My eyes dart to Breckin, and his jaw is tense, knowing who has me in his arms.
“Thanks for keeping my girl company. Now, kindly fuck off.”
Liam says it with such a neutral tone, giving only a slight hint of venom behind it. He knows Breckin is the heir’s right-hand man. There’s no way he wouldn’t. I’m the only secret within my dad’s business.
With a few glances between Liam and me, Breckin storms off into the crowd, likely to find Donovan and get them out of dodge. I know I’m stuck here and have to find my own way home now.
“Do you fucking know who that was?” Liam’s tone is low and dangerous.
He’s vibrating with anger. I know it’s because I’ve ghosted him these last few weeks, and now he’s found me getting dry-humped by an overgrown thug on the dancefloor.
My ass presses back and pushes him away from me. I quickly make my way through the crowd toward the lady’s room. There’s a blonde opening the door, but before she can enter the bathroom and lock herself in, I snatch her by the hair and shove her to the ground.
Blondie’s friends cuss at me while their uncoordinated bodies try to help their friend off the floor. I brush past them and lock the door behind me.
When not influenced by alcohol, the emotions I feel are enough to send me into a fit, but when I barely have a grip on reality, I’m ready to start a massacre. My palms flatten on the counter, trying to regain my balance after dashing away.
When the room finally stops spinning, I raise my head and glance in the mirror. I see Liam standing behind me, tucking a card back into his wallet. The pounding of my heartbeat in my eardrums must have blocked out the noises of his break-in.
“Did you think I wouldn’t follow you in here?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, tension set in his jaw.
The normal spark I’m used to seeing in Liam’s eyes is dulled, his hair’s mussed, and it looks like his clothes were lazily thrown together. I try to focus on everything but his face, everything but how he’s looking at me. I don’t understand the roiling emotions I’m feeling, but I know I don’t like them.
There’s a harsh edge to the way he watches me I saw once before, on that night at Limbo, when the darkness overpowered the purity inside him. He let the monster out to play then, and now he’s front and center again, looking at me through the mirror.
“Maybe I wanted you to,” I lie.
The way his body stiffens at my fake confession pulls a snicker from my chest, but there’s no real mirth behind it. Honestly, my joke of a life is becoming quite comical. The asshole behind me is the butt of that joke.
I watch as he slowly stalks toward me, his body moving like a predator before he jerks me against him and curls his hand around my throat. Yet I feel safer with him than I did with Breckin catering to the alcoholism I’ve developed.
“You’ve been ignoring me, and now you’re trying to fuck your way into a murderer’s house? Breckin Reynolds would chew you up and spit you out, Mila.”
The laugh I swallow burns against the pressure of Liam’s hand around my throat.
My hands are covered in more blood than Breckin’s, and the giant wishes he had that much power over me. Normal people who know my brother and his best friend would run the other way. They’re brutal and ruthless in their own way, but I still see them as the puppies they are.
“My hero,” I spit.
Liam hums as he rubs his free hand along my body, starting at my thigh and slowly making his way up to my breast. He settles his palm and gives a slight squeeze, his breath tickling the sensitive skin at the crook of my neck.
“Your body is always so responsive to mine,” he whispers, brushing his lips against me as he speaks. “What are you scared of, Little Warrior?”
Liam releases my tit and runs his hand down my stomach, thumbing at the button on my pants.
“I’m not scared of shit.”
I force the words through my teeth, and I don’t miss the flash of fury in his eyes. But that piece of me that wants to bring out the darkness in him outweighs the part that wants to keep him safe.
“Maybe I’m just not that into you.”
The hand Liam has around my throat snaps up and wraps around my hair, tugging my head to the side. My core fills with heat that pools between my thighs. A whimper escapes my mouth, which I would rather him mistake for fear or pain than how much I want to feel his cock inside of me.
His grip doesn’t waver, telling me Liam understands the deceit in my words. The only thing I fear is the way I crumble under his hold. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to fight or hide it; he knows what he does to me.
Liam drags his nose along the column of my neck, unbuttoning my pants and delving his hand over my mound. His middle finger slips through my folds, and a low rumble of approval vibrates in his chest. My hips buck forward, chasing the friction he so easily gives me.
“You’re scared of me and how I make you feel.”