Page 50 of A Deal with the Shadow King

“Don’t flatter yourself, kitten,” he cuts in, the usually endearing pet name dry and brittle. “I’m immortal. I’ve kissed a thousand women before you, and there’ll be a thousand more.”

My jaw opens and closes, my belly clenched tight as though I’ve swallowed a mouthful of ash. A thousand women… It puts things into much-needed perspective, and my anger for this unholy world returns full-force.

“A thousand women and no wife, you’re a real…pussy monger.” Heat sears my cheeks at my language, but I force a deep breath in.

That’s what I overheard Esme call a duke who had many mistresses and no wife, but I don’t know what possessed me to say such a thing. It’s incredibly crude.

One clearly didn’t expect me to talk back to him, probably hoping to shock me into silence, but him and his thousand women can piss off. Instead of fleeing, I walk over to him and stare until he stands.

He stretches to his full height, the oh-so-important parchment discarded in a flash. “Don’t push me.”

A piece of my soul rises to the occasion, craving more, and it frightens me. I’m so hot, I can hardly breathe. My mind is caught inside the countless stories I’ve read growing up, my imagination on fire. “Push you? What are you going to do? Enchant me again? Make me undress for you? Dance for you?”

The brazen questions echo across the stacks, and my heart beats in my throat.

One pinches on a loose, white-blond wave between his index finger and thumb and follows it down to the valley between my breasts. “If I’d wished it so, you would have danced for me until your paws were bloody, kitten. But that’s not what happened, is it?” he says quietly.

We’re hanging by a thread. I only wish I could see his eyes in this moment. I’m sure they would reveal all his secrets.

Lori’s booming voice shatters the moment. “Yes, it’s the only original copy we have. The very last one,” she enunciates loudly. “You couldn’t hope for a better reference on the subject.”

My gaze darts to the third floor where a wide-eyed Lori glares at us over a row of books. She makes a frenzied horizontal gesture under her chin behind the customer’s back, the motion clearly begging for us to cut it out.

One grips a fist of his hair as he retreats several feet toward the front door. A moment later, Lori climbs down the staircase with her customer in tow. She ushers the Fae lady to the librarian desk, and I recognize her from the banquet.

One forces an unnatural cheer to his demeanor and hurries off to greet his peer. “Isobel, how nice to run into you here.”

Isobel offers him her hand to kiss. “We’ve missed you in Umbra, One. You promised to visit more.”

He presses his lips to her knuckles, and the fake warmth in his answer is seamless enough to appear real. “Alas, the king needs me here.”

Isobel Umbra is a tall and beautiful High Fae. A crown of braid holds her dark hair up, a feminine golden mask with jade specks resting on her small nose. My studies have taught me that she’s the first lady of Umbra, one of the five shadow realms.

One chats her up with an easy smile. “Are you in the mood for a stroll through the gardens?”

“With you? Always,” she answers longingly.

My teeth grit together as the two of them leave the library arm in arm, and Lori grimaces apologetically. “I interrupted something, didn’t I?”

I blink a few times too many, the anger from before still running hot in my veins. “You could say that.”

“Isobel is about the worst gossip of the Shadow Court. I couldn’t let her see you two like this. One looked about ready to tackle you down and tear your clothes off.”

I swallow hard, appalled by her analysis, and yet I can’t quite deny it.

My friend scurries to the main entrance and quietly retrieves the triangular piece of wood holding the door open. She slips it inside the big front pocket of her hooded sweater before spinning around to face me.

“Spill. What’s going on with your training?” She plays with the two cords of fabric sticking out of her hood. “I’ve never seen One so worked up before.”

“He’s infuriating.”

She winces at that, and I can tell by her reaction that I’ve just said the wrong thing.

“You shouldn’t get involved with him.” She crosses her arms and looks to the ceiling. “Listen…the seeds who’ve gotten too close to one of the triplets, they’ve all—” she stops abruptly.

A line of fear crawls along my spine. “Tell me. Please.”

Her clear eyes pulse under the glow of the chandeliers. “They’ve all vanished overnight, Nell.”

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