Chapter Fourteen - Demands
LIORA
My patience snapped.
I lifted the cloth and, without warning, dumped the rest of the water from the pitcher straight over his head.
Kieran sucked in a sharp breath as the sudden chill ran down his back.
Silence.
Then he turned his head, golden eyes darkening as they locked onto mine.
The tension crackled between us, thick as a brewing storm.
Gripping the empty pitcher, I could only stare.
He ran a wet hand through his dark hair, pushing it back as droplets slid down the sharp angles of his face. The candlelight caught the golden hues in his eyes, making them burn like molten fire.
Then, with a smirk that was entirely too satisfied, he leaned back against the tub.
“Better,” he finally said.
I let out a slow breath.
After what felt like an eternity of testing my patience in the bath, Kieran finally rose from the water, droplets cascading down his sculpted form as he reached for the towel. I quickly turned away, not to see his nakedness, gripping the edge of the tub so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
I thought I was finally free for the night.
But as I moved toward the door, Kieran’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“You’ll bring me my supper.”
I turned, drawing my brows together. “There are maids for that." Kieran’s golden gaze met mine, unreadable. “I said, you should bring it.” A slow wave of frustration rolled through me, but I swallowed it down, clenching my fists.
Fine. If he wants to continue testing my limits, I will endure it. I made my way to the kitchens, ordering a tray prepared with roasted meat, warm bread, and a thick stew. By the time I returned to the chamber, I was convinced this would be the last of his demands.
But I was wrong.
Setting the tray on the table beside him, I turned to leave. Kieran took a bite. Paused.
Then
“Too salty.”
I froze mid-step. Slowly, I turned back, forcing a breath through my nose. “Excuse me?” Kieran gestured toward the plate. “Too much salt. Fix it”
“But I wasn't the one who made it”
“And I said, Fix it. Is it too much to ask?”
I bit back the insult pressing against my tongue. With tight movements, I lifted the tray, and took it back to the kitchen, and instructed the cook to prepare another plate.
I returned, setting it down before him with a strained smile.
He took another bite.
“It's too spicy”
I twitched my eyes.
“Kieran” my voice was almost pleading.
He glances at me with serious looks. “Don’t call me that”
My nails dug into my palm, but I bit back the scream building in my chest and stormed back to the kitchens.
Another plate. Another attempt.
I placed it in front of him.
Kieran picked up his fork, brought it to his lips, then immediately frowned
“Don't”
“Now it's too sweet”
“What?!. How do you want it to be?. Bitter?!.”
“I want everything, moderately," I felt like killing him. My patience hung by a fragile thread as I snatched the tray up again, fighting the urge to throw it at his head. He’s pushing me, testing my patience, watching me squirm.
By the time I returned for the fourth time, my fingers trembled as I set the meal in front of him.
Kieran lifted a spoonful of stew, blowing softly before tasting it.
Silence.
Then—
“Too hot.”
I slammed my hands down on the table. “Eat. The. Dawn. Food.” Kieran finally looked at me then, a slow smirk curling across his lips. I noticed he was enjoying this. I wanted to scream. I wanted to flip the table, storm out, and never return.
But I couldn’t.
So I forced myself to straighten, chin lifting.
“If you don’t eat this plate, you can starve.”
A dangerous gleam flashed in Kieran’s eyes. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “And if I do?”
I held his gaze.
“You starve.”
A beat of silence. Then he sighed, "I need to get some rest. I'm tired.” He got up from the chair and moved towards the bed and landed on it.
I scoffed with my mouth open, "Seriously, who's going to eat the food?" He left my question hanging in the air. I angrily sighed and stormed to the couch and slept.
My breath came in sharp gasps as the darkness wrapped around me. Cold fingers traced along my skin, a dream again, and felt all the same. The same voice whispered my name, drawn out, eerie, slipping through the void like smoke.
"Liora…"
I tried to turn, to run, but the shadows coiled around my ankles, pulling me down. The voice called again.
"Come, Liora," closer. Hungrier.
And then—
Pain seared through my left shoulder, the helix mark; everything felt real.
My eyes flew open, a sharp gasp tearing from my throat as I jerked upright on the bed.