Page 16 of Reveal Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #2)

Niamh

E veryone was looking at me as I stood at the entrance to the throne room.

The nobles were draped in their silks and jewels.

Debutantes and fancy ladies in their embroidered gowns, delicate curls falling from their tightly coiled hair, were whispering behind veils of perfume and makeup.

There were a few men with the steely look of businessmen—sharp suits, their faces carrying that quiet, calculating intensity of those who traded in power.

Behind them, in the shadows, were servants—quick-moving, quiet, almost invisible—but their watchful eyes didn’t miss a single thing.

The general onlookers, from those of high birth to the lower-ranked, lined the walls. They all waited for something—waiting for me to make a fool of myself, maybe. The funny thing was that no one dared to stop me from bursting into the throne room.

Maybe this was a typical scene for this particular king. Dion’s women—his distractions. Maybe they caused a scene on a regular.

Well, they were in for something different today. The scene wasn’t going to end with me being seduced into his bed. Been there, done that (really wanted to do it again). But no. I was on a different mission. One of self-respect… a few hours after my walk of shame.

My gaze locked on Dion, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world narrowed to just the two of us.

I felt the heat of his body even from a distance. The power that radiated off of him made my skin prickle. No matter how much my body wanted to close the distance between us, my heart wasn’t on the same page. It had already shattered.

He was standing tall, looking effortlessly regal in his dark attire, eyes gleaming with that knowing, confident glint that had probably always gotten him what and who he wanted.

That gaze was aimed at me. There was a flicker of emotion in his gaze. It wasn’t an apology. No regret.

I took a step forward, my legs feeling like they were made of stone. The words I’d been holding back came rushing to the surface, and before I could stop them, I was accusing him.

“It’s me. I’m Niamh. I’m your fated mate.”

“What did she say?” Came a loud whisper from the peanut gallery.

“She said she was King Dion’s fated mate.”

“What’s her name?”

“She didn’t say.”

“I know who you are, Niamh,” said Dion.

“Sure you do.” I sucked my teeth in disbelief. It was an unladylike sound, but I wasn’t here to impress anybody. “That’s why you slept with another woman.”

“No,” he said calmly. “I didn’t.”

There was such certainty in his voice that I almost believed him. What a fool that would make me. Believe his false words instead of my lying eyes.

“Yes, you did,” I hissed.

“No, I did not.”

“Yes, you did. I was there.”

“What are they saying?” came another call from the hall.

“It sounds like the king had a threesome, and one of the girls was his fated mate.”

“Wait, you can have threesomes after you’re mated?”

I chose to ignore the spectators. The courtiers, the servants, and the quiet whispers of onlookers who were not getting the story straight that was unfolding before their very eyes. But there was one person in the room whose reaction I couldn’t overlook.

Oz stood there, looking between the two of us like he was caught in a tug-of-war. His gaze flicked from Dion to me and back again, his body tense, indecisive. The silence between us stretched out, thick with anticipation, but Oz didn’t speak.

His loyalty was clear—he was Dion’s best friend first. Bros before hoes, right? Bro-code or not, Oz wasn’t going to lie to me. His silence was his answer.

“Can we talk about this in private?” Dion asked, lowering his voice as though he finally realized we had an audience.

“There’s no need to talk about anything. This weekend is not about us. It’s about Stella. Let’s just get through the wedding.”

“Okay, fine.” Dion took two steps to me until we were toe to toe. His big body shut out the view of the people in the hall. His hot breath went straight up my nostrils and down to my core. Goddess, I wanted his tongue on me again.

“We’ll get through the wedding, and then you’ll let me explain.”

“No.” I took a step back, holding up my hands between us. “I don’t want to hear any more of your lies. I’m not here for you. I’m here for my friend.”

“Niamh—”

“I came in here to reject you.”

Gasps sounded through the gallery behind me. The peanuts were popping around like they’d just been tossed in a fire to roast. Dion looked like I’d just burned him. His brows were drawn, lips pursed, nostrils flaring.

“I’m going to do it. I’m doing it right now. I reject you. There: I did it.”

His eyes looked pained. But I had to be imagining that. He was a cheater, a cheater who’d been caught in the act. I knew this for a fact because I’d been his costar last night.

“I knew she was you, Niamh.”

“Liar.”

How could he have known? I’d looked nothing like myself when he took fake me to bed. I mean, I hadn’t looked like the woman he’d met in the woods. I hadn’t given him my name back then. There was no way he could’ve known the real me and fake me were the same person. He was lying.

My heart beat hard in my chest. I shushed it. But rapid thumps echoed in my ear. Looking down at my feet, I focused on the cold marble there. I felt dizzy, off balance, untethered. This was the right thing, wasn’t it?

I have no idea how long it took me to steady myself. When I looked up, Dion’s eyes were locked on to mine, searching for something. I couldn’t give him anything. I had no idea what he wanted. Other than for me to believe his lie, which I was not going to do.

“I was just another notch for your belt, right? Just another woman you can take and throw away when you’re bored.”

“That’s not true.”

“Why should I believe you when I caught you in a lie?”

“A lie you trapped me in.”

“Oh, so you’re going to blame the trap. You stepped into it. A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”

“I’m a panther. I don’t have spots.”

His jaw tightened. In real time, it was as though the pleading went out of him. He straightened his spine, and I knew I wasn’t looking at Dion the lover, I was looking at King Dion, the warrior, the monarch.

“You always planned to run, no matter what,” he said, his tone harder now.

He’d said the word run . To my ears, it sounded like rejection . I’d never been a chosen one. I’d been a girl for the moment. I never let anyone get too close to me. Not even him. I never would. I always dumped the guys, whether I caught them cheating or not. I always left first.

“So go ahead, Niamh. Run.”

Dion’s posture remained unchanged. But his energy, the way the air shifted around him, felt heavier. Dangerous. It felt like no matter which way I moved, I was going to end up in a trap. The space between us was cold, like a void opening up, threatening to swallow me whole.

I couldn’t breathe properly. I wanted to dive into him. He’d been so warm when he’d been inside me. But I couldn’t give in. I wasn’t even sure if that was on the table any longer, not with that hard glare.

I was standing still, but I felt like I was running. Fleeing from the reality that I couldn’t control. It wasn’t just Dion I was running from; it was everything.

But why the hell would I give him the satisfaction of doing what he said?

I turned on my heel. I didn’t run. I walked out of the throne room door and away from my fated mate, just as I’d always planned to do.