallway is darker up here, with one long strip of soft lighting running along the wall. Liam’s room is where Adrian said—the last door on the right, but it’s not the door that makes me stop.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I turn my head to find Killian King staring at me.
He’s leaning against the door directly across from Liam’s, one shoulder propped lazily against the frame, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. He’s in gray joggers and a fitted white shirt that does absolutely nothing to make him look less terrifying. If anything, it makes the tension in his forearms stand out more.
He flicks ash off the end of the cigarette and tilts his head to the side. “You lost, Carter?”
His voice is smooth but cold, the kind that makes it hard to tell if it’s a real question or the start of something worse. I recognize the tone—guys like him weaponize civility. I’m not welcome here.
I shake my head once. “No.”
His eyes flick toward Liam’s door, then back to me. “Didn’t realize you two were on friendly terms.”
“We’re not.”
He finally smiles, but it’s not friendly. “Sure, you’re not.”
My stomach twists. I don’t know what this weird, loaded tension is about. I don’t even know Killian outside of him being captain of the hockey team, and the few times I’ve seen him practically maul people in games. But the way he looks at me now isn’t like a stranger. It’s like a handler inspecting a weapon that might go off in his house.
I take a breath and nod toward Liam’s door. “I’m just here to say thank you.”
Killian hums under his breath, tapping the cigarette once more. “Be careful,” he says, and this time the softness in his tone is terrifying. “Liam’s not the kind of guy you thank with words alone.”
My hand freezes inches from the wood.
What the hell do you say to that?Thanks for the warning? I already know?
Instead, I look at him again. Maybe he’s protective, or maybe he’s just curious. Maybe this is his way of sayingback off before you get yourself cut.
I narrow my eyes at him, and his mouth lifts slightly, a tilt of the head like he’s watching a mouse try to bluff its way past a snake. Then, just as suddenly, he turns and walks back into his room, the door clicking softly behind him. I stand there for a moment, my pulse screaming in my ears.
What the fuck was that all about?
Shaking my head at that fucked-up interaction, I look back at Liam’s door and remember why I came.
I lift my hand and knock twice. The sound is louder than I meant it to be, but I don’t flinch. I wait. The door opens slower than I expect, like he’s taking his time on purpose, or like he was standing just beyond it and wanted me to sit in my nerves for a second longer.
Then, there he is.
Liam Callahan in sweats and a white tee, barefoot on the dark wood floor. His skin looks flushed, and when his eyes land on mine, they widen in surprise.
He leans against the doorframe with the kind of casual confidence that makes it feel rehearsed, arms loose at his sides, chest rising in slow, measured breaths. His gaze drags across my face without a word.
It’s unsettling how much he reminds me of Killian—the same posture, same dangerous look in his eye, and that same cold amusement that doesn’t need words to make you feel naked.
I swallow once and clear my throat. “I didn’t know how else to say thank you,” I manage, and it comes out more broken than I intended. My voice cracks slightly on the last word, and I hate how weak I sound.
Liam’s head tilts slightly, and a slow, soft smile curves his lips. “So, you came all the way here?” he murmurs.
I nod once. “Better than a text. Can I come in?”
