Page 7 of How to Claim A Shadow King

It only makes me more furious.

It certainly doesn’t mean that I’m ready to, well, whatever it is he thinks “mate” is with him.

“Why not?” he asks, staring at me, unblinking. Dark shadows begin to swirl around his ankles, on the tips of his fingers, turning near black with a⁠—

“You agreed to be here,” he adds. “You took my hand. You volunteered. You’re mine.”

My lips twist to the side as I try to explain, but I’m not going to be doing any so-called mating with him. “Right,” I say slowly. “When was the last time you were around humans?”

“You are not a human,” Malakai says slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “Why is it that you refuse to admit that?”

“Let’s say that I am human, for the sake of argument,” I tell him conversationally, gesturing with my hands.

“Why would we want to argue about the fact that you are a witch queen and not human at all?”

I make a slight sound of frustration, pinching my brow when something pushes against my knees, causing me to fall back. I half expect Malakai to catch me with his shadows again like he did before, but instead I sink into the soft, fabric-covered down of a large armchair.

“Where did this come from?” I say, feeling less and less attached to reality as the day goes on.

“Answer my question,” Malakai insists, and it’s the first time I’ve seen something from him bordering on emotion, something that’s more than just detached curiosity. The shadows around him intensify, and the muscle twitches in his forehead as he stares down at me. It discomforts me, and I glare up at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Why? Why should I?” I ask.

“You are here to fulfill a promise your people made centuries ago,” he says, and the words are a growl. “You will mate with me, like it or not.”

“I don’t think so,” I tell him, settling back against the armchair. A table appears next to me, a silver pitcher full of water sitting on top of it, a crystal goblet next to it. I stare, trying not to show how discomforted I am.

The pitcher rises up, and clear water pours into the crystal goblet.

“Thank you,” I tell the pitcher, and take the goblet. First time I’ve thanked an object, but I was raised with good etiquette and apparently will lose my mind with good etiquette as well.

“I might be here to fulfill a promise,” I finally respond, then take a long drink.

I keep drinking, unsure how to finish whatever I was about to say.

Malakai continues to watch me, unblinking, distinctively inhuman. Shadows curl across my foot, and I kick at them until they dissipate.

“Don’t do that,” I tell him. “Let me finish.” I hold up a finger as he starts to open his mouth, and then I take another sip of water because I am, frankly, parched after my long trip here and still don’t know what I want to say.

“Were you planning on finishing this century?” he asks, finally snapping the silence between us.

I raise my eyebrows. I was trained on power plays, and if that’s what he wants this conversation to be, then I am more than happy to reciprocate.

I take another long drink, tempted to smack my lips for effect.

That, however, would be uncouth.

“I may have entered into a bargain with you of some kind.” I shrug one shoulder, and then immediately still, all too aware of the way his gaze is hot as it travels across my skin to where my bosom has risen and fallen.

I take a deep breath and restart. “But I did not know the terms of this agreement, nor the reason for it, or even the history behind it.”

Aha! Yes. That’s what I wanted to say. I curb a triumphant smile.

“You do not deny that you have entered the bargain, though,” he questions, tilting his head slightly the other direction.

Well. He’s not wrong there.

My eyes narrow, and I purse my lips. Then, instead of answering, I hold the goblet out, and the silver pitcher, unbidden, refills it. The crisp, musical splash of clear water filling the glass echoes off the vaulted ceiling, a silent hospitable offering from an empty room. I let him steep in the silence as I take another long drink.