When he turned, facing me, I saw the full picture.
Scarred. Damaged. Disfigured.
That stormy blue gaze watched mine.
After drinking in the carnage, I lifted my eyes to meet his. Liam had been badly, horrifically burned. But the beauty lingered in the carnage. The rest of him? He was strong, unbreakable. The runes that were inked into his skin told a story I very much wanted to know.
But his face…. The bitter agony was etched into every muscle.
I hoped he saw how much I wanted him. If he wasn’t here, naked in front of this pagan horde, I would have jumped him. I was so fucking hungry for that body. I ached for it to be pressed to mine.
Even if I didn’t deserve it.
Liam turned away, a hard, unyielding look in his eyes.
I let out a long breath. I was basically lying by not telling him my most recent sin. He would have every right to kill me if he found out I was the reason his father was dead. And maybe it was selfish of me to keep the truth from him. He did deserve to know my father was his enemy. But I didn’t want to leave this life—I didn’t want to be separated from Luca.
Damn me if you must, monster.
I would keep my secrets if it meant I got to live.
The bonfire snapped and hissed as some timbers of wood collapsed in on themselves. Sparks climbed into the dark, trying to escape whatever was to come. The Irish stood in a loose circle, faces stripped of expression. No one joked. No one moved. The silence made me wonder if they dared to breathe.
Liam stepped to the edge of the flames. Unarmed, it would be a mistake to think his formidable body wasn’t ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
The firelight took him apart piece by piece. Skin gleamed, his pale left side contrasting the red, gnarled expanse of his right. Firelight rolled over him, turning skin bronze and crimson, carving shadows into muscle and bone. Whatever ritual was taking place, it stripped the man down to what the earth had a right to judge. Power with nothing to hide behind.
And Liam had power in spades.
The circle of stones was drenched with it.
Liam knelt and pressed both hands into the dirt at the edge of the fire. Slow. Intentional. He dragged the earth up his chest, over his shoulders, smeared ash across his throat and jaw. The soot streaked his skin unevenly, caught in the sweat already forming. He breathed it in. Smoke clung to him, coiling close, like it recognized the rite of passage.
Then one of the soldiers stepped forward.
The doctor, the one who’d been at dinner the other night. His red beard matched the flames as he stopped beside Liam, extending his hand.
A blade caught in the light.
The knife was simple. No ornament. Bone handle. Short blade darkened with age. The doctor didn’t hesitate. He sliced across the boss’s palm, clean and deliberate. Blood welled immediately, bright and shocking against the ash. It dripped onto the dirt. A few beads hissed when tongues of flame licked them.
I wanted to scream.
This didn’t feelright.A good Roman Catholic girl shouldn’t condone the ancient, primal scene, but I was powerless to stop it. Interrupting felt more sacrilegious than cursing during mass. I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay put.
Liam lifted his bleeding hand and pressed it to his chest, smearing blood into the ash until it turned black and slick. He did it again, slower this time, dragging the wound across his sternum, his ribs, and his throat. Blood and earth. The twin elements sealed by the moonlight.
Words followed. Low. Rhythmic. Spoken in something older than any of us. The cadence made my skin crawl.
Liam repeated them without being prompted, voice rough, steady. I didn’t have to know what they meant to feel the implication in my very bones. An oath, though not the kind you broke without consequence. He swore himself to the land, to the fire, to the bloodline he was about to lead. He swore to carry violence when needed and judgment always. He swore to accept what would come for him because he accepted the crown tonight.
When Liam finished, he stood.
Blood ran down his wrist. Ash streaked his body. His eyes lifted and locked on the fire, unblinking. There was no cheering or applause. Just the bonfire, which roared higher, as if satisfied.
I had the distinct, unwanted feeling that something old had just been fed.
Turning, Liam walked toward me.
