Be My Shield (Liam Mairi x OC)
Summary: She did not expect to find an ally while waiting to cross the parapet, but she easily accepted his protection…and then offered her own.
This is my submission for @empyreanevents Liam Week- Day 2: Protective. Also this is my first time writing for Fourth Wing and Liam so i hope you like it! I read 'protective' and this is what my brain immediately thought of.
Quick note- in this fic, Liam and Bodhi are the same age and entering the Rider's Quadrant together, which makes Xaden a second year.
Warnings: violence, minor character death (its parapet, y'all)
Words: 5k
The morning dragged by, the burning sun inching across the sky like an archaic form of torture to weed out the weak and unworthy.
Unfortunately, it seemed to be working.
Leyla peeked over the edge of the stone stairs, careful of the lack of railing and the chance of plummeting the two hundred plus steps to the hard ground below. She glanced down at the other foolish recruits standing idly in the long line of those waiting to cross the parapet and hopefully join the Rider's Quadrant. More than once, as the morning transitioned into midday, cries from recruits signaled another potential had fainted as they waited, the unexplainable heatwave taking its toll.
“Can they move any fucking faster? It's fucking hot out here.”
Staring at the stone steps beneath her feet, she allowed the eyeroll at the whining of the man-child standing in front of her. Zinhal was certainly punishing her for her lack of temple worship if he stuck her behind this asshat.
“I bet it's those marked ones. I saw a couple ahead of us.” The one in front of the man-child spoke without heed of his loud volume. “Fucking separtists’ kids.”
Biting the inside of her cheek was the only physical indicator of her annoyance Leyla allowed to manifest. Even after all these years, her mother's training of keeping her emotions to herself still wrapped around her like a muzzle.
“Ha! They're all cowards anyway. I'd bet they see the parapet and freeze, too fucking scared to walk it.” The man-child wiped sweat from his brow and his close-cropped hair.
The line up the stairs moved forward two steps then stopped again.
“Maybe I'll help encourage them along.” He chuckled darkly. “They're not technically cadets until they cross the threshold, right?”
“Nothing stopping them from encouraging you to see Malek then.” She muttered, wondering if her eyes would be permanently stuck in the back of her head from rolling them so much at this idiot's statements.
Could he not see the massive target his haughty statements slapped onto his back? Even if most of the Narravians disliked the marked ones for what their parents did, that did not mean those same marked ones would not protect their own. And in a place like this…where murder was basically encouraged…she doubted he would live long if he kept talking like that.
The sudden snort-laugh behind her made her eyes widen and her stomach drop as she realized someone overheard her snarky comment.
The realization solidified when the man-child turned around to stare down at her, a thick jaw clenched reminding her of her old neighbor's bulldog. “Did you say someth–” His words cut off, anger draining away as he finally acknowledged the person standing behind him. In the span of two heartbeats, his entire demeanor predictably shifted. A sleazy smirk drew up one side of his mouth and his dark eyes scanned her body like it was a treat up for auction at the market.
Leyla wisely kept the eyeroll internal this time, yet stiffened her spine at his unwanted attention. Unfortunately she was stuck, unable to escape as they stood high up on the stone stairs, almost to the crowded, open doorway of the turret. Man-child stood in front of her, looming taller as he stood above her, even though she guessed he was only several inches taller than her own average height, but it was his barrel chest and bulky form that reinforced her prior observation of a bulldog. Behind her stood a tall and very attractive blond, that she had briefly said ‘hi’ to when they first stood in line but she kept her focus on her feet, trying to keep her fears and doubts from strangling her. The only other way to escape man-child was to jump from the stairs and that was the last thing she was willing to do. Some asshole with the intelligence of a cracked walnut was not about to influence her future.
He placed a hand on the stone wall between them, bicep flexing against his short sleeve shirt. “Hey, beautiful.”
She stared over his shoulder, her jade green eyes focused on the turret.
“Are you Loial in the flesh because I think I might be falling in love?”
“The line moved.” She deadpanned, still refusing to look at him.
He peered over his shoulder and sure enough, the line had taken two more steps upward while he was distracted. Of course, once he moved up, he turned back to continue his barrage.
“What's your name, beautiful?”
“No.”
“No?”
