Page 13 of Shadow (Marinah and the Apocalypse #1)

Marinah

K ing’s beast side had slithered beneath his skin like a living thing which, I guess, it was. I wanted to run and hide. The other part of me had been morbidly fascinated, even as I felt my life dangling by a thread. King had appeared more animal than human, savage and barely contained.

My father had once spoken of Greystone’s mastery over his animal side, praising his unparalleled control. Until I had seen King unravel, I hadn’t understood what my father meant. My father had respected Greystone deeply; I couldn’t imagine him feeling the same about King. It baffled me that someone like him could lead the Shadow Warriors.

The man who had stalked me back to my room had introduced himself as Beck, or at least, I thought that’s what he said. His irritation at the task had been painfully obvious. Every question I asked was met with a dismissive grunt.

Now, I was essentially a prisoner in my room again. Two different guards stood watch outside, ensuring I couldn’t leave or do anything remotely productive. With the nap I had taken earlier, sleep wasn’t an option. I tried to stretch the tension from my overtaxed muscles, but the effort only reminded me how drained I was. The thought of a cool swim in the pool one floor below was almost cruel. It was out of reach, like everything else here.

With nothing better to occupy myself, I rifled through the room’s drawers. Most were empty. The few that weren’t held only the essentials. The closet, which I had gone through before, had a small selection of clothes; jeans and T-shirts, all in my size. I hadn’t worn jeans in years. The T-shirts were cheesy, emblazoned with slogans like Bike Cuba. They seemed more like souvenirs than practical clothing, but I wasn’t really complaining.

Trapped and restless, I wondered how long I would be kept here and whether I would ever have the chance to negotiate, which was why I had come.

The white socks provided with my athletic shoes were thick and surprisingly comfortable. I was currently wearing one of several pairs of black yoga pants. I wasn’t sure if they were meant for sleeping or working out, but I had decided they were my new training gear. The bras fit perfectly, which meant the Federation must have sent my measurements to King before I arrived. There was no other way they could have known my exact sizes.

At least that solved one mystery.

After my search of the drawers turned up nothing hidden or interesting, I ended up sitting on the bed, twiddling my thumbs, my mind wandering back to the day’s training session. Being gangly and tripping over my own feet came naturally to me, but somehow, I had made progress on that dreaded half-ball. Boot said talking about my parents distracted me from worrying about falling, and I think he was right. He seemed to believe I could master the ball and anything else I set my mind to. I wasn’t so sure, but after today, I was willing to give it a shot.

It felt good to stand on that thing without toppling over. Who knew? Maybe tomorrow, I’d manage to walk and chew gum at the same time. Miracles did happen.

I glanced around the room, hoping to spot a book or anything to take my mind off the suffocating boredom of being stuck here. No luck. I made a mental note to ask for books tomorrow.

Needing to rinse off the sweat from the day’s exertion, I headed to the shower. I was starving, but since I had no idea when the next meal would arrive, I kept the shower quick.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around my head, I froze.

King was sitting on the bed, looking like every teenage girl’s fantasy come to life.

He had clearly showered. His dark hair was still damp, and he wore clean BDUs, a T-shirt, and heavy boots, now dust-free.

Meanwhile, I might be in a fresh T-shirt, but the towel turban perched on my head was not exactly my best look.

“I won’t bite,” King said when I lingered near the bathroom door.

“Is that a promise you’ll never bite, or just not right now?” I asked. My snark was fueled by an empty stomach.

“Not right now.”

His response was dead serious, and I instantly regretted my attempt at humor. “Are you here to explain what happened earlier?”

“No,” he replied flatly. “I’m here to escort you to my room for dinner.”

“I’d prefer to eat a quiet meal alone,” I said, trying to soften the rejection with, “If you don’t mind?”

King stood, turned his back to me, and strode toward the door without a word. As he opened it, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression smug and condescending.

“It wasn’t a request. Come.”

“If I stumble across an etiquette book, I’m pretty sure your name will be under What Not to Do ,” I grumbled. Apparently, Shadow Warriors didn’t have a monopoly on grumbling.

King didn’t respond. Instead, he emitted a low grunt, which I took as his version of ignoring me.

The guards remained at my door as I hurried after King, struggling to match his long strides. His pace was brisk, and my legs, feeling like jelly encased in sausage casings after the day’s workout, could barely keep up. The shower had helped ease some of the ache, but this near-jogging pace was a whole new level of torture.

King didn’t even glance back when I stumbled, my hand slamming against the corridor wall to steady myself.

The only upside to the experience was that I was finally starting to learn my way through the labyrinth of endless white corridors. If necessary, I could probably find the gym or King’s room without an escort.

By the time King reached his room, I was trailing about eight feet behind, breathless and drenched in frustration. My snark was ready for battle.

“If you walked slower, a trip to your room wouldn’t feel like a death march for the mere human.” My tone was sarcastic, and I knew I was pushing my luck, but King’s attitude seemed to bring out the worst in me.

“I don’t think you’re a mere anything ,” he said, catching me off guard.

“You haven’t known me long enough, or you wouldn’t say that,” I countered.

“Why do you put yourself down?” he asked as he moved across the room and took a seat at the table, where a meal fit for royalty was waiting.

Drawn by the mouthwatering aromas, I took a step closer, only to check myself when I realized I might actually be drooling.

Thick pork chops, green beans, and rolls still steaming from the oven rested on the table. The layout looked like a picture from one of those old magazines I tortured myself with in my quarters back home.

Food like this had become mythical. In the Federation compound, steam only rose from food if we burned it, and even then, it did nothing to improve the taste. I usually ate cold rations so I could choke them down and forget the meal as quickly as possible. Eventually, I had stopped flipping through those magazines because the pictures of food were too cruel a tease.

