Page 69 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

Aed’s voice reverberates in my ears. “Do not gloat! It is not…”

Odhran knocks my feet out from under me with the swipe of an arm. The world tilts around me before the air leaves my lungs in an ungraceful oef. Light spots flash behind my eyes for a second too long. He’s on top of me, straddling my hips before the world comes into focus. “She has teeth,” he grumbles, flashing his lengthened cuspids and blackened eyes. “Perhaps I’ll let you sink them into me.”

My body tenses beneath him, my heart pounding. Anger, like molten lava, burns through my veins as he lowers himself further, bringing his head closer to mine. The smirk on his face is one of victory, and I hate it.

I am not weak.

Aed growls in agreement.

My hand balls into a fist, and I strike, aiming for his throat. He catches my hand before it delivers its blow.

“Mo Stóirín,” he breathes, pinning both of my hands above my head. His pupils dilate, darkening his piercing grey eyes. His lips part, and he inhales slowly.

“Get off me,” I hiss through clenched teeth, wiggling underneath him and inching upward.

“Or what?” His smile is slight, softening his expression.

Thrusting my hips into a bridge, I watch him tip forward onto his hands. As swift as before, I snatch my wrists from his grip, snapping my arms to my sides. He falls onto his elbows, his abdomen flattening against my cheek. I turn my head away just in time. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I climb the tree that is Odhran. There’s no time to think. No time for embarrassment. No time to breathe as I knock his arm out from under him.

Climb. Knock. Trap. Roll.

My heart hammers in my chest as I use my hips to buck him off. Our roles are reversed when I look into his eyes and the shock widening them. “Or I’ll make you,” I hiss, leaning forward as I push my elbow into his throat.

I stand before he does anything but cough, dusting the sand off my pants and shirt.

Odhran clears his throat. “Not bad.” His voice is rough, but there’s an unmistakable hint of pride in his tone.

“Not bad,” I huff before turning to face him. My heart still hammers in my chest, fluttering below my skin.

“You need to carry a weapon. Let’s see if you know how to wield it.” As he speaks, he reaches toward his side, his leather creaking. The scent of burning flesh wafts toward me, my nose twitching in discomfort. In his palm is an iron blade, the metal glinting in the low light. He holds it out for me to take, and I do. A raw red imprint remains on his skin, the shape of the blade now firmly in my grip. A part of me relishes in seeing him hurt, but another part of me, the more dominant side, feels remorse. I hate it. I hate that despite my anger, I can’t truly hate him.

“Draw your weapon,” he commands. “Show me where you need to strike.” Memories of the faerie in the woods flood my mind, the warmth of his blood on my skin still vivid. Without hesitation, I press the tip of the blade below his ribs. The metallic taste of anticipation fills my mouth.

“Some things are hard to forget,” I say, retracting the blade. A mixture of pride and guilt dances across his features.

“Now, if I was too close,” he says, closing the distance between us, causing my blade to dig into his leather armour. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Over eager, are we?” His laugh lacks amusement.

My knuckles whiten as I grip the blade. As I stare into his eyes. As his scent washes over me like a tsunami. “Fine,” I relent, dropping my hand. Odhran presses against me. My breathing hitches, and my heart races. Every nerve ending in my body tingles with his proximity, the wild beating of his heart matching the rhythm of my own.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hand wrapping around my wrist, guiding the tip of my blade to his back, right to his kidneys. As he does, the warmth of his breath brushes against my skin, causing a shiver to run down my spine. My senses heighten, capturing the rise and fall of his chest, the faint scent of him mingling with the musky scent of leather.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Bryn.” His confession is a rumble against my skin, like thunder dancing between clouds. “I would do anything for you. I’ll free every damn human in the realm, but my oath to Darragh prohibits me from doing so. That oath expires when my brother ascends the throne. Give me time.” Fae cannot lie, I remind myself. They can skate around truths, can twist stories, and can shape their sentences into beautifully crafted omissions, but they can’t lie outright. Not directly to your face in one straightforward statement. This isn’t a lie.

Like glass shattering, so does my resolve. My lips part when I look at his, soft and full. Warmth floods my senses, and I’m suddenly achingly aware of every inch of his body against mine.

“I believe you,” I breathe, sinking my teeth into my lower lip.

“One truth?” he asks. His words are a warm whisper over my skin.

“One.” I hold my breath.

“What do you want most?” His thumb brushes over my wrist before releasing me.

My gaze flicks to his as though it were the first time seeing him. Not a general. Not a prince. Not the heir to the throne or even a faerie. It’s as if I’m seeing him, Odhran Cian Delaney, the man, for the first time and craving nothing more than to possess him in every way.

“Right now…” I swallow. “You… on your knees… for me.” We might only have this moment. After the coronation, we’ll go our separate ways, as we should.

His mouth seals over mine, kissing me with a primal hunger I can’t explain. He tastes better than I remember. His hair is soft when my fingers entangle in it, like silk sliding through my grasp. The touch of his hands, possessive and consuming, roams down my body, igniting a trail of fire within me. He lifts me off the ground, and the world around us fades, leaving only the intoxicating rhythm of our kiss.