Page 17 of Delectable Lies

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I wake with a startle,covered in a cold sweat as my heart rages against my chest, thumping to an erratic beat. Slightly disoriented, I inhale as I blink the sleep from my eyes before sitting up and allowing my gaze to take in the unfamiliar surroundings of charcoal walls with matte black furnishings, arched church-like door frames, and a plush smoky grey carpet.

It takes me a few seconds to register that I’m in my new bedroom at the Devereux twins gate lodge. After dinner, Beibhinn gave me a quick tour, but I was exhausted from the past few days. So, forgoing the party she invited me to attend, I crawled into bed before collapsing. It’s a decision I now regret because, in these lonely moments, I remember just how much my life has gone to shit.

Clutching my chest, I take deep, steady breaths as I scan the room, checking every corner for the masked man who played the leading role in my nightmare. Every night since the forest, he’s penetrated my subconscious — psychological warfare caused by flashes of his haunting kaleidoscopic evergreen and rustic brown hues. Only in my sleep, he doesn’t set me free; he drags me through the debris, and no matter how hard I try to fight, he doesn’t relent. The dream ends with the same warning each night, with him standing above me as water rushes over my limbs, chilling my core.Mine,he warns.You were always meant to be mine.

My panic rises.Relax. It was a bad dream, nothing more.

Pushing the rumpled cover off, I slide from the king-sized bed and force my exhausted boneless body towards the open window. The night breeze rustles the curtains, and an eerie sensation washes over me as I peer out into the night.

Beneath my skin, my blood runs cold as the feeling of someone out there watching me creeps in. Realising my mind is playing tricks on me, I shake the unwanted thought away, slam the window shut and draw the curtains closed.

Fuck, I need to get out of this room, and quick.

When I couldn’t sleep as a child, my mam would always make me a large mug of hot chocolate. Needing some comfort, I decided to check if there are any in the kitchen.I tiptoe down the hallway and descend the spiral staircase leading to the lower level. With each step closer to the kitchen, I become more aware of a faint pounding coming from the back of the house. The repetitious thuds feed my curiosity, and before I know it, my idiocy carries me past my desired destination, towards the in-home gym Beibhinn pointed out on our tour earlier.

Much like the main house, the exterior walls are reflective glass, old, aged stone and contradictory heavy metal beams. The beautiful blend of modern meets rustic Celtic Irish architecture is a stunning sight, but when I push through the gym doorway, its beauty doesn’t hold a candle to the view before me.

Hands wrapped in white cloth, wearing nothing more than grey sweatpants, Liam pummels the large boxing bag, rattling the thick metal chains that attach it to the iron beams running across the span of the ceiling.

Only a fool would not recognise the enigma who is Liam Devereux. Arrogant confidence radiates from him, paired with a dangerously dishevelled exterior, making it hard for me to look anywhere else but his glistening skin.

Resting my shoulder against the doorframe, I watch him release his anger on to the bag, grunting each time his fists make contact.

Seconds pass, one hit turns into ten until finally, his shoulders drop with a rush of breath.

“You gonna stand there watching me like a deranged little stalker all night, or are you gonna come over here and release whatever it is that has you awake at four-thirty in the morning?”

My lungs tighten at his question, and I freeze. Even though I know it’s a ridiculous action. It’s not like my lack of airflow and movement will make me invisible. Besides, he already knows I am here.

“What’s it gonna be, free bird?”

My eyebrows furrow into a hardened V at his use of the nickname. It seems familiar, like a memory lost to time. Deep within my subconscious, I know I’ve heard the name before, but where? I scan my mind and come up empty-handed.Weird.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” He lifts his hand to his mouth as he turns to face me, then using his teeth, he grips the tape securing his hand and tugs. The white cloth unravels before he uses his other hand to unwrap it the rest of the way.

Tracing his fingers, I find his slow, precise movements hypnotic. He repeats the action with his right hand, but his thundercloud eyes stay trained on me this time.

“I talk plenty.”

“Oh, so it’s only my presence that gets you all starry-eyed and tongue-tied?”

“Did you come out of the womb big-headed? Or perhaps it inflated over time, like your ego.”

His tongue travels over his bottom lip, and a seductive smirk curls in the commissure of his mouth. “There it is.”

“Therewhatis?”

He steps closer, narrowing the distance between us. Each step he takes tightens my stomach, and I find myself holding my breath in my lungs.

When he finally reaches me, he places his pointer finger beneath my chin and tilts my head until my gaze is trapped by his.

“The feisty fighter hiding beneath the sadness in your eyes.” He winks. “Question is, are you ready to let her come out to play? After all, you are a queen, and queens protect their kingdom.”

Stepping back, I pull away from his touch as his words tumble around my head, my confusion and intrigue blending into one. My brow furrows as I search for the meaning behind his cryptic statement. “What…what do you mean, my kingdom?”

Liam rolls his neck and shoulders, releasing the tight muscles from his workout. “My ma and da think you need to train before they tell you why your mother led you here, but I have a different opinion.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

Liam leans forward, drawing his mouth closer to my ear by placing his hand on the wall behind my head. “Never send someone to battle when they don’t understand the war. You’re the key to dethroning a false king, free bird.”

He inches closer, and his hot breath brushes against my exposed neck. “I happen to think you need to know what you’re fighting for.”

“So, tell me.” My demand is pathetic, weakened by my airy tone and Liam’s closeness.

Pulling back, he sidesteps. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. You’ll have to wait and see.”

With that, he walks through the doorway, but not before tossing departing words over his shoulder. “See you at breakfast, free bird.”

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