Page 101 of A Deal with the Shadow King

One presses our joined hands to my heart, and we both stare at each other for a moment. “Your magic has grown beyond anything I’d imagined. Don’t you feel it?” His voice is low and almost…hungry.

The pressure of his hand on my chest mollifies my legs. “I do…”

“You have more magic than me right now.” Wicked tremors quake him, but his gaze flicks to my lips.

“What you did out there took a lot out of you.”

“It cost me everything.” He leans in and rests his forehead on mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he reaches for the doorknob with his free hand and pushes me inside. The lock clicks behind us, and the sound brands my neck with gooseflesh.

The contrast between the death and terror we just witnessed outside and this oasis of safety is maddening.

“Remove your shirt so I can take a better look at this.” He motions to my injured shoulder, and I bite the insides of my cheeks.

Did he truly only come in here with me to deal with the venom?

The adrenaline from the attack fizzles out, and a heavy ache blossoms in my arms and legs. I take stock of the bite and realize it’s much worse than I’d thought. “Can you heal it?”

His breath stirs the hair that escaped my loose braid. “Not without supplies.”

“Why not? I healed you from a dreamcatcher cut before,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“And that was no small feat in itself, but my wound wasn’t full of venom. Lie down so I can get to work.” He removes his jacket, discards it at the foot of the bed, and motions for me to lie over the duvet.

I sit and peel off my shirt, but the sports bra underneath shields me from his gaze. The nasty shape of the venom burn coaxes a wince out of me. Black veins snake from the wound, the poison slowly creeping under my skin, and my stomach clenches.

“By the Mother!” I reach out to touch the sensitive flesh only to grimace at the pain. The slight pressure is torture, and my eyes dart over to One, full of fear. “It’s already spreading.”

“Don’t worry, kitten. It’ll be better in a few minutes,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you fought with me all the way over here. It must hurt like the seven hells.”

Now that I’m not half as panicked as before, it does burn and itch like fire fleas. “I was too mad at you to notice.”

His lips twitch. “I got that.”

He lights the candles on the dresser with a flick of the wrist and knocks on the mirror. A few seconds later, Baka flies in with a mortar and pestle in one hand and a few other supplies bunched under her arm.

The sprite’s gaze bounces from me to the dark Fae, and she bows in reverence. “I just heard about the attack. Do you want me to tend to her, Samhain?”

One dismisses her offer with a kind smile. “No need. I’ll stay. Take care of the others, Baka.”

The sprite draws in a breath, her pink eyes full of velvet and sunshine. “Consider it done.” The tenderness in her tone sends warm shivers through my body.

One removes his mask and sets it on the nightstand. The soft glow of the waning fire fills the silence, and Two’s earlier claim echoes in my ears. One hates Damian. He’d be willing to steal you away from any king, but he can’t. At least not alone…

“Is Samhain your real name?” I ask.

One doesn’t miss a beat as he mixes the herbs with an oily elixir. “No. In ancient Fae, Samhain means darker half.” He warms the contents of the mortar over the embers. The rescue might have drained his magic, but he’s still mesmerizing.

The light of the fire caresses his proud jaw, and a hint of sweat beads over his split brow.

“Why did you not want them to know how exhausted you were out there? Why hide it?” I ask.

“I can’t afford to be weak right now.” He stirs the mixture again and returns it to the fire. “The king needs you safe now more than ever. He can’t afford to lose the bet if you die. You have to go home, Nell. Until Morheim starts.”

My eyes widen. “I thought the king wanted me here for the first Morheim moon?”

From my perspective, the chances that this attack will change the king’s designs toward me are null. If anything, he’s going to need my magic even more.

Shadows flicker over One’s pensive face, playing hide and seek with his cheekbones. “Who knows what the king wants anymore…”

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