Page 43 of The Shattered Kingdom
Mason walks into the kitchen. “Then they’ll learn. Are you hungry?”
He pulls something wrapped in cloth out of a cabinet, and I inch forward as I realize it’s a loaf of fresh bread. I haven’t had breakfast, and the bread looks good. Mason grabs two plates, and I come to the painful realization that he has no idea how to cook as he places two slices of bread and a handful of fruit on each plate.
“I won’t cook for you,” I say. “Don’t think that because I’m your mate, I will become your personal chef.”
Mason stares me down. “Okay.”
He shoves a piece of bread into his mouth, and I do the same. Mason’s jaw shifts with each bite, the muscle clenching and unclenching. He has a nice, square jawline. I know several human men who would kill to have it.
Everything about Mason’s physical appearance is objectively nice, though. He’s big and strong and sometimes I just want to sink my teeth into him. Would he let me? He let me stab him, so I’m inclined to believe he would.
I should’ve never touched him. It was a mistake.
“What should I do with my bedroom?”
It takes me approximately ten business days to try to make sense of Mason’s question, and I still come up empty-handed.
“What?” I give in and ask.
Mason sighs, the noise dramatic and unnecessary, beforewalking down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. I absentmindedly follow him, still not understanding what he’s getting at.
“You refused to sleep in my room last night,” he says, opening his bedroom door. “Tell me what I need to change so you’ll sleep with me.”
I blink.
Mason is useless, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve being paired with him. Maybe I offended Zaha in another life, and this is her way of getting revenge. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” I say. “I don’t trust you. I frankly don’t even like you.”
And I mean it, too.
Mason rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to trust me to share a room with me. My bed is comfortable, my sheets are soft, and I am warm.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask, changing the subject. “Maybe a meeting to attend or a letter to write?”
“I’ll work better after a night of good sleep with my mate.” Mason pulls open his wardrobe doors and gestures to the clothing inside. “I’ll make room for you to put your dresses, and I won’t use them to masturbate.”
Oh, wow. I’m so fucking charmed. How kind of him to offer not to desecrate my clothing. I’ve never felt so lucky.
“I’ll sleep with you if you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness,” I say. “I want you to tell me how meaningless your life is without me and how ashamed you are of the way you treated me. Then I want you to suckle on my big toe while you call me ‘Daddy.’”
Mason slams his wardrobe drawers shut. He’s pissed.
“I’m being serious,” he says.
I’m sure he is. I don’t doubt that for a second, but that doesn’tmean I want to sleep with him. I understand and accept that it’s safest to stay here instead of the house I shared with Lill, but I’m happy with the condom-filled spare bedroom.
I take a seat on the edge of Mason’s bed. The shifter seems excited as I settle on the mattress, and I hold eye contact with him as I lift the hem of my dress up my thighs. I’m tired of him acting like I’m some object he can bark orders at and boss around.
If he wants to treat me like an object, I’ll treat him like one, too.
“If you’re so desperate to waste my time”—I sneer—“you might as well be useful.”
I’m surprised steam isn’t billowing out from Mason’s ears. That’s a sight I’d enjoy. He clenches his fists, his eyes narrowing. I’ve made him angry.
“Come on, now,” I taunt. “I don’t have all day.”
Mason steps away from the bed. “I don’t want to.”
