Page 4 of Shadow

The exhale came next, and warm breath ghosted across my cheek and neck. An undeniable shiver raced down my spine. The faint noise he made, a low, guttural sound, sent my nerves spiraling.

He was fucking sniffing me, for God’s sake.

And now I smelled him, too. The scent was sharp, tangy, and unlike anything I had ever encountered. Not unpleasant, just different.

I had no idea what the proper etiquette was for being sniffed by a Shadow Warrior, and my nerves pulled the grin from my face. As his head dipped lower, it dawned on me. He was looking down my blouse.

“I think you’ve smelled enough,” I snapped, irritation eclipsing any trace of common sense. I took another step back, putting some much-needed space between us.

His nostrils flared, his sharp gaze pinning me in place as he rose to his full, intimidating height. Nothing about him suggested safety. Not his dusty boots, which I had already been intimately acquainted with, nor the sheer, towering presence that forced me to crane my neck to glimpse the top of his head. Everything about King radiated untamed power, a barely leashed death machine in human form.

His granite jaw was clean-shaven, but it did little to hide the animal lurking behind his intelligent, piercing eyes. His long braids, a mix of blonde and brown, were tied neatly at the back of his neck, fanning out over his broad, bare shoulders. At least there was nothing crawling around in them. That was one positive.

My second glance caught a faint, jagged scar trailing down his right cheekbone, a detail I had missed earlier in mypanic. It only added to his unyielding, deadly aura. The wordimmovableflickered through my overtaxed brain, alongsidelethal.His chest was massive, each breath making the muscles shift and bulge beneath his skin. The leather harness stretched taut across his torso sat just below his nipples, as if its purpose was to emphasize his already overwhelming presence.

Let’s be clear: King didn’t need help looking badass. If he had a middle name, it wasBadass.

The harness was loaded with weapons: two handguns, several knives, and a sword that looked like it could cleave a human in half with a single swing. His belt held even more guns and knives, an overkill arsenal for someone who could probably destroy multiple people with one swing of his fist.

He was a living, breathing killing machine, and I couldn’t help the thought that flitted through my mind.Does he grunt when he speaks?

Bad Marinah, I mentally scolded myself. But the thought lingered.

I awkwardly pulled my outstretched hand back to my side, anxiety prickling my skin. King’s eyes followed the movement, drifting downward to my lower half.

Great. Now he was staring.

I had always been self-conscious about my long torso, narrow hips, and a backside that was decent but not exactly runway-worthy.

Trying to distract myself, I flipped my palm upward and noticed a faint trail of blood from my tumble down the stairs.

Before I could process it, King’s massive hand reached out. Without thinking, I extended my injured hand, a reflex I immediately regretted. His grasp was firm, almost crushing. Not a handshake. Not even close. He lifted my arm, his sharp eyes locked on the raw wound, and then he leaned in and sniffed my hand.

What happened next nearly stopped my heart.

His tongue, thick, rough, and warm, slid across my palm, licking the blood away. The sensation sent a jolt of heat up my body, and I blinked twice, frozen in place. Mortification hit like a freight train, and I jerked back, trying to pull my hand free.

He didn’t let go.

Instead, he tightened his grip and studied my hand with unnerving focus, as if I were some peculiar specimen he was examining under a microscope. Just as I was about to muster something snarky, his tongue darted out again, dragging another slow, deliberate lick across my palm.

A flash of warmth rushed through me, confusing and unwelcome, and I was seconds away from dropping to my knees. Not to kiss his boots, but to rethink every life decision that had led me here.

Then, mercifully, reason slammed back into place.

“Stop that!” I snapped, my voice sharp and high-pitched. “Let me go. Now.”

Apologies? Not happening. I had never dealt directly with Shadow Warriors before, but I was confident this wasn’t some kind of formal greeting. At least, not for humans. Maybe for animals.

That thought earned an immediate mental reprimand. Reducing them to animals was exactly what had landed the U.S. in this mess to begin with.

King released my hand without a word and stepped back, his intense, unreadable gaze doing nothing to quell my simmering frustration. Then, as if dismissing me entirely, he pivoted and stalked away.

“Come,” he barked over his shoulder, the single gruff word echoing in the humid air.

Yep. He grunted.

Chapter Three

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