Page 81 of A Deal with the Shadow King

“I’m sorry,” I whisper quickly. “I got lost.”

“You should be in bed, where you belong. The sun is about to rise. It’s dangerous to be out here—” He hauls me along the dark corridor, his hand stiff around my upper arm.

“Don’t tear my arm off for nothing. It’s only your brothers and Mara?—”

He lets me go and rakes his hand through his dark hair like he wants to tear it out of his skull. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

The motion leaves his waves all disheveled, like the night of the hunt, and I dry off my sweaty palms on the front of Lori’s hoodie. “Why? Would it get your brothers in trouble to bed the king’s seeds?”

I wonder what he’s doing here, dressed like this—Wait…

“Were you about to join them?” I ask out loud without really meaning to, my heart racing, my inhibitions lowered by the wine.

He squints, clearly taken aback by my question. “What?”

“When you caught me. Were you about to join them?” I repeat quickly, my words slurring together.

If the Fae usually take a lover on Foghar… it makes sense.

The corners of his mouth curl down, telling me I’ve struck a chord. Before I can move, he grabs my jaw with his right hand, the move unexpected and bold. My stomach flip-flops, and the muscles in his arms tighten as he takes a good sniff. “You’re drunk.”

An itch between my shoulder blades prickles my skin, and tears threaten to leak into my eyes. “Why would you want to bed Mara of all people? You said you couldn’t get involved with me.”

He laughs—the sound dry and unkind. “She’s nothing like you.”

“Oh? Go ahead then!” I yell way too loud not to be heard inside the room, not caring if my bluff is blatantly apparent, my heart in smithereens.

One clasps my wrist and pulls me deeper into the tunnels and away from his fucking brothers. “Let’s get you to bed, you’re wasted—and acting like a child.”

He manhandles me along the slanted corridors, and each turning corner calms the storm inside me. I glance at my escort sideways. If he was about to join them, he’s not going to, now. I’m not sure how I can be so certain of it, but I am, and the weight pressing on my chest eases.

Shadows engulf us in darkness, the illusion powerful enough to fool the sprites, and the few servants we cross paths with are oblivious to our presence. When I brace myself on the wall for balance, the wine thick in my blood, One picks me up in his arms.

I hide my face in his chest and wipe a treacherous tear with the sleeve of Lori’s hoodie. The scent of pears and smoke tickles the roof of my mouth, the hint of musk underneath making me quiver. No matter what logic dictates, my body craves the touch of the dark Fae. I long for it the way frenzied cows crave the safety of a burning barn, heading to disaster.

Once in my room, he lays me down on the bed, but I wrestle against his hold to sit up. “I’m not tired.” I grip a fist of his black t-shirt, and my other hand sneaks under the hem of fabric to touch his stomach.

Quick as lightning, he takes hold of my wrists and shackles them above my head. The back of my skull hits the pillow, and the hoodie rises up over the waistband of my underwear.

One’s nostrils flare, and he presses me down to the mattress with his weight. “Bad, bad kitty.”

I shudder from head to toe, wishing he’d kiss me already, his riding stance on my thighs absolutely scandalous. It’d be so easy for him to slide his long hands under the hem of the big sweatshirt and feel my waist, my stomach, my breasts… so easy…

“Kiss me,” I breathe, half-mad.

“Hmph. Sleep the wine off, kitten, or by the spindle, I will enchant you to sleep.” He presses my wrists harder into the duvet to emphasize his point, and I offer him a pout that would put any spoiled four-year-old to shame.

“You wear your threats like armor, but you don’t mean them. Not when it comes to me.”

He lowers his voice, his nails digging into the supple flesh of my arms. “Don’t be so sure. A couple of my previous threats sound fucking good to me right now.” Inhaling deep, he places a sweet kiss at the angle of my jaw, and my chest heaves in longing.

“Goodnight,” he whispers before jumping from the bed. He dumps the bulk of the covers over my naked legs and spins around to leave.

“Wait!” I call after him. “Why did you miss the ball? You should have been there.” My intoxicated gut tells me the king wouldn’t have acted so brazenly in his presence.

One pauses and grips the doorknob. It’s a long pause that tells me he’s about to skirt around the truth. “You already know why you didn’t see me there.”

The door closes behind him with a loud thud, and I groan out loud. His scent fills my lungs, and my skin burns, craving more. The sight of his naked brothers branded me, and the hold of the Shadow King lingers on my shoulder blade.

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