Ignoring him, she tucked her shoulder-length black hair behind her ear, allowing a moment to mourn her real hair. It was foolish of her to think cutting and dyeing her hair would repel unwanted attention. Stupid genetics.
“Ohhh…is this one of those ‘you're not worthy to learn my name yet’ things? That's fine. It just makes the victory all the sweeter.” He nudged his companion standing in front of him in line. “Hey, Rus.”
“What is it–Oh fuck.” Rus said once he looked around his companion and noticed her, his blue eyes trailing over her with the subtlety of war horn.
If their attention was not so wholeheartedly predictable and aggravating, she would have laughed. She had been standing behind them for hours and they just now noticed her. She knew those around her were twenty years old but gods, she had hoped for some sense of maturity from those wanting to protect their kingdom.
“She won't tell me her name.” Man-child said, his dark gaze trained back on her.
“Aw, come on, baby. You need allies in a place like this.” The other- Rus- smiled winsomely. “And I promise, Iver and I would be beneficial allies.”
“Yeah, we'd look out for you.” Iver reached out, trying to touch her shoulder. “You know…mutually beneficial.”
Leaning back, she twisted her body before he could make contact, ignoring how it brought her closer to the tall man behind her. “Don't touch me.” She flatly stated, even as annoyance burned away inside her to unearth anger.
Iver blinked before chuckling in a way that was anything but humorous or friendly. “Don't be like that. We're just being friendly. A beautiful girl like you needs someone to protect her, who knows what might happen if she's all alone.”
Leyla tried to suppress the shudder slinking down her spine. How was she already making enemies when she had not even crossed the parapet yet? She was supposed to keep her head down, blend in as much as possible and survive.
“The line moved, asshole.” A deep, soothing voice spoke from directly behind her.
Iver glared at the man behind her before turning and taking the eight steps along with his friend to the top of the stairs, bringing them directly to the turret's open door.
“Are you alright?”
She turned to look at the man behind her. “Yeah.” She replied, selfishly allowing herself a moment to appreciate how handsome he was, especially under the midday sun. His blond hair shone, tousled with longer strands swept over his forehead. Even with her standing two steps above him, he still managed to be taller than her. Broad shoulders, an obviously muscular body that his short sleeve tunic could not fully mask, and toned arms, she wondered if Loial had a hand in creating him, especially with his sharp jaw, plush lips and bright blue eyes that stared at her like her answer was the most important thing in this moment.
“Do you want to switch places with me?” He questioned, his soothing voice a caress to her ears.
She hesitated, the word ‘yes’ on the tip of her tongue before she shoved it back down. How was she going to survive the Rider's Quadrant if she could not even handle a couple of assholes, let alone dragons? No, she needed to be strong…even if she felt anything but strong or prepared for what lay ahead.
“It's fine. Thank you.” She took the first step upward before throwing back over her shoulder. “Unless he starts farting, then I'll definitely switch. He looks like he would smell like death.”
The blond behind her snickered as he followed her up. “Write that on my tombstone. It wasn't the parapet or dragons that killed me. It was a deadly fart.”
Slapping a hand over her mouth, she stifled the laugh that erupted at his blasé comment. She stopped at the top step, one down from the top of the turret, and turned back to the blond. Something fluttered in her belly at the genuine smile and sparkle in his eyes. “I'd never allow your reputation that disgrace. It'd be shameful. I'll come up with something more interesting.”
“What’s more interesting than death by fart?”
“Well, obviously, you wanted to make a reputation for yourself before you even crossed the parapet….it's just a damn shame that you decided to try and cross the parapet by walking on your hands the whole way. I mean, it would be very impressive if you succeeded but alas…” she sighed dramatically and shook her head in faux melancholy, “Malek found you amusing and stole you away. A real tragedy.”
She fully faced him as she spoke, giving herself front row seats as his smile grew, revealing dimples in both cheeks and she had to remind herself not to swoon. Loial definitely had a strong opinion when he was created. She lazily wondered if he was blessed by the goddess of love also or just a recipient of her favor in genetics.
“That's the story we're going with?” He asked, mirroring her pose.
“Unless you can think of something better?”
“No, I think that'll work.”
She opened her mouth to reply when a hand on her shoulder whipped her around roughly, making her almost lose her balance on the slick stairs and tumble off if the blond behind her had not latched his hands onto her waist to steady her.
