Page 34 of Shadow

Thick pork chops, green beans, and rolls still steaming from the oven rested on the table. The layout looked like a picture from one of those old magazines I tortured myself with in my quarters back home.

Food like this had become mythical. In the Federation compound, steam only rose from food if we burned it, and even then, it did nothing to improve the taste. I usually ate cold rations so I could choke them down and forget the meal as quickly as possible. Eventually, I had stopped flipping through those magazines because the pictures of food were too cruel a tease.

Forcing my gaze away from the feast, I sneaked a glance at King. Just a quick peek, enough to gauge his mood without risking prolonged eye contact. He was watching me, waiting for an answer to his question about why I put myself down.

I ignored him a moment longer as I took my seat, placing the provided napkin in my lap with exaggerated care. Finally, I glanced up, this time holding his gaze a little longer. His eyes were annoyingly captivating, and it frustrated me that I couldn’t stare at them without ruffling his delicate beast feathers.

“I put myself down because I don’t kid myself into thinking I’m more than I am,” I said, meeting his question head-on.

His voice dropped. “What are you?”

His face was so serious, as if he were asking a real question. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.

Being around King felt like standing in the path of a tsunami, an unstoppable force of nature leaving destruction inits wake. It was in his eyes, his commanding posture, and the arrogance woven into every movement. Even his name screamed it.King.King the God.

I was so tired of all this, and it had only been five days.

I glanced down at the food on my plate, letting out a breath before giving him the unvarnished truth.

“I was a human weakling without ambition. I could happily stay at my job, put in ten-hour days, and read at night to keep myself entertained.”

Then I glanced back up, this time locking onto his stare and refusing to look away.

“You were dangerous,” King muttered, almost too low to hear.

The words hung in the air, daring me to flinch.

But I didn’t.

“Dangerous how?” I asked, genuinely curious. Why did he think that?

We held each other’s gaze, the moment stretching out like a taut wire ready to snap. I could swear the temperature in the room had risen a few degrees. His eyes were like ice, challenging me in ways I didn’t fully understand.

Some irrational part of me wanted to stab him with my fork just to break the tension.

I had never been violent. I hated bloodshed, even though I knew it was part of the world we lived in.

But right now, punching King square between those icy blue eyes or flattening his not-quite-perfect nose sounded just as satisfying as stabbing him with that fork.

Hell, even imagining ripping his head off felt oddly gratifying.

Those thoughts were wrong, but they were there, tearing their way into my mind and pushing out the old Marinah.

King and I seemed to bring out the worst in each other.

My thoughts drifted back to the first day when he licked the blood from my scraped palm and slow, electric tingles rippled across my skin.

I would lickhisblood after stabbing him.

God. Why would I even think that?

I covered my face with my hands, breathing deeply to steady myself. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t this person, or at least, I didn’t think I was, but right then, it was hard to believe otherwise.

When I finally dropped my hands, King was watching me with unsettled intensity.

“I’m dominant,” he said suddenly, his voice low as he rubbed the scar on his face. “My men are too. When someone looks us in the eye, it’s a challenge to our superiority.”

“Superiority?” I bristled with annoyance. His words made it sound like he thought he wasinherentlybetter than humans, and my hackles rose.

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