Page 15 of Reveal Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #2)

Dion

S itting on my throne was the last place I wanted to be.

My back ached from the unnatural posture I’d been holding for what felt like hours.

I wanted to be anywhere but here, in this cold, impersonal room.

I wanted to find Niamh, no matter what face or hair or makeup she’d be hiding behind today.

I wanted to tell her that I saw past it all, that I saw her, and I wanted to claim what was mine.

But I had to deal with my duties first.

My fingers ached from the endless paperwork. My mind dulled from reading letters that all sounded the same. My people wanted more food, more shelter, more help. From me.

I had put programs in place, processes, too. But unless I was the one cutting the ribbon or blessing the deal, it didn’t seem to count to them. They wanted all of me or it didn’t matter.

That hadn’t mattered to me. Before her. Before I shared every part of my body and mind with the people I ruled. Now I only wanted to hear one woman’s pleas, one woman’s groans, one woman’s acceptance.

My eyes glazed as the line of courtiers, nobles, and advisors filed past me.

I signed petition after petition, blessed babies, made deals, and listened to complaints I couldn’t care less about.

I rushed through them, moving faster than I ever had.

Normally, I would have relished the attention of my people, enjoying their respect, the way they looked up to me. Today, it felt suffocating.

“You’re in quite a rush, Your Majesty,” a noble from the back commented with a mocking chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “Have an orgy you’re late for?”

A ripple of laughter spread through the room. Normally, I would have made a joke at my expense. I had never felt the need to hide my sexual exploits.

“Or maybe wedding preparations have you in a hurry?” another voice chimed in. A different noble, his face set in a smirk.

“I doubt we’ll see our great king at Lord Oz’s wedding,” another voice piped up, the words wrapped in a chuckle. “Can’t remember the last time our king attended a mating ceremony.”

I was about to call the man out for blasphemy against his sovereign. That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. I’d attended a number of mating ceremonies.

Well… attended might have been a stretch. Mating ceremonies were prime hunting grounds for women thinking about pairing up. At least during the ceremony. I’d always be sure to be back in time for the cake and cream. I did love cream.

The heavy doors swung open, cutting through the air with a sharp creak. I didn’t need to look up to know who was entering. Only Oz’s boots made that sound against the stone floor.

“I need a word in private with the king.”

I also knew that tone. My best friend was not happy with me. There could only be one reason why.

The room, filled with courtiers and advisors, grew quiet. They knew better than to argue with him. They filed out quickly, leaving only the two of us alone in the massive chamber. The doors thudded shut, sealing us in.

Oz prowled closer slowly. When he was within striking distance, he took a cheap shot. His fist connected with my jaw. Pain exploded through my face. I cursed under my breath, tasting blood in my mouth. I wasn’t expecting that.

“You slept with Niamh.”

I was expecting that .

“You can’t even keep it in your pants for your own cousin’s wedding.”

His words stung sharper than the blow he’d landed. I wanted to fight back, to lash out and defend myself. Instead, I slumped, defeated. “She’s my fated mate.”

Oz’s hands dropped from their fists to his sides. His face was a mix of confusion and disbelief. He stepped closer but didn’t say anything at first. He also unballed his fists.

Finally, he spoke. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when I pretended to be a damn guard when I met her.”

Oz’s eyes widened. “You what? How is that even possible? Everyone on Panthera knows who you are.”

I gave Oz a pointed look. Ever since the man had mated, he’d gotten slower on the uptake.

Take his assumption that Stella was my mate instead of his.

I saw the moment realization dawned that Niamh, who was not from Panthera, was my mate.

The epiphany looked much like when he’d realized Stella was my cousin.

He took a step back, his face shifting from anger to concern. “Then just tell her the truth. That you’re the king and her fated mate.”

I shook my head, my hands curling into fists, my body rigid. “I’m pretty sure she knows I’m the king. She pretended to be someone else and approached me.”

The confusion was back on my best friend’s face. I couldn’t blame him. It was a cluster fuck.

“And now she thinks I slept with someone else.”

Oz sniffed the air around me. “Did you?”

“I didn’t.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shove down the frustration bubbling up inside me. “I mean, she thinks I did.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Because she pretended to be someone else, and we slept together. She thinks I cheated on her.” I crossed my arms over my chest, a reflex, a barrier—more to shield myself than anything else.

Oz was silent for a moment. “I don’t understand any of this.”

I looked up at him, frustration gnawing at my insides. “You and me both, buddy. And I’m the costar of the disaster.”

“So what are you going to do?”

What I wanted to do was find her, talk to her, convince her not to reject me, to give me a chance. And if all of that failed, I’d tie her to my bed and make her pass out from the amount of orgasms I would give her.

“We need to talk.” The feminine voice came from the open door to the grand hall. Niamh stood there, in the face I had met her with in the forest.

She was a vision in deep blue and gold. Her skin the color of rich earth. Those hazel eyes that sparkled like tiny stars were being born in her pupils. Her lips, lush and full, just like the curves beneath the fabric of the simple dress she wore.

The sight of her made my knees go weak. I almost let them buckle.

I was a heartbeat away from proposing right there before I even had a chance to breathe.

The pull she had on me was undeniable. Every part of me screamed to move toward her, to give in to the magnetism of this woman who was meant for me.

But the reality—the complication—was too much.

I forced myself to stand tall, even as the weight of the situation hit me harder than the punch Oz had landed.

She was here. She was mine.

But was she?