…but what would Fix do if he did?
He pictured the flame that had appeared in those eyes from the tiny glimpses of his skin earlier and shivered, his breath coming out on a shaky exhale he couldn’t control. Would Fix gather him up in those massive arms and take him? Would he exhale promises of safety and affection into his oversensitive skin?
Liam flinched back from both Fix and his own dangerous thoughts, and King growled at Fix in warning in reaction to Liam’s flinch, planting himself directly between them.
Fix stayed where he was, holding his hands up with his palms toward Liam.
“I’m here to help,” he said, voice quiet and gentle like the one Liam had been using for King. “I want to help, so let me. Tell me how I can do that.”
Liam wrapped his free arm around his waist as he tried to get a hold of himself. “I don’t know what your rates are. I saved some and I think it should cover the scarf…”
“Forget about the rates,” Fix said sternly.
“But—”
“Liam.”
The way he said his name sent a jolt right through him. His cheeks burned at the reaction.
“I’m not letting you stay cursed because of money,” Fix said.
“It’s your job. You don’t work for free.”
“I do what’s best for those around me whenever I can. I’m not taking your money.”
For some reason, that made Liam bristle.
“I’m not a charity project,” he said. “I get by fine and I have money.”
“I never said—” Fix started, but the pride was hard to swallow.
“Just the scarf.” Liam pointed to his room. “It’s on the bed.”
“Liam…”
“No.” Liam shook his head, voice quavering as he struggled to stand firm against Fix. Everything inside him was screaming to just listen and let him do what he wanted, but he couldn’t. Not when it always came back to bite him in the ass. Not when every person who’d made him feel like they’d take care of him had ended up hurting him more.
He’d searched for people to take the burden off his shoulders and take care of him. He’d tried again and again to put his trust in people who didn’t deserve it. Until he just couldn’t anymore. He had learned to take care of himself, and one encounter with someone who appeared gentle and safe under the strength wouldn’t change that.
Fix clearly wanted to argue, but King growled at him again and he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he walked away from Liam and into his bedroom.
Liam leaned against the armrest of his sofa, King pawing at him anxiously as he listened to the sound of rustling.
Fix was in his bedroom. Touching his bed.
Liam caught himself wondering if his scent would linger. If Liam would be able to smell him when he went to bed. Hewanted to. He closed his eyes against the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach and tried to push the desire away.
He didn’t want the cursebreaker.
He couldn’t.
Pale blue light flared from the doorway and Liam’s eyes snapped up to watch as it shifted and shimmered, climbing up his walls and crawling along his floor.
It came with a gentle crackle in the air and a soft whooshing sound that lingered for a moment before it all died down.
King huffed when Fix re-entered the room, the sleeves of his shirt unbuttoned and pushed up to his elbows, revealing a kaleidoscope of tattoos. His arms looked strong, like the rest of him, veins protruding and dark hair hiding the colors of the art on his skin.
Liam swallowed before looking up.
