Page 31 of How to Claim A Shadow King

“You’re right,” Caelan agrees. “Some prefer if you spread their legs wide and⁠—”

“Enough,” I snarl, shadows crawling across the bar.

“He’s not talking about your witch, man, control yourself.” Ga’Rek stands, menace unmistakable.

"And for the love of the stars, fix yourself before she sees you," Caelen groans, practically twitching as he reaches across the bartop to violently poke at a loose strand of my hair. "If you try to court a duchess looking like the town drunk, I will personally bar you from my inn."

I offer the Fae a low, dangerous warning snarl, but my shadows track a sudden, distinct trail of golden warmth awakening upstairs, and the knot of tension beneath my ribs instantly tightens with anticipation.

"A day shopping," I repeat slowly. "I will purchase her whatever she likes. And perhaps a selection of Piper's pastries."

And I will do my level best not to think about spreading her legs and watching her come apart under my tongue.

"Now you're getting it," Caelen mutters, entirely self-satisfied as he picks his polishing rag back up. "Go put on some charm and normal clothes, Shadow King. And some soap, by the gods."

12

AVELINE

When I wake up, it's like coming out of a bad dream. Groggy, I look around the room, trying to figure out my surroundings as the reality of my situation comes crashing back down on me.

I slump back into my pillow.

Ah yes, I've been betrothed to an Elder God, a Shadow King named Malakai. I'm a witch, apparently. And I was attacked last night by some sort of Fae creature who shouldn't even be able to cross into this plane. Delightful.

I frown.

Where is Malakai? I can't imagine he's gone too far, since he seems utterly obsessed with me—or at the very least, obsessed with making me marry him. I sigh forlornly and throw my head back into the pillow. Hopefully he's changed into something more normal, because I don't think I can stand one more day of staring at all that bare chest. Not that I was staring or looking. Not that I noticed. I definitely didn't notice. “There was no noticing,” I say out loud.

A gentle rap sounds on the door and I startle. "Who's there?" I call out.

"It is I, your betrothed," a male voice calls back.

I pull the sheets up to my chin, not remembering at all how I even got into this bed last night. Slightly concerned, I peek down at myself under the covers and breathe a sigh of relief as I take in the sad state of the absolutely stunning dress I ruined last night. I'm also filthy, which isn't the greatest.

The door handle turns and Malakai walks into the room. I blink. He almost seems normal. He follows my gaze, glancing down at his own clothes—a fitted vest, a loose shirt over a pair of pants that do nothing to hide the muscles of his legs.

I divert my eyes. I really have to stop staring at him.

"How did you sleep?" he asks.

"I don't remember," I tell him honestly.

To my surprise, he smiles. "You fell asleep as soon as you walked into the room, face first on the bed," he adds. He doesn't quite seem to be making fun of me, but I'm not sure, so I simply blink up at him in complete confusion.

"Oh," I say. Clever as always, that’s me.

"What happened to my shoes?" I ask, swinging my legs out from underneath the bed. “My feet...” I trail off. They should be filthy like the rest of me, but they're not. In fact, they've been cleaned up and fresh bandages are on the sore places of my heel and toes where I ran through the delicate material of the slippers.

"They were hanging off the bed last night, and while I did not feel comfortable..." He clears his throat. "While I did not think you would feel comfortable with me tending to your wounds everywhere, I thought the least I could do was tend to these."

He does indeed look distinctly uncomfortable, and my heart softens for a split second. "Thank you," I tell him, oddly moved. "That was very kind of you."

"I want to take care of you," he says. "I don't think I've made that clear to you. And that is..." He pauses, shaking his dark head. He's braided back his lovely long hair, and dressed like this, I could almost forget that he's some sort of Eldritch being who is pure magic.

He looks like a handsome lord. Handsomer than any I’ve met, but not… an Elder God in ceremonial battle lingerie.

I clear my throat, shaking my head to dismiss the stray thoughts and focus on the task at hand. "Well, it was very kind of you," I repeat.