Page 40 of A Deal with the Shadow King

The king lowers his voice. “I told him not to get attached to strays, but he doesn’t listen. Look at him, so insolent. Pretending he’s not dying to touch you himself. What a joke.” Just as the Shadow King is about to squeeze the full and sensitive flesh of my breast and feel me up in front of his underling, he stops and kisses the back of my ear instead. “When we fuck, I’ll make him watch, and believe me…he’ll enjoy it.”

Holy horses.

“Now, walk into the pool,” the king adds, a hint of amusement at the tip of his wicked tongue.

The magic hold recedes, and I cross my arms over my breasts, each of my hands gripping the opposite shoulder. In three steps, I descend into the warm, silky black liquid, the pool deep enough for it to reach my belly button.

One gives me an encouraging nod. “Hold your breath for at least ten seconds before you come out, and try not to move. It won’t hurt, but it’s a bit unpleasant.”

The calm instructions keep me from crumbling. I inhale deep and sink inch by inch inside the shadow pool, grateful for the intimacy it procures. My heart pounds recklessly in my chest. The shadows embrace me like a mother cradles her child, the long braid at my back tossed over my shoulder by a soft ripple.

Thank the Mother he’s not allowed to force himself on me, but nothing prevents him from finding other ways to torture me.

The skin of my face prickles and burns, the sting not exactly painful but uncomfortable enough for me to wince as I count down from ten.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Five… A weight gathers at my brow, and I graze the edge of the thick mask.

Four… A sharp texture appears on it, the part covering my eyes no longer smooth, but spiky as though a few jeweled pieces are now sticking out of the stone.

Three. Two. One… The shadows pull me to the surface, quite literally spitting me back out, and I draw a sharp, delirious breath.

I can see through my newly crafted mask perfectly, as though I’m not wearing one at all, and my pupils adjust to the sudden intensity of the candlelight. Reaching inside the depths of my soul, I summon enough confidence to walk out of the pool with my head held high.

The thick substance sticks to my breasts and bottom half in strategic places like the shadows recognized my need for modesty and were happy to provide it. It’s not clothes, but it’s better than nothing.

I glare at the Shadow King, unwilling to show how much his disgusting stunt affected me. He shoves One hard with his shoulder on his way out of the vault, exiting through the mirror behind the dark Fae.

I let out a small whimper, surprised to see him leave so abruptly, and the tight knot in my stomach eases.

“Ugh. He’s an asshole.” One holds out a fluffy towel in front of him. “Here.”

I dig my heels in the ground. “And you think that’s enough of an explanation? That makes it all okay?”

“Everyone has to strip for the ritual, but it’s usually not so crowded…”

I wet my lips. “Lucky me.”

I’m not stupid. I can feel the pressure of his gaze on me. On my hips. My thighs. In the hollow of my neck, slipping dangerously close to my breasts…

“My eyes are up here, asshole,” I say, trying his slang on for size.

He barely holds in a laugh as he wiggles the white cloth from side to side. “The towel is right here. You chose not to take advantage of it.”

Ugh. I finally tip-toe over to him and let him wrap the piece of fabric around my frame. I’m still rattled by the whole ordeal, but One doesn’t curdle my blood like the Shadow King does. Quite the contrary.

I wonder if he’s really dying to touch me?

The tar-like residue from the pool now feels and smells like water, quickly absorbed by the towel, leaving my skin clean and smooth as a polished pearl.

One spins around to allow me some privacy, the stiffness in his spine gone, his long fingers rapping his thigh in a repetitive motion.

I slip my clothes back on and paw at my belly, still mortified by what happened, but with a little more countenance. “I don’t feel any different.” Curious, I peel the mask off my face and flip it in my hands.

A wave of emeralds travels from the corner of one eye and over the bridge of the mask’s nose only to spiral over its right cheek. The otherwise smooth gold mask is almost weightless despite the size of the stones.

Beautiful.

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