“What is-”
Cormac generously spritzes me with cleaning fluid.
“Eww, why did you do that?” I snarl, trying to get the godawful taste off my tongue.
“You’re been cleaning gym mats all afternoon, remember?” He winks at me and I seethe as he guides me out of the cottage.
Chapter Twenty-One
In which Liam proves he’s the best storyteller on campus.
Mala…
I make it back to my room after rolling my eyes at many annoying comments about smelling like window cleaner, even from Willow, the heartless cow. Heading for my shower, I strip my anti-bacterial spray-drenched clothes off and step under the hot water, sighing in relief.
Then, I’m sobbing like my heart is being torn out. All these things I’ve done with Cormac, what has happened to me? I’ll do anything he wants because he makes me feel beautiful and cherished. I want to feel good so badly. Ever since I lost Michael, my twin, my other half, that sliver of glass is my heart sat there, cutting and cutting until I couldn’t feel much of anything. I’ve never felt like this, and I almost don’t recognize myself, this happy person.
This should be terrifying me, I should be running from Cormac and everything we’ve done. But I’m so far gone. This giant, strong, powerful man has taken me to a beautiful place of lightand sex, warmth and safety. I don’t belong there and I should never have let myself relax into it.
It hit me tonight when he said those words, “No other man will have the honor of knowing what your pussy feels like. Only me. It belongs to me.”
I wanted to live these last two years at the Academy to the fullest, with enough good memories and connections to last me for the lifetime of loveless duty that’s waiting for me. But not this.
Whether Cormac meant those words or spoke them in the heat of the moment, I have no right to hear them.
Not from a man I don’t belong to. Not from a man that I can never have.
The next morning…
“Oy! Mala!”
“Hey, Liam, how are you?” He slings an arm over my shoulders and I try to smile. My eyes are still swollen and raw from crying all night, but that’s what makeup is for. I used to put on my “happy Mala face” so effortlessly…
“You look tired. Were ya’ up all night hurling up cleaning products?”
“It’s not like I drank Windex straight from the bottle you ass! I just cleaned the mats.” Still, my shoulders relax a little. Liam’s always fun to be with, easy. Uncomplicated. Glancing up at him, I frown. “You’re looking like you’re the one who pulled an all-nighter. Or one of your usual ‘drink a bottle of whiskey and wake up in the bed of yet another unsatisfied girl’ scenarios.”
Liam stops us in the middle of the path, almost managing to look wounded. “That’s just mean-spirited, that is.” He smiles devilishly. “You don’t know ‘till ya take a ride.”
“You realize you’ve used this exact line on me like, twice a year since we were freshmen?” I force a little laugh, “I can’t decide if I’m more irritated that you’re keeping it up or offended that you can’t bother to come up with some new material. Really, a son of Ireland using that tired shit?”
He grins, “Ya got any good ones?”
My smile fades as I think about that night, Tatiana, Willow and I sharing terrible pickup lines. If we hadn’t gone there that night… maybe if we’d gone to a club, I would never have met Cormac. Never would have happily given my virginity to him. I wouldn’t feel this flare of agony every time I think of him.
“Never mind, I think ya need some cheerin’ up.” Liam launches into one of his epic tales and no one can deliver a laugh like this man.
“...So my feckin’ uncle - he’s a real geebag - sends me to Vancouver, yeah? Because where else would ya go for heroin than the Great White North? Heroin pure as an angel’s panties, he’s insisting so I’m on a jet headed for feckin’ British Columbia. And mmmm, I can just smell the Canadian bacon and reasonably priced medications!”
“Okay,” I wheeze, massaging my side. Oh, god I needed this today.
“So the head of the cartel, this gowl-”
“Wait, what’s a gowl?”
“Arsehole,” he explains. “He says ‘Oh, sorry. The shipment isn’t coming in until tomorrow, the boat’s been delayed thanks to stepped-up patrols by the feckin’ Canadian Coast Guard.’”
“Meaning these guys are sloppy if the Coast Guard’s already sniffing around,” I agree.