“Stop fucking ignoring me. You're too pretty to die this soon.” Iver stated, his eyes drifted down to the pair of hands on her body. His eyes widened for a brief moment before they narrowed into slits, directed at the man behind her. “A marked one. Makes fucking sense. You know what, beautiful, I wouldn't touch you since you let those dogs put their hands on you. I bet you fucking moan when they rut into you.”
“Shut the fuck up before I make you.” The blond snarled, his grip tightening on her as if that alone prevented him from lunging at the asshole in front of them.
“Hey! The line moved! Fight on the other side!” Someone from further down the stairs yelled out.
Iver turned around but not before sneering at her like she was shit beneath his boots.
Once he moved forward, Leyla started to take the final step up but the hands still on her waist remained, preventing her from moving. She looked up, above her shoulder to meet his furious gaze.
“We're switching spots.” He demanded quietly.
“Okay.” She breathed out, desperate to mask the tremor in her voice.
Gently and carefully, he moved around her, keeping her body against the stone wall and purposefully putting himself towards the open air and the long fall down to the ground. It was as he switched with her that she finally took note of his rebellion relic. The mark traveled from his wrist and up his arm, the rest hidden by his tunic. The swirls and sharp lines stunning in their design but laced with the despair of what it represented.
She had never met a marked one before, tucked away in the country like she had been. Of course, she had heard the stories surrounding the Rebellion and what had happened to the leaders’ children but…she was the last person to blame children for the sins of their parents.
Leyla might not have a mark on her arm but she felt marked all the same.
“He shouldn’t have said that about you.”
She shrugged, gazing out over the expansive fields surrounding Basgiath. “That’s not the first time someone has tried to insult me. I’m sorry too. About what he implied about marked ones. I don’t think that.”
“I know.”
She turned her face to look up at him upon hearing his smug tone.
Those dimples made a reappearance as he leaned down to whisper. “You wouldn’t have been checking me out earlier if you thought that.”
“Shut up.” She grumbled, heat warming her cheeks to an embarrassing degree.
Luckily the line moved once more and she was momentarily saved from her embarrassment. The turret’s top was open to the air, allowing an unobstructed view of the ravine and river on the other side…and the two hundred foot drop from the stone parapet.
Observations of the turret’s stonework or the three riders standing at the entrance to the parapet suddenly vanished from her mind as she stared at the long stone trail, only eighteen inches in width, that she was expected to cross to join the Rider’s Quadrant, or fall to her death. Success or failure.
Gods, what was she thinking? This was a terrible idea, the absolute worst. Fear bloomed within her chest, tendrils slipping out to prick her with thorns, constricting her heart. A nauseating wave of understanding doused her in its icy chill. She had heard rumors and stories of what the Quadrant entailed, of the death tolls, the violence and terror it caused. It was not until this moment she truly believed it. And now she was going to voluntarily try to join.
How could she do this? If anyone found out…. But what else could she do? This was her best chance to survive…or not. Either way, at least she tried. At least she could say she did not give up.
“Name?” One of the three riders waiting by the entrance, which just looked like a gaping hole in the stonework, asked in a clearly bored tone.
“Liam Mairi.” The blond stated confidently to the roll-keeper.
Anxiety and fear danced a tango in her belly as she watched him move forward to stand at the entrance, waiting for the signal to take his turn and prove he deserved to be a cadet. Two other riders loitered around, barely shifted their posture, but she could tell they were talking to him…to Liam. Staring at them, she belatedly took notice of the winding rebellion relics on their own arms. Two more marked ones, but ones that were riders already. A hint of something, perhaps gratitude, coiled in her belly in knowledge that there were others like Liam already in the Quadrant, he would not be alone.
Unlike her.
But she had to remain so to survive.
“I said ‘name’, girl, or are you deaf?” The roll-keeper snapped.
“Sorry,” she immediately apologized, ducking her head, “it's…ah, Leyla Rivers.”
The rider wrote down her name, barely sparing her a glance as he covered a yawn and gestured her forward. Taking a step, moving behind Liam, she wondered how embarrassing it would be if she vomited right then. Would they make her clean it up? Would they laugh and throw her off the parapet? The rolling of her stomach was about to make a decision for her when a gentle touch startled her. A large, warm hand wrapped around her own shaking one and squeezed.
“Hey.”
