Page 66 of Cruel When He Smiles (Sinners of Blackthorne U #3)

Nate

Suddenly, my chest feels too tight.

Initially, I don’t say anything. I’m trying to piece everything together without looking like a complete idiot, but the thought is already there, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

Matching tattoos. Matching tattoos that aren’t small, discreet bullshit, but big enough to make a statement.

A statement you make when you belong to someone.

Sage and I have tattoos on the same side of our bodies, we got them done at the same place, at the same time.

An animal we associate with, covered in roses and ivy.

Something to show our brotherhood. A snake and a panther.

The image of Killian leaning against the door frame, watching me that day outside Liam’s room, pushes in uninvited. How he never says much around me but somehow makes it feel like he’s dissecting every move I make.

I’m probably being ridiculous. But then another part of me—the part that’s always waiting for Liam to pull the rug out—starts whispering that maybe I’m not.

“You gonna keep staring at my back or…?” Liam’s voice pulls me out of my head, and when he glances over his shoulder at me, there’s a smirk there, but it’s thin. His eyes aren’t amused.

I almost play dumb, but the words are already bubbling up. “That tattoo… it’s the same one Killian has.”

He turns fully, one brow raised, and for a second, he just studies me. “And?”

I laugh under my breath, but it’s bitter. “And I’m wondering why the hell you and Killian have matching ink. What exactly am I missing here?”

The edge in my voice must register, because his expression flattens into something that resembles the Liam I know. “You think it’s romantic?”

“I think it’s suspicious,” I shoot back. “You don’t strike me as the matching tattoo type. And, I don’t know, I’ve seen the way Killian looks at you, and he’s super protective of you. It’s too close for it to just be casual.”

His mouth curves—not in a smile, but in this slow, knowing smirk like he’s half amused, half insulted. “You really think I’d get something like this with him for the same reasons you’re imagining?”

“I think you haven’t given me a reason not to think that,” I shrug one shoulder because I don’t trust myself not to sound defensive if I say it outright. “I’ve just never seen you that close to anyone but him. And matching tattoos usually mean something.”

“They do.” He steps toward me slowly until there’s barely a foot between us, and his gaze stays locked on mine. “But not what you’re thinking.”

I cross my arms, partly because I feel stupid for letting my brain run this way and partly because I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever explanation he’s about to give. “Then what does it mean?”

He studies me for a long beat, then exhales like he’s deciding whether to throw me a bone. “It’s not a romantic thing. Killian’s my brother.”

That makes me blink, and my brain literally glitches. “Your brother? ”

“Half-brother,” he corrects. “He’s two months older, and we have different mothers, but the same father. We didn’t know for sure until we were thirteen. My mother kept diaries like trophies. I found out the truth in one of them and told Killian. We’ve been… close ever since.”

Close. That’s one word for it, but the way he says it has weight.

He looks up at me, and for once, there’s no manipulation in his face, just the kind of blunt honesty that feels heavier than any lie could. “Killian’s father is the reason I exist because he raped my mother—his cousin’s wife.”

The confession makes my stomach turn for him, and I frown, trying to line up what I know with what he’s telling me now. “So, the tattoo?”

“We got it when we were seventeen. The day before my parents’ funeral.” His tone doesn’t change when he says it, but there’s something in the way his eyes go darker. “Behind his ear for him, down my spine for me. It’s a promise.”

I let that sink in for a second, but curiosity keeps pushing. “A promise for what?”

Liam’s jaw works as he watches me. “Loyalty, no matter what.”

It sounds simple, but his tone makes it anything but. “You’ve never told me about him like this before.”

“You’ve never asked without already being pissed off at me,” he says evenly, and yeah, okay, maybe he has a point.

Still, I don’t let him off that easily. “So, this loyalty… what does that actually look like for you two?”

A corner of his mouth lifts, but it’s humorless.

“It looks like him keeping me alive more times than I can count. Talking me down when I’ve had a blade or a gun in my hand and too many reasons to use it.

Pulling me out when I’ve gone too far in my head.

Making sure no one else got the chance to put me in the ground. ”

That’s… a lot.

“And for him?” I ask quietly.

Liam’s gaze doesn’t waver. “For him, it’s me keeping him from killing our father before we were ready.

Talking him down from his own shit when it gets too close to boiling over.

Making sure he doesn’t end up in a cell or worse when his temper takes over.

He’s the only person I’ll never cross, Nate.

Because he’s the only one who’s never crossed me. ”

I stare at him, the pieces rearranging in my head. This isn’t just family. It’s not even just loyalty. It’s mutual survival in its purest form.

“Sounds… intense,” I say finally, because I don’t know how else to summarize what he’s just laid out.

“It is,” he says simply, like there’s no point pretending otherwise. “We came from the same rot, and we both learned early that nobody was coming to save us. So, we saved each other. We still do.”

There’s a part of me that wants to push more, to ask about the funeral, about the kind of shit that would make them both swear their lives to each other in ink at seventeen. But I can tell from the set of his jaw that this is as much as I’m going to get right now.

I think about the tattoo again, running my tongue along the inside of my cheek. “Guess that explains why he looked at me like he’s trying to decide if I’m worth not killing.”

Liam’s mouth curves slightly. “That’s because he is. Killian doesn’t trust easily, and you’re… complicated.”

“Complicated?” I raise a brow. “That your nice way of saying I’m a pain in the ass?”

He actually lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and quick. “You’re both.”

I can’t help smirking at that, even though part of me is still chewing on everything he just said. “So, you’re saying if I piss him off too much, he might actually make good on those looks?”

“Not if I tell him not to.”

“And you would?” I tilt my head, watching him.

His eyes stay locked on mine. “Every time.”

There’s something in the way he says it that pushes down the last of the stupid spiral I’d been working myself into. “You could’ve just said that,” I tell him after a moment, my tone a little lighter now.

“You wouldn’t have believed me without the details,” he says. “And I’m not in the habit of giving those unless someone earns them.”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “You make everything sound like a test.”

“Everything is a test,” he says, smirking faintly. “And you’re doing better than most.”

I let the silence stretch again, then I can’t help but pout. “Still not sure how I feel about you both having matching tattoos.”

His smirk sharpens. “You jealous?”

“I was, yeah. Thought maybe there was more to it than you were saying.”

“Would it matter if there was?” he asks, his voice dropping.

“It would’ve,” I admit. “But now… I get it now. And besides, my birthday is September 13th, so there’s another reason for you to love the number.”

He tilts his head, studying me for a long moment before speaking again.

“Hmmm, guess thirteen is indeed my lucky number,” he says without missing a beat.

Then, leaning forward slightly, his eyes catch mine with that soft dominance he uses when he wants something from me.

“Now, stop thinking about Killian and focus on me.”

I raise a brow, but he’s already smirking again, and I realize that as much as I’d been spiraling five minutes ago, he’s already pulled me out of it without me noticing.

And I hate how easily he can do that.