Chapter 28 Siobhan
SIOBHAN
“Yes. That scares me.”
The cold metal of the knife ghosts across my shoulder blade, not cutting, just a whisper of what could be. My breath comes in shallow gasps.
“Good,” Liam murmurs against my ear, his voice a dark caress. “Fear means you understand the stakes. Fear means you’re smart enough to know what you’re getting into.”
The blade traces a line down my spine, following the path in reverse that his hand took moments before.
I should be terrified. I should be screaming, fighting, running.
Instead, I’m standing here with my palms pressed to wet tile, my body still thrumming from the orgasm he just wrung out of me, my pussy leaking his cum and letting an O’Neill, my family’s sworn enemy, hold a knife to my naked skin.
“I’m not afraid of you, Liam. I’m afraid of how much I want you.”
The knife stills against my spine. For a heartbeat, the only sound is the rush of water and our ragged breathing. Then Liam’s free hand slides up to wrap around my throat. Not squeezing, just holding, a collar made of flesh and bone.
“Say that again,” he commands, his voice rougher now, stripped of its control.
“I want you.” The words come easier this time, each one a small rebellion against everything my mother taught me, against every warning about O’Neill men and their violence. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. It terrifies me.”
“You’re going to marry me,” he says. Not a question. Not even a request. A statement of fact delivered with the same certainty he uses when he’s pulling a trigger.
My laugh comes out breathless, slightly hysterical. “Is that a proposal or a threat?”
“It’s a promise.” The tip of the knife digs into my skin, and I gasp when he releases my throat. “Say it again.”
His voice is hoarse, and it breaks something profound in my soul. He is as lost as I am, looking for that person to see him.
“I want you, Liam. I choose you.”
“Fuck, Siobhan,” he rasps.
I turn my head slightly to the side so he can see my sincerity. “Mark me. Make me yours.”
The sharp sting blooms down my spine, a line of fire that makes me gasp. It’s not deep, he’s too controlled for that, but it’s enough. Enough to mark. Enough to claim. Enough to bleed. Enough to make this real.
“Mine,” he growls against my neck, his breath hot on my wet skin. He makes another cut. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. The pain is exquisite.
“Yours,” I whisper, the word a surrender and a victory.
“My name is branded onto your skin, Siobhan,” he says, carefully slicing into me again.
I feel the blade trace another line, connecting the cuts. Each stroke is deliberate, measured, a love letter written in pain and possession. The water runs pink at my feet, swirling down the drain along with the last remnants of the woman I used to be.
“Say my name,” Liam demands, his voice raw with need.
“Liam,” I breathe, and the blade moves again. Another cut. Another claim. “Liam O’Neill.”
“That’s right.” His lips brush against the fresh wounds, making me shudder. “And soon it’ll be your name too. Siobhan O’Neill. How does that sound?”
Insane. Reckless. Perfect.
“Like war,” I manage to gasp out as he makes the final cut.
“Good.” He sets the knife on the shower shelf, then his hands are on me, turning me to face him.
His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with possession and something that looks dangerously close to love.
“Because that’s what we are. A war that neither side can win, so we burn the whole fucking world down instead. ”
He reaches for the soap and sponge and starts methodically washing us both. I watch him work, his hands gentle despite what they just did. The cuts on my back sting with each pass of the sponge, a constant reminder of what I’ve agreed to. What I’ve chosen.
He washes my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp with a tenderness that makes my throat tight.
This man, who killed my cousin without hesitation, because I wanted him to.
This man carved his name into my flesh, and now he’s washing my hair like I’m something precious.
I take it all. I close my eyes, and I let him cleanse me before he washes himself.
Moments later, he turns off the shower and wraps me in a towel, patting me dry with extra care over the cuts.
He dries himself quickly and then carries me to the bed, laying me down and parting my legs.
His mouth presses against my pussy, and I arch my back, crying out his name as the cuts on my back pull against the tension.
I gasp his name, my hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue works me masterfully.
“Liam,” I moan, my hips lifting off the bed. “Please.”
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t ease up. His tongue circles my clit with maddening pressure, then slides lower to thrust inside me.
I’m already so sensitive from earlier, from everything, and it takes embarrassingly little time before I’m shattering again, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
He doesn’t give me time to recover. He crawls up my body, his cock already hard again, pressing against me. His eyes lock onto mine, and I see the question there despite all his dominance.
“Yes,” I whisper, answering what he’s too afraid to ask. “Always yes.”
He enters me slowly this time, inch by torturous inch, until he’s buried completely inside me.
“I love you,” he says, the words torn from somewhere deep inside him. “I fucking love you, Siobhan Kelly.”
My breath catches. We’ve spilled blood together, killed together, claimed each other in the most brutal ways possible. But this is the most terrifying thing he’s done yet, because it means I can hurt him. That this brutal, lethal man has handed me the only weapon that could destroy him.
“I love you too,” I say, the words feeling both inevitable and impossible.
He grips my hips and rolls us over so I can take over.
I rotate my hips, riding his cock as my breasts bounce enticingly.
He cups them, squeezing them, pinching my nipples, until I feel another orgasm approaching rapidly.
My pussy is slick with want, sliding over his cock as I ride him harder, chasing that edge, my thighs burning with the effort.
His hands slide from my breasts to my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, guiding my movements as I take him deeper.
“That’s it,” he groans, his eyes locked on where we’re joined. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this. Taking what you need from me.”
I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. The change in angle makes me gasp, hitting something deep inside that sends sparks of pleasure racing up my spine.
The cuts on my back pull and sting with each movement, a constant reminder of his name carved into my flesh.
“Liam,” I pant, my rhythm faltering as the pleasure builds too fast, too intense.
“Come for me, Siobhan. Come on my cock, sweetheart.”
His words push me over the edge. My orgasm rips through me with a devastating force, my pussy clenching around him as I scream. He follows immediately, his hips bucking up as he empties himself inside me again, claiming me in a way no knife ever could.
I collapse onto his chest, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat and still joined. His arms wrap around me carefully, avoiding the fresh wounds on my back. I roll off him and snuggle into his chest, tracing the lines of ink that mark his skin as I fall into my thoughts.
He rests his head on my pillow, pulling me closer and in that moment, I tell him my plan for Connor.
He lets out a loud, genuine guffaw that makes me smile against his skin and asks, “How can I help?”
“I’m glad you asked that, because…”