The King's Prey (Unedited Edition)

Chapter 12 : A Feast for Two

Agathokakological • [a-gath-o-cak-o-logical]
Composed of both good and evil.

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By the time we return, the entire sky has turned into a void of blackness, the stars seeming to hide behind newly formed clouds. Lights from inside the house are already turned on, spilling out onto the stone deck and the darkness of the woods as we cross the threshold of the sliding glass door to enter the house.

I'm thankful for the heat that encases my body once we're inside. My body nearly froze from the short walk. Even with the fresh air in my lungs, a rattling uneasiness begins to run through my bones.

Liam lets me remove my winter wear before he directs me to the dining room I had spotted earlier where the chandelier above the long glass table now glimmers. The room is for the most part empty, but plates and glasses are already set along its surface along with hot dishes of food. It's an elegant space that's designed in hues of rich and dark colors. Minimal but luxurious.

The smell of the cuisine invades my nostrils, causing a grumble to erupt from my stomach. I didn't realize I was so hungry. I'm curious as to who exactly cooked the food and set the table in the first place.

Before I can begin asking stupid questions, Liam pulls out one of the two chairs that have silverware in its spot. "Sit. Samuel will be here shortly."

I stare into his empty emerald eyes and then look to his hand that grips the back of the chair before I take my seat. Liam doesn't say another word as he exits the room, leaving me to the silence of the house.

I fumble with my clammy hands, trying to find a distraction from the shakiness. I try my hardest not to stare at how swollen my injured hand looks—how much worse it's gotten.

The minutes pass and I swear for a second that this is just some cruel joke they're trying to play. My urge to get up is halted when a large figure walks in from one of the adjoining rooms—from the shadows of the house.

My grip against the arms of my chair tightens when Samuel's face is in full view under the light of the chandelier. He takes one look at me—unbothered—before looking away as he makes his way to sit at the spot across from mine.

He's dressed in all black attire—not surprising. I try for the life of me to loosen my hold on the arms of my chair, but the tension in my body never wavers. My face must be the color of a ghost as Samuel says, "You look like you're going to faint."

With his criticism, I finally release my hands and try to relax my body as much as I possibly can. I can't seem to erase the awkward encounter we had only a few nights ago. I ignore his comment, already embarrassed enough to be here. "Why am I eating dinner with you, exactly?"

Samuel begins to serve himself, grabbing various foods to put on his plate. He looks up at me for a split second from his task. "Why not." His statement doesn't even come out as a question.

I'm ready to grab a spoonful of vegetables and chuck it at him before he adds, "We need to discuss your stay here."

My stay. More like my imprisonment. He acts as though I'm a welcomed guest in this life of wolves and ravagers.

Samuel finishes plating himself, grabbing a fork as he digs into his steak. I watch him carefully—quietly—as enjoys the steaming food. He pours himself what I'm assuming is champagne before looking up at me and then down to my clean plate. "Eat. I don't want your empty stomach being the reason this conversation turns hostile."

I glare further into his eyes as he gently sets the bottle of alcohol down, his gaze never leaving mine. "I promise it's not poisoned," he says, trying to enlighten the mood. The atmosphere feels anything but pleasant—far from being lively and farther from being enjoyable.