Daring to be brave, she looked up and was greeted by those bright, blue eyes again.
“I'll see you on the other side.” He said in that soothing tone, imbued with confidence.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath, a poor attempt to soak in his reassurance and smiled softly, not wanting his last memory of her to be surrounded in panic, not that it really mattered if he remembered her. “No walking on your hands.” She teased.
He chuckled. “I'll try my best.”
“Then neither of us have to worry about meeting Malek today.”
“Liam, stop flirting with the pretty girl and get going.” One of the marked ones by the entrance drolled, but with a familiar undertone to the remark.
Liam winked at her and squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. “Ignore Garrick, he’s always been upset that I'm obviously more handsome than him.”
“For fuck’s sake.” The marked one that was as wide as a barn door and with huge muscles for days groaned, rolling his eyes. “Xaden, if I push him off–”
“You know he’d float with all the hot air in his big head.” The taller marked one with dark onyx eyes lazily said but smiled for a brief moment, turning his dark, broody aura into something warm before killing it once again.
“Hilarious, the both of you.” Liam snarked back. Placing his hands on either side of the entrance, he froze for a moment, meeting intense onyx eyes and sharing a brief nod before stepping out onto the parapet and the open air surrounding it.
Chilling anxiety and crippling nerves gripped her with an iron fist. She watched with bated breath as Liam casually walked across the stone parapet like it was a leisurely stroll, arms by his side and an dauntless swagger to his gait that would have been distracting if she was not terrified for his safety.
Once Liam made it to the quarter mark, the marked one- Garrick- she thought, finally spoke to her. “Step up.”
Wordlessly she followed the order, her gaze only drifting briefly to the massive second year and the one with onyx eyes. She startled at seeing those scrutinizing onyx eyes staring at her, gazing at her in a way that felt assessing, like he was trying to read her secrets. He was truly gorgeous with dark hair, tawny skin and a sharp jawline but something about him unnerved her and she quickly darted her gaze away, focusing on watching Liam continue to cross.
It was when Liam was almost to the halfway mark that Zinhal decided to show his fickle hand.
“Go.” She heard from beside her, shoving down the rising terror and taking that first uneven step onto the parapet.
Yet when she looked back up, her heart leapt into her throat.
Liam was warily taking steps back, dodging powerful swings from Iver who had gone before him but clearly turned back.
As if on their own accord, her feet slowly moved forward, her own terror forgotten on the turret as her gaze refused to abandon the sight of the fight happening. She knew hardly anything about fighting, her training was more focused on being a lady, but she could tell Liam remained defensive, only blocking yet giving ground with each step.
Everything changed in a split second.
Iver overswung, losing his balance on the narrow stone walkway. Liam blocked the swing towards his side. Instinctually, Iver gripped onto Liam’s arm as if that would steady himself, like a drowning man clambering over another to try and stay above the deadly waters.
Gravity, and Zihnal, chose otherwise.
They both started to topple over the side, a petrifying shriek yanked from Iver's throat as he grasped at the taller blond.
WIthout thinking, Leyla raced along the parapet, ignoring the two hundred foot drop on either side of her, outrunning the terror previously eating away at her.
With a pained shout, Liam slammed onto the parapet, arms blindly reaching across to grip onto the narrow stonework as his legs and torso dangled freely over the ravine. Iver clung to Liam’s waist like a parasite, loudly cursing and screaming to be pulled up.
Liam’s head shot up, mouth in a grimace, as his gaze locked on hers when she slid next to him on her knees. “No, it's too–”
“Don't let go!” She demanded, locking her arms around his shoulders, pressing her forehead against his temple, desperately hoping it would keep him from falling.
“Wasn't planning on it.”
“PULL ME UP! FUCKING PULL ME UP!”
Leyla lifted her head just enough to meet Iver's wide, panicked eyes.
“DON'T JUST FUCKING SIT THERE! HELP US THE FUCK UP!”
She dropped her forehead back to Liam's temple, her lips brushing against his ear. “Can you do it? Pull yourself up?”
“Just my weight…fuck!...not his too.” He grunted with eyes closed, the strain of hanging on evident.
Realization settled on her like a boulder dropped onto her back. She knew the Rider's Quadrant was hard, that it was ruthless and death would be the shadow that followed all cadets…she just had not expected to taste its darkness so soon.
