Eyes dont lie - isabel LaRosa
ENJOY
All human beings have a soft spot—except Alex. Unless he's a human-formed demon, which, knowing him, isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. But I'm almost certain he's human. Almost.
"What are you craving?" Alex asks, his voice as rough as gravel but with a strange undercurrent of something that almost sounds like… hospitality.
"Freedom," I answer, fully aware that this might piss him off, but I figure it's worth the shot.
He doesn't reply, doesn't even blink. He just stares at me, right into my eyes, like he's trying to peel away my skin with just a look.
Damn, that's terrifying. I think to myself, regretting the words the moment they leave my mouth.
"Anything will do," I add quickly, trying to backpedal.
His eyes soften, just slightly, like I'd poked at a crack in the ice and now it's starting to thaw.
I give him a small, almost apologetic smile. He holds a knife in his hand. I do not—repeat, I do not—want to be stabbed tonight.
"So, cooking's your hobby?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation somewhere less dangerous.
"No."
Cold as ever. I roll my eyes, though I know he can't see it.
"But you cook?" I press, raising an eyebrow.
"I have my tricks," he says, the hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
And that left me with more questions than answers. Who, in their right mind, would've had the patience to teach him anything? Or maybe they didn't have a choice, considering how much of a 'know-it-all' he is. The thought alone gives me chills, like I'm being watched by something far more sinister than I could understand.
With fluid precision, he grabs two cloves of garlic, slicing them so quickly it's like watching a deadly dance. Then, an onion appears from nowhere, and soon after, tomatoes begin to boil, filling the air with a pungent aroma.
All I can do is stand in the kitchen doorway, watching him work like a strange, cold-hearted machine that somehow knows how to make dinner.
It's surreal. Never did I imagine the monster who captured me would have the time or patience to cook.
My jaw probably hit the floor, but I didn't care enough to close it.
"Close your mouth, princess. A fly might fly in."
At that point, I wanted something else in me.
I mean, the spaghetti. I slap myself mentally for even thinking it. This was getting ridiculous—my thoughts were going places they absolutely shouldn't.
He could kill me at any moment, yet here I was, fantasizing about anything but food. Or at least imagining him—the demon in human skin—doing things that weren't cooking.
"Keep looking at me like that, princess, and I might think you want to recreate what happened in the woods." His voice drops, as dark as the shadows in the corners of the room. "You looked like you liked it."
He doesn't even look at me, but I can feel the dangerous amusement slipping under his skin, like poison spreading.
I swear, I couldn't be redder than the tomato he was slicing open. And for a second, I wished I was that tomato.
Please, kill me already.
"I'm not looking, and I didn't…" I stammer, my throat dry. "It's not like that, and you know it."
"Oh, I know." He says the words like a challenge. "Your thoughts always betray you, princess. They're as loud as your lies."
He sets down the knife and steps toward me, closing the distance between us with unnerving calm.
"I told you, you can lie to yourself, but not to me," he murmurs, his breath dangerously close to mine, his eyes glinting with something feral.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper, knowing that if I even moved an inch, we'd collide.
"I'm trying to get the salt, princess. But you're standing in my way."
"What?" I ask, confused.
"You're blocking the door." He points behind me.
FUCKING. SHIT.
"Oh, right." I step aside quickly, my heart still pounding in my chest, trying to regain control of my breath.
Just what the hell is happening to me? How can I feel anything for this man? The man who's made it his mission to invade my mind, and no matter how many times I try to push him away, he stays.
"Food's ready, princess." His voice pulls me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts.
"Oh, right." I make my way to the table and take the plate he offers me, my hands trembling.
"Thanks," I mutter, the words feeling weak in the face of the storm I'm trying to avoid.
We eat in silence. The air between us is thick, uncomfortable—neither of us daring to shatter the fragile quiet.
My mind, though, is a thousand miles away.
Home.
What happened? What's the real story behind my birth?
I know this isn't the time, but no matter how many books I read, no matter how many questions I ask, I can't find anything.
Nothing fits. I never paid much attention to history class, but I wouldn't ignore something like this. No records about any war… or Cerberus slaves.
And the fact that he won't give me the full story—it's just too suspicious. I don't trust it. I don't trust him.
Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice Booth until he's already standing in the doorway, his large body filling the space.
"Aren't you supposed to be training?" Alex asks, eyes flicking to the dog.
Booth only growls softly, a warning.
I snap out of my thoughts, eyes landing on the big dog now staring me down like I'm some kind of puzzle to solve.
"Training?" I ask, trying to make sense of the situation.
"All Cerberus creatures undergo Invernal training," Alex replies, voice casual, as though this is common knowledge.
Wait—what? Did I somehow miss the entire history of my own people? I think to myself.
"How are you even royalty if you don't know what Invernal training is?" He smirks, and for a moment, I feel smaller than I ever have before.
I don't respond, too embarrassed to admit I have no clue what he's talking about.
"Mhm…" (he takes a deep breath). "Each kingdom's creatures undergo a grueling three-year training to represent their kingdom in battle, especially when it comes to defending against the Northeast Gods."
I'm all ears now.
I've heard the stories of the Northeast Gods—these creatures that appear once every 100 years, trying to expand their domain. But despite the kingdoms being so far apart, there's an agreement to fight together when the time comes.
It's an intense story, but I never paid attention in class. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I should care now.
"Understood?" Alex finishes.
Shit. Was he even talking? No idea.
"Yeah, yeah." I nod quickly, hoping I don't sound as lost as I feel.
"You're a real headache, princess," Alex mutters under his breath.
Booth steps in front of me, barking furiously at Alex.
"Don't you dare take her si—" another bark.
Ha. Take that, pretty boy. Booth's finally on my side. It's about damn time.
"Looks like someone likes me more." I grin, giving Booth's back fur a scratch, though he's too tall for me to reach his head.
"Yeah, right. Both of you are a pain in the ass," Alex replies, rolling his eyes.
There was something new about this conversation. For the first time since I met him, it felt like we'd actually had a normal, calm exchange—and I would even dare say it was… interesting. Not deadly.
But as much as I wanted to let that thought settle in my mind, something deep inside me warned it wouldn't last. Not with Alex. Not with a man like him.
I couldn't shake the feeling that this strange peace was just the calm before the storm, and no matter how many times I convinced myself otherwise, I knew one thing for certain: it wasn't going to stay like this for long.