Page 131 of Dead Vengeance

And if what we saw isn’t real, the truth could be a whole lot darker.

What if his brother really was a bad guy? What if his soul is somewhere else, suffering in eternal damnation? What if I get a fix on him, and Liam hears, or worse yet, sees the suffering his brother’s been damned to endure?

Or what if…

What if he’s not even dead? What if he’s just holed up somewhere, smacked out, having forgotten all about Liam and his mother?

There are so many possibilities, and I’m terrified of breaking Liam’s heart with any of them. I’m terrified of putting a single chip in that armour he carries everywhere. Because I can see it’s old and worn. He needs a break. He needs to be wrapped up, refreshed, held until he can grow a new shell, better than before. Hopefully, with me there to protect him.

But I throw cushions down either side of the table, regardless, take my place opposite Liam and ask, “Are you sure you want to be here for this? I can do it alone and report back.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” His tone is disconcerting. It’s like I’ve just asked him to Christmas dinner. All excitement and wonder. He has complete faith in this. In me. And I feel like I have to give that back to him—have faith he knows what’s best for him.

So we take our places, and I reassert my grip on his hands. “Close your eyes.” He does. I close mine, then channel the energy up from deep within me. Blue. Bright. Like sapphire fire. From the pit of my stomach, up and up, into my chest, burning through my lungs, and out to every extremity. Down my arms, and into my hands and—

“Ouch!” Liam rips his hands away, staring down at them. Then up at me, looking like I’ve just slapped him. “What was that?”

“That’s…” I have absolutely no idea. “You felt that?”

“Yeah, I felt that,” he exclaims, studying his hands, which don’t look damaged, but mine never do either. “What was it?”

“You felt that?” I repeat, sheer disbelief countering common sense.

“Yeah! I did. Is that…?”

“You shouldn’t be able to feel that.”

“Well, I felt that.”

“But…” What the hell is going on between us? “Okay, I don’t know if we can carry on.”

He snatches my hands back up. “Of course we can carry on. What are you talking about?”

“Well, I… I don’t think a normal person would… I don’t know if you should feel that. I don’t think you should.”

He gives me a vague shrug. “Does it get worse than that?”

“No, but—”

“Fine then. I can handle it.” He pulls my hands in closer as if trying to prove his point.

I pull mine back. “Not fine then,” I try to argue.

“It’s fine.” He nods sharply, wrenches my hands in even tighter, then, as if it’s at all the same thing, he throws out, “I was great with the sex magic.”

“But this isn’t— That’s—” I swear my temperature just rose at least two degrees. “C-could you please not call it that?”

“What? Sex magic?” He grins across at me, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand provocatively.

“Could you behave? We’ll end up calling up an incubus or something with that sort of energy in the room.”

“Oh. Are incubuses real?” He waggles both eyebrows at me, flaring a soft spark of jealousy in my chest.

“Not as far as you’re concerned,” I mutter.

I get a laugh for my ire, then Liam sitting up straight, eyes closed again, like a perfect student, even if the smile remains goading on his lips.

I’d much rather sit here and stare at him, but the curse of the necromancer calls.