Page 87 of Autumn Queens & Shadows

“You aren’t my damn friend.”

His knee brushed mine and my stomach did a flip when he did it a second time. “No?”

“No.”

Our knees were now resting against each other’s, the hand he’d rested on the bench slightly grazed my shoulder, and every nerve ending was preoccupied with deducting the strangest mathematical problem while I remained as still as one could be. “That’s a shame,” he said, angling his head in my direction. “I liked being your friend.” That fingertip moved back and forth just the very slightest over my skin. “But I think I might like being your husband a little better.”

“Fake husband.”

“Nothing fake about me, sweetheart,” he said, standing, the sudden movement leaving me feeling entirely too empty without his little touches. I watched him pick up Rain from where she’d sprawled on the grass, sleeping like she was laying on the most royal mattress her royal bones had ever laid. “Stop ogling my fantastic backside and get up. Let’s put her to bed and get you something to eat.”

If there is one thing of Malik’s you couldn't possibly ignore to look at, it was that. Oh, and his tiny little man waist. I could swear it was so tapered despite this massive build, he’d fit a corset beautifully. Even as I followed behind him, I took the opportunity to do just that, ogle him and those very firm thick thighs that had been squeezed onto those poor black leathers.

Malik took that moment of Rain’s weakness to douse her chubby cheeks in loud smacking kisses and my little niece let out a rumble of a snore, startling him a little. “Heavens, baby doll. Trying to summon the dead or what?”

“How are her lessons coming along?”

“Kil was more patient than I, so I guess I understand why he insisted he had it under control.”

“I’m sure he loves having you there with them. He's pretty busy back and forth with Olympia and Adriata, so this must be a big help to him and Rain both. You don’t have to ask him to be there all the time, you know that, right? I’ve seen you teach your command dozens of times before. Not once—” Have you acted like your father would have acted, I wanted to say, but he beat me to it.

“A slip of the moment is all it takes,” he said, pushing her bedroom door open with a shoulder and slipping inside the just as creepy space made of dark walls and decorated with the oddest choice of stuffed animal toys. “I could lose my temper or push her more than I should without even knowing that’s what I’m doing. It is instilled in me.”

“You’re a trained soldier, Malik. When have you ever had a slip of the moment?”

As he bent down to lay Rain in bed, he turned to give me a look, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “I’ve had a few.”

“I’ve never heard of any stories,” I said, clearing my throat and trying to work my mind out of the crippling frustration he put me through when he carelessly ogled me back. “Someone would have told me. Adriatians are very mouthy.”

“That is not what I meant,” he said, taking Rain’s shoes off, and then unsuccessfully attempted to pull away her doll which she clung to for dear life until he gave up. “Damn it. How can she sleep with that ugly thing?”

“It’s ugly, but it’s her ugly thing. That’s what she says.”

“She got that from you,” he said, wrapping a large hand around my wrist and pulling me behind him. “Let’s feed you now, little bird. Before you drop on me.”

“What do we make?” I asked, holding up a pan that I most certainly had no idea how to use. Eren had done all the cooking back in White Bridge, I’d done most of the hunting.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Vanilla custard.” It was one of the things that always tasted better in Adriata. The milk and eggs came from far in Tenebrose and weren’t always the freshest, but Adriata was plentiful in that aspect.

His lip curled a little. “Then we make vanilla custard.”

“We can make something else. You used to hate sweet stuff.”

“I like you well enough,” he said, taking the pan from my hand and lowering it over a hob, mercifully letting me gawk at his back instead of directly at his face. “Get me eggs, sugar and flour. I’ll grab the milk and your vanilla.”

After giving him the ingredients, I also grabbed a little flowery apron and slung it around his tiny little man waist. “You know how to make it without a cookbook?”

After a quick amused glance over his shoulder at me, he said, “Driada used to spend a lot of her time down here before she got as ill as she was her last few years.”

A sudden quiet fell between us after that. The thing with Mal was, if he wanted to tell you something, he would. Even with me. Prying would only annoy him. If he’d made you pry, that meant he didn’t want you to know. When it came to Driada, even if I wanted to annoy him on purpose, I wouldn’t pry. Before, he’d usually tell me even about things he didn’t want me prying on. But after he’d returned from Isjord, he’d changed.

He languidly stirred the yolks into the milk so it didn’t curdle while I watched him from a safe distance. “Don’t leave me,” he rasped, and it took me a moment to shake the haze and grasp his words.

“I’m here.”

“You almost weren’t.”