Page 18 of Shadow

King took a bite of his pie, and I lifted the fork to my lips. The warm cinnamon apples and crust slid down my throat, and a small moan escaped me. He smiled, and I was struck again by how it changed his face from scary toalmosthandsome again.

I concentrated on my pie and ate the entire piece. If King had tried to take it, I would have stabbed him with my fork.

So delicious.

The best thing I had eaten in years and no comparison to the occasional stale packaged snacks my father had brought home. Thank God the pants I was wearing stretched and had a tie I could adjust. I was stuffed and content.

At the feel of King’s heavy gaze, I glanced slowly upward.

His smile from a few minutes before was gone. The stark lines of his face were more prominent, making him appear almostangry.My fingers trembled when I nervously reached for my water glass.

He moved so quickly that I couldn’t pull away. His large hand wrapped around my wrist before I could touch the glass. I glanced from his hand to his eyes, and if I hadn’t been sitting, I would have stepped back from his fierce expression.

He looked ready to kill.

Chapter Eight

King

Watching Marinah eat with such uninhibited pleasure stirred something unexpected in me.

Her wide-eyed enjoyment had been genuine, almost childlike, and for a moment, I forgot she had been sent here as a pawn in the Federation’s endless manipulations.

She had no idea her government’s narrative about food shortages was pure crap.

I had seen what their leaders ate, and it was nothing like the garbage they had fed us during the war.

Sure, they stockpiled and rationed some of their crops, but the best had always gone to the privileged few.

That had been one of the reasons I respected her father.

Farris Church had eaten the same rations as his troops, no matter how revolting.

He hadn’t had to lead men into battle, either. He could’ve stayed behind a desk, directing strategies from safety.

But he had chosen to be on the front lines, and his death had been the ultimate testament to his loyalty and humanity.

He had earned our respect, and I’d admit, his daughter showing up here had complicated things.

She was an enigma.

How loyal was she to the Federation? How much of her father’s integrity ran in her blood? There had been no easy answer.

I was American, like her.

I grew up on a farm, raised by a father who had done his best to prepare me for a future I couldn’t begin to imagine.

For ten years, I thought I was just another kid. Then, on my eleventh birthday, everything changed. I would never forget the day my father sat me down and told me the truth. I thought it was some elaborate joke, even though he hadn’t been a man prone to humor. When he stripped off his clothes and transformed into something out of a horror film, my world shattered.

Love for him hadn’t stopped me from running away in terror. I shoved my dresser in front of my bedroom door, leaned against it, and refused to come out. He waited until I had collapsed from exhaustion, then pushed the door open and carried me to bed.

The fear I felt in those first weeks had been suffocating, but the fear eventually gave way to anger. I wanted to be like the other kids at school, to have a normal life. Instead, I was some alien species, hiding who I was from the world. I resented my father for keeping the truth from me. Everything changed, and I was pulled out of school to be taught at home.

My life turned upside down.

Instead of math and English, I learned how to control a body that had seemed hellbent on tearing itself apart. I spent hours meditating to suppress sudden bursts of rage. And always, I had to practice hiding the monster within.

That was what Marinah didn’t understand. The creature she met earlier wasn’t just a part of me.

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