Page 17 of How to Claim A Shadow King

“The fact that you have to ask is incredibly troubling.” I pause, looking into one of the rooms beyond. Sure enough, there is a dining table. The house itself seems to exhale, a contented, welcoming sigh vibrating through the heavy masonry, and I breathe a quick sigh of relief.

“As troubling as my battle lingerie?” he asks.

I stumble slightly, coughing quickly to disguise my laugh.

Warmth surrounds my arm as his fingers close around it, catching me before I lose my balance. When I look up at Malakai, there’s something mischievous in his eyes, a spark I hadn’t seen there before.

My pulse thrums against my neck.

“I don’t think anything is quite so troubling as your lack of understanding about what constitutes formal dress.”

“It’s good to know it’s captivated your attention so thoroughly, Aveline.”

I make another strangled, noncommittal sound, but from the way half his lips quirk into a smile, I know he thinks he’s won this round of conversation.

I narrow my eyes.

We’re only just getting started.

7

MALAKAI

Ishould stop being surprised by anything the little witch says at this point, but my bride-to-be continually confounds me.

Aveline professes to be distressed at my ceremonial armor, but the look in her eyes when her gaze brushes against my bare chest is anything but dismayed.

It is interest, and heat, and I’ll be damned if I put something else on tonight, just to have her look at me like that longer.

“Do you know what a shadow-wyrm is, Aveline?” I ask her, needing a reason to hear her speak again. Needing her to look at me.

“No, and I also did not know where the dining room is, but lo and behold, I’ve found it.” Her pretty eyes narrow. “No thanks to you.”

That surprises me. “You’ve dined here hundreds of thousands of times.”

Aveline stops short as she regards me icily. Until, that is, her gaze drops lower—then that heat blooms there again, turning her cheeks a lovely rose.

She is beautiful, this bride of mine, and it strikes me right to the heart.

I have loved her over a thousand lifetimes, a thousand times, but this is the first I’ve seen this version of her, and for that?

I am lucky.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she says, and I can tell from the way her lip trembles that I’ve offended her somehow.

Again.

“Because you are…” I trail off, every comparison inadequate. There are no words for how I feel about this woman. “You are mine.”

Her eyes flash with anger, and I realize I’ve misspoken yet again.

I may know her soul, recognize the very fiber of her existence, but I do not know her.

Yet.

She’s silent, and I step towards her, wanting to hold her, wanting her to understand.

I am herding her toward the table, but her posture i anything but tame.