Cry Wolf

Chapter Twenty-Two - The Return

The Return

Abigail's POV

The sound of the piano wakes me from a restless sleep.

Getting up I tug down my t-shirt - or rather Liam's t-shirt - and amble groggily out of his bedroom and to the music room. The music is different than usual. Sad. Soft. And utterly beautiful. I wonder what type of mood Jin must be in to play in such a way.

Walking down the halls I rub the sleep from my eyes and try not to bump into anything. When I reach the music room I let my eyes adjust to the darkness - and stop dead in the doorway.

The nearly full moon shines through the high windows, casting dark shadows over the man playing piano. It's not Jin. It's Liam.

I should have known. I can feel him. His very presence fills that empty void I've become far too familiar with.

My eyes take him in slowly. His head is bowed, his gaze concentrating on the piano keys as he plays effortlessly. He's shirtless, and I've never seen him without a shirt before.

Dear god, his body!

Liam's strong back is riddled with scars, some deep straight gashes that look like claw marks, other's jagged and broken. His biceps and forearms are scarred as well, the marks crisscrossing their way down his limbs. I can't imagine how he suffered so many injuries, but I find his scars fascinating. Even arousing.

I have a strong urge to run to him and my body literally begins to shake. Instead, I take a cautious step back, intending to leave before he notices me. But he stops playing, his voice cutting through the moon lit room, "I know you're there, Abby."

Just like the first time I caught Jin playing I feel as if I've trespassed on something private. "I'm sorry. I thought you were Jin."

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine across the room. His blue gaze pierces through me like a spear and my heart hammers in response. God, I've missed him. I shouldn't have, but I did. So. Damn. Much.

Smirking, Liam says, "Who do you think taught him how to play?"

"I didn't know that," I respond stupidly.

His eyes dip over my body slowly, all the way to the tips of my toes. "Were you sleeping in my shirt?" he asks, his smooth voice turning rough.

Crap! I forgot. Tugging on the hem of his shirt I shrug. "My laundry was in the dryer."

His eyes slide over me again, lighting up in the darkness. "It looks good on you."

Damn it. Why did he have to look at me like that? There's so much intensity in just his eyes alone. My body reacts to him instantly. I should be yelling at him for leaving me for so long, not getting turned on.

Suddenly, I remember just how furious I am with him. "I don't look like a child?" I ask harshly.

He scowls deeply, and I brace myself for his wrath. But instead he replies softly, "No. You don't."

"Oh..." I stand there dumbfounded. I wasn't expecting that response.

"Come here," he says gruffly. It's an order, but his tone isn't angry or demanding. My feet move all on their own. Liam reaches for me when I'm close enough, pulling me onto his lap. His arms wrap around my waist, hugging me tight.  All my loneliness - all my pain - it disappears the moment our bodies connect. I squeeze my eyes shut, my own arms encircling Liam's neck and holding on for dear life.

Dipping his head against my neck he rubs his cheek over my mark, pressing me tighter and tighter against his body as if he can't get me close enough. "Fuck, I missed you," he groans against my skin.