The King's Prey (Unedited Edition)

Chapter 21 : The Walls Which Never Stood

Appetence • [app-a-tense]
An eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond.

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I awaken to blinding light bursting through the ceiling to floor windows as a very moody Liam draws every curtain open to allow the sunlight to stream in. I groan from where I lay on the couch, covering my face with an arm before turning myself to face the backside of the sofa.

Had I known the snow from outside would reflect so much damn light down here, I would've asked to be carried back up to my room last night rather than sleep on the sofa. Though it wasn't my intent to even fall asleep down here in the first place, I guess Samuel didn't want to wake me from my peaceful and much-needed resting.

"C'mon, wake up," Liam grumbles, his footsteps approaching the L-shaped sofa where I lay.

"Go away." My voice cracks with dryness through the pillow that smothers half of my face. I pull the comforting blanket further over my shoulders, now realizing how soft it is.

"Samuel said I needed to have you up before noon so you can eat something," Liam says. "So it would be lovely if you would do me the favor of at least trying to act like you're awake."

"Fuck off," I jeer. I prepare myself to strangle him before he can utter another word. But the plan is quickly swept away as the blanket is yanked from my body and I nearly tumble off of the sofa. "Hey! What the hell?!" I yell.

Finally forcing myself to face the windows, Liam stands several feet away as he holds the blanket out of my reach. "Are you awake yet?" he teases. I almost hurl myself off of the couch to get it back, but I'm quickly reminded of the pulsating injury in my left leg.

"Is this how you treat cripples?" I mumble, stretching my legs out in front of me as they groan with the strain and soreness of the past several days.

"Oh please, you're not that injured," he chuckles. I glare at him—hard. So hard to the point where his dark emerald eyes don't even compare to the intensity of my own. They widen, shock crossing his face by my boiling rage.

"I can barely walk," I fume. "Tell me, is that injured enough for you?"

Liam rolls his eyes before tossing the blanket back to me that I quickly wrap back around myself. "You'll be fine in a few weeks."

I don't comment as I settle back into the couch now sitting up, allowing my shoulders to relax from the amount of stress our bickering just caused me. Liam wanders into the kitchen and the smell of cooked food finally hits me.

He brings back two plates of hot eggs, bacon, toast, and an assortment of fruits along with a glass of orange juice for me. Placing one of the plates and the glass on the coffee table before sinking into an armchair nearby, he begins to chow through his dish in silence.

I stare at the array of foods in front of me and glance back at him before picking up the plate and enjoying the fillingness of the food in my stomach. It doesn't take long until we're both finished and Liam leaves me again to clean our dishes.

The remnants of what I had heard last night threaten to slip from my lips. The questions that have been building up since then—it's difficult to not blurt them all out. Something in my chest urges me to ask, but another thing tells me it's a horrible idea.

Liam might not take the news well that I was eavesdropping anyway. I'll ask Samuel later, whenever he gets home. Hopefully, he'll be more compliant with opening up about it.