“Fuck!” Liam shouted, torso jostling as he quickly readjusted his hold on the uneven stones. “Princess, let go. I can't– you need to let go.”
“No! Hold on…just don't give up yet, sunshine!” She commanded, mind scrambling on how to help. A renewed sense of panic bloomed in her chest but she valiantly tried to ignore it, logic warring with everything she had been taught all her life.
Under the bright afternoon sun, a thin shadow wrapped around her wrist and fiercely tugged. At any other time, she would have gaped and screamed but with the adrenaline and mind-numbing panic coursing through her, her mouth remained sealed shut. Her gaze followed as the shadow guided her hand across Liam's back to his ribs, nudging her as it spread across a hard line. Acting on instinct, her hand wrapped around something hard, but it was not until she tugged it out that she recognized what it was. A slim dagger.
Oh gods.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, BITCH?”
She only allowed herself one heartbeat, one brief second before she changed her world forever. Or maybe once she stepped foot in the line to join the Rider's Quadrant, that alone set things into motion. She gave into the growing horror for the span of a breath then forcibly locked it away in her mind.
Gritting her teeth, she leaned over Liam's back and stabbed one of the parasitic hands wrapped around his waist.
A scream ruptured the air around them but she tried to pretend it was only a bird of prey's cry. Not because of her. Not because of what she was doing.
So, she stabbed again.
Just a bird’s cry. The wetness on her hands was only rain drops. Don’t focus. Just act. Don’t…
Oh gods.
Making sure to avoid Liam, she solely focused on Iver's hands and wrists, stabbing one more time.
With a pain-fueled wail, those bloodied hands released…
…and Iver dropped, screaming all the way to the rushing river below.
“Shit.” She gasped, sitting back on her knees, bile coating the back of her throat. Blood splattered across her hand, still painfully gripping the handle of the dagger.
“Princess?”
“Can you–can you get up?” She sputtered, tremors racking her body at the knowledge of what she had just done.
Liam nodded, back and arms flexing. “I think so…back up.”
She scooted back on her butt a little but refused to move more, terrified she would fall off with how badly she was shaking.
Carefully he pulled himself up until his torso was over the parapet and then turned like one would to get out of a pool. It was not until he was balanced precariously on his knees facing her that she let out the breath clogging her lungs.
“Are you hurt?” Those blue eyes scanned over her, the edge of fear still coloring his tone.
She shook her head, throat tight like the very air was trying to suffocate her.
“Come on, let's go.”
“I can’t…” She whispered, terror and horror breaking through her mental box, freezing her limbs to the stone beneath her. Malek…she killed someone.
“Hey, look at me.” He reached out, cupping her cheek as he forced her gaze to hold his. “I won’t let you fall, okay? We can do this.”
Then he dropped his hand from her cheek and grabbed her clenched fist in front of her. Slowly he opened it, slipping his fingers into the empty space between hers. With a fleeting smile, he squeezed her hand before rising.
Following his actions, she rose too.
Above the horror and terror.
Above the raging river that would claim dozens of bodies this day.
She shoved it all aside and willed herself to survive.
Still holding hands, they began to walk towards the other side, that distant entrance to the Rider’s Quadrant. She could feel her hand shaking in his, which only seemed to make him tighten his grip on her. She kept her eyes on his broad back, refusing to look down. The sun burned down upon her face but she welcomed the sting, anything to dilute the writhing emotions swirling in her body and mind like poisonous snakes.
As they approached and then crossed the threshold to the Quadrant, those poisonous emotions slithered to the back of her mind, leaving her feeling drained and exhausted.
“Well that was fucking dramatic.” The woman standing just on the inside with a scroll and pen stated flatly, making a rider standing next to her laugh. “Names?”
“Liam Mairi.”
The rider nodded and then pointedly eyed her. “And yours?”
“Leyla Rivers.”
“Find a spot to sit until formation. Welcome to the Rider's Quadrant, cadets.”
“You two are off to a good start.” The companion chuckled, nudging the roll-keeper.
Without sparing them a second glance, Leyla silently followed Liam, allowing him to draw her further into the Quadrant. Almost as soon as they passed the roll keeper, Liam was bodily dragged into a fierce hug. He released her hand, slapping his companion happily on the back.
