Page 57 of Deception
Iclose my eyes and take a calming breath outside the training room door. My mouth dries at the thought of being alone with Adrian, and my mind works to remember the last time that happened. My heart picks up its pace, pounding hard against my chest.
“Do you want me to go in with you?” Maximus grumbles, his words sounding annoyed, yet I see concern creasing his emerald eyes. I shake my head and give him a grateful smile. His arm curls around me, pressing me into his chest. I inhale deeply, letting his familiar scent of cedar and cloves wash over me.
I gingerly push out of his hold, half of my heart not wanting to leave him just yet, while the other half yearns to see Adrian, to work towards repairing things between us.
As though seeing that internal struggle, he takes a step back, leaving me no choice but to go inside. Instead, I lean up, giving him a parting kiss on his nose before darting to the door. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath, but I tune it out, knowing he secretly loves it.
I swing open the door, keeping my spirits high, that is until I catch Adrian pacing the small training room, his hands rigidly folded behind his back.
He freezes at the sight of me, his head lifting from the ground. He lifts his hand to rub nervously at his neck as he clears his throat, awkwardly darting his gaze around the room. My spirits dim slightly, hating how things have gotten between us. But at least he’s in the same room. That’s a start, right?
“We should begin,” he says abruptly and moves to the other side of the room. I follow him cautiously, unsure if he meant for me to move with him. He extends his hand, producing two burgundy wingback chairs, and motioning for me to take a seat. I swallow thickly, my gaze moving between the two chairs, remembering my first day here and the room he brought me to. Despite me freaking out at the upheaval of my entire worldview, he still attempted to get me to sit next to him on a couch. The difference and the space that has grown between us is jarring. I want nothing more than to spill all the thoughts running through my mind, to pull his chiseled body against mine and apologize for everything. But that wouldn’t be fair to him.
I sigh, perching on one of the plush velvet seats, and he takes the other. He glances at me briefly before darting his gaze away, but for a moment, I swear I see the same sorrow that eats away at my gut.
Before my chicken heart can work up the courage to say anything, he waves his hand, producing a basket full of items, and plucks an apple from the top. I eye him skeptically, and look from the basket and back to him in question. The small teasing grin is an echo of what it once used to be, but so close it sends a pang of longing straight to my chest.
He tosses the apple to me, and I inhale sharply, my hands flying up to catch it in midair. I turn it over in my hand, assessing the red, waxy skin, and hold it out from me, still unsure what is about to happen. I mean, he could very well turn this into a snake or something, couldn’t he? That would definitely freak me out but would be warranted if he hopes to get back at me in some way.
“It’s not going to bite you.” He chuckles, and I realize I miss the sound of his carefree, teasing laughter. A slight blush creeps to his cheeks at my attention, and I glance away, smiling slightly. I hold back the giggle that tries to bubble up, not wanting to break the tentative, easy conversation.
“Are you sure?” I ask skeptically, narrowing my eyes on it as though it’s about to sprout wings.
“Yes, it’s just an apple.” He huffs out a breath of amusement, shaking his head at my display. My smile brightens at his words, my spirits lifting at his increasingly playful banter.
He clears his throat as though just remembering this is supposed to be a lesson.
“To use the power of illusion, you have to channel that power outside of your body,” he explains, lifting from his seat. He steps behind his chair. As though needing to both put some distance between us and do something with the nervous energy I can see thrumming through him. His finger anxiously taps against the back of the plush fabric chair.
“Use your senses to map out the apple, its texture, its shape, its smell.” He pauses, letting me do what he asks. I run a finger up the waxy surface, observing the lines and curves. I examine the vibrant red exterior and the way the light reflects off its surface. I lift it to my nose, inhaling the sweet honey scent, mapping it out in my mind.
“Now, delve into that power while running those details over in your mind and push it out into your palm.”
I close my eyes, doing as he instructed. I pick out the details of the apple, imagining the shape, color, and texture along with the sweet honey smell. With that picture firmly set in my mind, I skim over my power, channeling it into my palm, willing it to create a replica of the original apple.
A weight presses against my palm, and my eyes flutter open. I pull the power back and take in the fully formed apple in my palm. I let the original fall to the ground, clutching my apple between my palms, staring at it lovingly as though it’s the most magnificent thing in the realm.
“Very impressive. May I?” Adrian asks, quirking an eyebrow at me. Looking at me as though I might just bite his hand off if he gets too close.
Reluctantly, I release it into his waiting palm, and he snaps it up, bringing it closer to his face to examine it. He brings it to his lips, his teeth sinking into the crunchy skin but it’s not juice I see running down his chin. No, the bite disintegrates in his mouth, leaving a trail of a gritty sand-like substance running from his mouth.
“I guess I should have mentioned the taste and texture inside too.” He chokes around the sand, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the remaining mess from his tongue. I stifle back my laugh.
“Let’s try something else,” he muses, rummaging around in the basket for a moment before pulling out a bowl of strawberries.
He plucks one from the bowl and hands it to me. His fingers brush against mine, and my breath catches in my throat, sending a jolt of desire up my spine. I tamp it down, knowing now isn’t the time, and look at the floor, not letting him see the building heat there.
I turn the berry over in my palm, noticing the smooth skin and the small indentations surrounding each of the seeds, the rough green leaves of the stem, the softness. With one good squeeze, I would have reddish pink juice running down my fingers. I bring it up to my nose, smelling the tangy sweetness.
“Good, now … ” he trails off. A new strawberry is poised in front of me. I look up at him from beneath my lashes to the slight grin which he tries to hide, then lean forward, wrapping my lips around it, my teeth lightly biting into its skin. The sweet juice drips as I chew the berry, examining its taste and texture in my mouth. I don’t miss the shudder of desire he suppresses, the way he watches my lips, and the trickle of juice my tongue darts out to catch.
He clears his throat and takes a step back, attempting to cover it up by stooping to place the bowl back in the basket.
I swallow the lump in my throat, along with the strawberry, and almost choke on it. I sputter, coughing against the large piece of strawberry slowly moving down my throat. Adrian produces a bottle of water and hands it to me, his brows creasing with worry as I wash it down, throwing my head back in a desperate attempt to clear my throat.
I cover my mouth.“Oops, I guess I forgot how to eat.” I chuckle, avoiding his probing gaze. The other strawberry is cradled in my palm, miraculously still intact. I give it a final look, before closing my eyes and picturing the red berry in my mind. I recall its features like I had with the apple, imagining the sweet smell and taste, how the juice slid over my tongue.
Using my power, I pull the image from my mind, imagining it in my other palm. My eyes pop open when a cool object presses into my skin. Smiling at the sight, I lift it up, surveying the two berries in either hand. I proudly pop up from my seat, presenting the magical strawberry to him. He grimaces at the sight, clearly remembering the taste of the apple on his tongue.