Page 17 of Shadow

He was so large that his hand completely dwarfed mine. His towering height felt almost oppressive. Even his sheer body mass made the room feel smaller, more enclosed. I wasn’t sure if I found it unsettling or oddly grounding. Meanwhile, I had never felt more awkward in my own skin, and that was saying something, while King seemed utterly at ease in his.

“Sit here, and I’ll serve,” he said, pulling out a chair for me.

The moment he released my hand, I sat abruptly, my legs giving way beneath me. The chair was simple, wooden, and surprisingly comfortable. Two place settings and several covered dishes sat in the center of the table. King removed one of the metal covers, and the aroma that wafted up made my stomach growl loudly in protest.

No,incredibledidn’t begin to describe it.

My mouth watered as I watched him lift a warm tortilla from a second dish and place it on my plate. He piled it high with incredible-looking chunks of what appeared to be grilled meat, caramelized onions, and vibrant red peppers.

Actual meat.

I had never asked what was in the Federation gruel we were forced to eat if we wanted to live. I had heard others mention ground dog. Any meat made me feel mentally sick, but I wanted to live, and to do that, I had to give up my vegetarian ways and never ask.

Without a word, King took his seat and watched me as I shamelessly broke all dining etiquette. I picked up the tortilla with both hands and took a bite. The flavor exploded on my tongue. My eyes fluttered shut as I savored every bit.Instant. Taste bud. Orgasm.

When I opened my eyes, I caught King watching me with an amused quirk tugging at the corner of his lips. I should have felt self-conscious, but all I could do was grin back.

“The vegetables are fresh, and this is real meat,” I said after swallowing.

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“Did I die today?”

King threw his head back, releasing a full-throated laugh that reverberated through the room. The sound softened the hard lines of his face, making him seem almost handsome. A surprising tingle ignited low in my belly, and I mentally slammed the brakes.No. Absolutely not. Cut that out, right now.

I forced a stilted smile, lifting the tortilla to my mouth for another bite, letting the delicious taste soothe my nerves. Happiness had been a rare commodity in my life since my father’s death. Every day since had been shadowed by fear and worry, a constant reminder that my time with the Federation as a dispensable worker was running out. When this mission was offered, it had felt like a chance to die doing something meaningful.

King’s smile lingered as he made two fajitas for himself, his movements surprisingly casual for someone so imposing. “I remember the rations your government supplied during the war,” he said between bites. “They were atrocious. I hoped things had improved.”

Talking about our food supply felt taboo, but my orders hadn’t been exactly detailed beyond apologizing and pleading for diplomacy. I took a sip from the crystal glass in front of me, savoring the clean water before responding. “Nothing’s changed. We still eat the horrible gruel they give us. Most of the food we manage to grow is dried, packaged, and added to food storage.A trivial amount goes into the gruel. I haven’t seen a fresh vegetable in years.”

“Shadow Warriors need large amounts of calories,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “We burn through them at a high rate, and it helps when the food is healthy.”

I finished my first fajita, and before I could reach for another, King made one for me and placed it on my plate. I blinked, momentarily thrown by him doing this unexpected gestureagain. Shadow Warriors had always seemed like the epitome of alpha dominance, part man, part Neanderthal. The idea of one serving me was disconcerting.

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely meaning it.

He only nodded as I lifted the next fajita to my mouth. For a while, neither of us spoke, both focused on eating. The room fell into an almost comfortable silence, broken only by the clink of silverware when another fajita was made.

I finished three and lost count of how many King put away. There was one more dish on the table. King moved our plates aside and lifted the lid. I almost fell from the chair.

Half an apple pie rested on the plate.

I salivated.

King cut the available pie in half and lifted the largest piece to a small, unused plate.

“I can’t possibly eat all that,” I said in desperation when he pushed it my way.

“Eat what you like. I’ll finish what’s left.”

He placed the other piece on his plate. I was almost afraid to taste it. Being here, in this room, reminded me of the time before the war. It was surreal. I wanted that time back, to wash my memory clean of death.

I wanted my long-ago friends back in my life, and most of all, I wanted my father.

A flickered image entered my head. It was my mother. I slammed it shut. Losing Dad had been hard but knowing that my mother’s life was given to save mine gutted me.

I snapped the thought closed and went back to eatingecstasy.

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