“Took you long enough. I almost came out to get your ass, but they wouldn't let me back onto the parapet.” The dark-haired companion with a matching rebellion relic on his arm said, after smacking Liam one more time on the back. “You don't have to be such a show-off.”
Liam chuckled, taking a step back and returning to Leyla’s side. “I had to make it interesting. You practically skipped across it.”
“Well, Xaden told me if I did something stupid like fall, he'd wring my neck…can't imagine what he's going to do to you.”
“Oh fuck.”
The dark-haired companion chuckled. “Lucky for you, you had a gods-sent savior.” He finally looked at her, a smile growing on his face. “Thank you for saving his ass.”
“I'd say ‘anytime’ but I really don't want to do that again.” She softly murmured.
He laughed, tawny skin catching the sunlight, before jerking his head towards where the crowd of cadets loitered. “Come on, let's find somewhere to wait.”
She paused as the two started to walk away, unsure if she was meant to follow them. When a large, warm hand wrapped around hers, tugging her along, she easily relented.
The three of them secured a spot against one of the outer walls, dropping to sit on the dirt floor. She found herself sandwiched between the two taller men, but instead of fear, comfort skated down her nerves, even though she could sense the bone-deep horror and tremors only a heartbeat away. Right now, she tried to ignore it. To revel in the reality that she made it, she was a cadet! Amongst the sea of strangers and danger ahead, she relaxed into the cove of momentary peace her companions’ surrounding presence offered, soaking it in like parched ground.
“Shit, you've got blood on you.”
Leyla startled as Liam gently grasped her hand, sliding the dagger from her palm. In the mental chaos of crossing the parapet, she had not noticed the dagger still in her grip. “Oh.”
“Are you hurt?” He asked, wiping off the blood on the bottom of his pants before sliding the dagger back into its sheath against his ribs.
“Shouldn't I be asking you that?”
“I'll be fine.”
To her shock, he lifted the hem of his dark tunic and used it to clean the drying splatters of blood off her hand. She caught a glimpse of a firm core and the faint outline of abs before she quickly darted her gaze back up to his face, hoping what brief flash of heat she felt did not transfer to her cheeks. Now was certainly not the time to be ogling him.
Then something hit her. “Wait…did you call me ‘princess’ back there?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” Her heart raced at the potential implications of his answer.
He leaned back against the wall, lips curled upward in a smirk that drew out a dimple in his cheek. “Well, you were quite demanding, telling me to hold on. I figured ‘princess’ fit.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “I'm fairly certain you called me ‘sunshine’ right back.”
What building tension whooshing out of her so quickly, she felt momentarily lightheaded. It was just a silly nickname. He did not mean anything by it.
She ignored his latter comment, not about to reveal how struck she was by him at their initial meeting and how his warmth and their lighthearted humor reminded her of sunshine. “Well, I didn't feel like working on your tombstone today so I told you to hold on and Malek to fuck off.”
That drew a startled laugh from the men on either side of her and a responding, weak smile grew on her lips.
“I think you'll be fun to have around.” The dark-haired man chuckled, then held out a hand in front of her. “Bodhi Durran.”
She took it, giving it a quick shake before wrapping her arms around herself again. “Leyla Rivers.”
“Who else made it across?” Liam asked in a hushed tone.
Leyla zoned out as the two quietly spoke over her. Gods, she hoped she made the right choice. What was this place going to do to her? How was it going to change her? She had not even fully entered into the Quadrant and she had already murdered someone! The reminder made her breath hitch in her throat and horror clawed its way towards her lungs. She could not do this. She had literal blood on her hands. Someone died because of her. The back of her throat tasted of bile once again and she wondered if she had enough time to sprint for somewhere seclusive before vomiting.
Before she could spiral further, a warm hand covered hers, tugging her into a broad chest. Without thinking, she leaned against Liam, absorbing his comfort and warmth. Taking slow breaths, she waited for the swelling nausea to subside, for the faint trembling of her hands to dissipate.
She desperately hoped she had not made a mistake. She had heard it sworn once that those that attempted the Rider's Quadrant either came out on the back of a dragon or dead…but she silently rationalized to herself that either was a better option to the alternative.
At least HE could not find her here.
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Yes, this is feels like the first chapter of a series. My brain can't stop thinking about Liam & Leyla so we'll see if I continue and ignore all my other WIPs.