Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“We’re so terrible at being brothers,” he said with a chuckle. His voice sounded strange, almost slurred, as if he were drunk.
“We are,” Anthony said with a sigh.
Frowning, Liam forced his eyes open and peered up at him.
Anthony was staring at the ceiling, his handsome face closed off. Almost grim.
“What’s wrong?” Liam mumbled.
Anthony looked back at him, his expression softening as he gazed at Liam’s face. He brushed his thumb against Liam’s cheek and his jaw seemed to tighten when Liam leaned into the touch. “I don’t want you to hate me.”
Liam turned his head and nuzzled into Anthony’s hand.
The look on Anthony’s face was strange: there was something almost greedy in his eyes but there was something like regret, too. It was odd.
“It’s odd,” Liam murmured.
“What is, sweetheart?”
Liam smiled at him, feeling warm. He liked the endearment. He liked all the endearments Anthony used on him sometimes. Sweetheart. Baby. Kitten. Darling. He liked being Anthony’s darling the most. Being dear to him.
“You. You’re odd. I’m not sure what to make of you sometimes.”
Anthony snorted, but he seemed to be laughing with Liam rather than at him. “You’re practically high right now. I’m not sure you can be the judge of my oddness.”
“Am not high,” Liam said.
The amused smile Anthony gave him made Liam want to kiss him. Badly. Unfortunately, he’d have to move to do it and he didn’t really feel like moving.
Huh. Come to think of it, maybe Anthony was right.
“I like when you smile at me,” Liam said, looking at Anthony’s lips. “You don’t smile at me often lately.”
Anthony’s lips stopped smiling. His throat moved.
As their eyes met, a pang of sadness penetrated the happy-right-wonderful fog in Liam’s mind.
Anthony’s hand stroked his bare back, strong but achingly gentle.
It made Liam’s eyes sting.
He murmured, barely audibly, “I miss you so much.”
Anthony’s hand went still.
“It’s so unfair,” Liam whispered, closing his eyes. “I wish you weren’t my brother. I wish… I wish I could stop loving you.”
Anthony didn’t say anything. But was there anything to say, really? It was what it was.
Liam didn’t even noticing drifting off.
Chapter 17
He tucked the covers carefully around Liam and eased off the edge of the bed.
Then he stood there, watching Liam’s dark gold eyelashes flutter slightly against his pale skin as he slept. There was some color to Liam’s cheeks after the sex, but it did little to hide how tired and small he looked. He was such a dainty little thing, all eyes, full pink lips, and soft graceful hands.
Fuck, he was so… Liam pushed his protective buttons like nothing ever had, making him want to kiss him gently from head to toe. He calmed something deep inside of him, gave him peace. But at the same time, Liam made him itch to dirty him up, ruin that perfection with his greedy hands, leave bruises and marks all over him, sink his teeth into his mating gland—
Cutting off that train of thought, he stepped back.
As if sensing it, Liam shifted in his sleep, his brows furrowing endearingly.
I miss you so much, Liam’s soft voice sounded in his ears again. I wish I could stop loving you.
The words had been like a blow to his gut. He had never wanted to hurt Liam, but selfishly, he had wanted Liam to miss him; he couldn’t deny it. The conversation with Jules might have made him remember about things like decency and shame and forced him to do the right thing and avoid Liam in the past few weeks, but it had done nothing to quash his instincts. To quash the want, the pull he felt toward Liam. It didn’t stop him from wanting to kill the Earl of Terlaine as he courted his omega. He might have agreed to Terlaine’s suit, but the truth was, he hadn’t wanted Liam to accept it. He was glad Liam missed him. He was glad Liam loved him. He was fucking delighted. And it made him feel like a right asshole.
Liam made an unhappy sound in his sleep, his scent tinging with discontent.
It was a struggle to stay still, to rein in his protective instincts. He wanted nothing more than to get into the bed and wrap his arms around his omega. Hold him, soothe him, promise him that everything would be all right.
No.
It would bring just fleeting comfort. It might put gauze on the wound, but it wouldn’t stop the bleeding. Liam was unhappy. Their supposedly incestuous relationship was tearing him apart. Jules was right: Liam deserved better. He deserved to know the truth.
He just needed to find out what that truth was.
When Liam had said that he wished they weren’t brothers, he barely stopped himself from telling him that they weren’t actually related. But how could he, when he wasn’t absolutely certain of that himself? He couldn’t get Liam’s hopes up only for them to be crushed if he was wrong. Besides, even if he was correct and he wasn’t Anthony Blake, there was no guarantee that he could offer Liam anything. He didn’t know who he was. He could be no one, a common soldier, without a drop of blue blood.