The Irish's Sanity

Chapter Twenty Four

I moved to the fireplace craving to read a good book, I had picked a few from the library earlier on and left them on the table so I would just pick one after I was done and read in front of the fireplace. This was one of my favourite places in this house. I looked at the burning flames before me reminding me of my sisters eyes and the fire that always brewed in them before I turned around looking at the books I had picked -laid out on the table.

It was hard to read dark romance because it hit too close to home but the other genres seemed to lack something to me -I was also demented I understood that, the only thing close enough to keep me interested was a fantasy at least for now. The hairs at the back of my neck suddenly stood as I stilled with my hand across a book I was about to reach for. His presence was like nothing I have ever felt ever before.

I took in a deep breath before turning around, my eyes trailed to the man who stood in the door way in one of his signature black suits that were well fitted around him. Lachlan was a neat man so I didn't expect any less from his appearance. From his dress shoes to his hair, he was always neat. His features sharp and madly deceiving. Green against brown. I could tell that I was the only one internally panicking as his eyes slowly looked me over.

Him standing beside the doorway just proved how much of a giant he was. Even if I was to fight him how in the world would I get around him- the thought of duelling with him made me gulp, one thing I have observed from being around him was that he didn't have the human element in his eyes as the rest of normal people.

They were completely dark- at first I thought I was maybe comparing him to people and he was obviously insane so I held him in comparison to his siblings - as much as they also lacked in the light that was supposed to be there and that human element, they had a tiny speck -Lachlan on the other hand had nothing.

My eyes wondered to the flowers draped in his one hand. Even though he held them correctly one could tell that they didn't belong there they looked so foreign in his 'murder-y' hand. One of his hands were in his pants pockets. Just by his presence alone the whole atmosphere in this room has changed.

I couldn't stop thinking about how easily he could kill me after what he recently did to me. At a certain point I really thought I would die -as he tortured me his voice held no sympathy or concern whatsoever- as I tried to hang on to the last thread as I felt myself slip away. His intent was bringing me pain and torture. My throat would dry up whenever my mind would wonder to the painful memory.

"Mo Grá." It carried so much of weight. Such simple words yet they pierced through me each time.

Even the way that he looked at me scared me -it was in a way that my inner self assured me he would never let me go- I would have to die first. Instinctively I pressed myself against the table instead of moving back in fear -he didn't take much pleasure in me moving away from him and because I couldn't physically get myself to stop when he was approaching me -prey predator instincts. I just pressed myself against the table. I didn't want to make him mad.

I tried to control my steady breathing with my eyes shut -I could feel him in front of me. The man refused to spend a minute away from me if we were in the same room- another thing I have learned about him. As if on instinct I felt his hand around me, the only space between us was held by the flowers. My heart was already racing.

"Lachlan." It took everything in me to open my eyes and watch him this close. I still needed to get used to him after the first time he traumatised me he wasn't around as much I had time to recover but now he wasn't away enough.

His hand was suddenly on the back of my throat holding me in place as he kissed me making my running mind stop.

"I apologise for not coming back to you and missing dinner." He said -he did things as if I was the most important person in his life.