Forcing my gaze away from the feast, I sneaked a glance at King. Just a quick peek, enough to gauge his mood without risking prolonged eye contact. He was watching me, waiting for an answer to his question about why I put myself down.

I ignored him a moment longer as I took my seat, placing the provided napkin in my lap with exaggerated care. Finally, I glanced up, this time holding his gaze a little longer. His eyes were annoyingly captivating, and it frustrated me that I couldn’t stare at them without ruffling his delicate beast feathers.

“I put myself down because I don’t kid myself into thinking I’m more than I am,” I said, meeting his question head-on.

His voice dropped. “What are you?”

His face was so serious, as if he were asking a real question. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.

Being around King felt like standing in the path of a tsunami, an unstoppable force of nature leaving destruction in its wake. It was in his eyes, his commanding posture, and the arrogance woven into every movement. Even his name screamed it. King. King the God.

I was so tired of all this, and it had only been five days.

I glanced down at the food on my plate, letting out a breath before giving him the unvarnished truth.

“I was a human weakling without ambition. I could happily stay at my job, put in ten-hour days, and read at night to keep myself entertained.”

Then I glanced back up, this time locking onto his stare and refusing to look away.

“You were dangerous,” King muttered, almost too low to hear.

The words hung in the air, daring me to flinch.

But I didn’t.

“Dangerous how?” I asked, genuinely curious. Why did he think that?

We held each other’s gaze, the moment stretching out like a taut wire ready to snap. I could swear the temperature in the room had risen a few degrees. His eyes were like ice, challenging me in ways I didn’t fully understand.

Some irrational part of me wanted to stab him with my fork just to break the tension.

I had never been violent. I hated bloodshed, even though I knew it was part of the world we lived in.

But right now, punching King square between those icy blue eyes or flattening his not-quite-perfect nose sounded just as satisfying as stabbing him with that fork.

Hell, even imagining ripping his head off felt oddly gratifying.

Those thoughts were wrong, but they were there, tearing their way into my mind and pushing out the old Marinah.

King and I seemed to bring out the worst in each other.

My thoughts drifted back to the first day when he licked the blood from my scraped palm and slow, electric tingles rippled across my skin.

I would lick his blood after stabbing him.

God. Why would I even think that?

I covered my face with my hands, breathing deeply to steady myself. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t this person, or at least, I didn’t think I was, but right then, it was hard to believe otherwise.

When I finally dropped my hands, King was watching me with unsettled intensity.

“I’m dominant,” he said suddenly, his voice low as he rubbed the scar on his face. “My men are too. When someone looks us in the eye, it’s a challenge to our superiority.”

“Superiority?” I bristled with annoyance. His words made it sound like he thought he was inherently better than humans, and my hackles rose.

He shrugged, clearly unfazed by whatever had been written across my face. I’d never been good at hiding my emotions. “I didn’t think there was a better word for it,” he continued. “We were superior fighters. That’s who survives in this world.”

He wasn’t wrong, but he was forgetting something important.

“Without us, you didn’t stand a chance even if your Shadow Warrior numbers were triple what we estimated. You needed us as much as we needed you.” I laid the truth on the table, unapologetic.

My government didn’t need to spell that out for me. Everyone knew it.

King knew it too.

He studied me, his piercing gaze unnerving but not enough to make me flinch. I lowered my eyes out of habit, but some part of me resisted the gesture.

It felt wrong.

Like I wasn’t the same woman I had been just days ago.

The old me would have shrunk back, but now? Now, I wanted to hold his gaze.

I didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, the tension, or the ridiculous confidence I had gained from balancing on that ball, but for the first time, I felt like I belonged here, facing him head-on.

King didn’t respond to my statement, which I took as a small victory. If he was ignoring it, I must have scored a few brownie points. Yay me.

“How did your training go?” he asked casually, steering the conversation in an entirely different direction.

I could press the point, but hunger won this battle.

“Ha,” I said, aiming for humor as I cut, then speared a piece of pork chop and shoved it into my mouth. “Standing on a half-ball all day made my feet, legs, and basically every part of my body scream in agony. I’m sure tomorrow will be worse when the torture starts all over again,” I added after swallowing.

Funny that I didn’t beg for the torture to stop or, even better, demand it.

King shook his head slightly, and there was a faint curve to his lips.

Did he almost smile?

“You stood on a half-ball all day?”

“Well,” I admitted, letting my own smile slip through, “maybe I exaggerated. The floor and I became fast friends. I spent way more time with it than I should have.”

His laugh was rough, but it transformed his face. The harsh lines relaxed, not quite soft, but close enough. It was startling, really, how different he looked when he laughed.

His weathered features had a rugged appeal, a stark contrast to my pale, sun-deprived complexion. Though my cheeks were still tinged pink from the training I endured before arriving here, it didn’t quite compare.

King looked good when he laughed.

Too good.

And just like that, I had unexpected tingles in unexpected places.

“Did it help improve your balance?” he asked once his laughter faded.

“That’s debatable,” I said, popping a green bean into my mouth.

If I ever went back home, the only thing I would miss was the food.

“Boot figured out that if I talked and distracted myself, I could stay upright longer. Not sure how useful that’d be if I ever had to save myself from a hellhound.”

“You never know,” King said with a wry smile. “I’ve known a few women who could talk the suckers to death.”

“ Women? ” I raised an eyebrow, refusing to let that comment slide.

His smile vanished, replaced by a steely hardness in his eyes.

The light mood shifted abruptly.

The air grew heavier.

“Before we entered the war,” he said flatly.

“You want me to believe there isn’t a single woman here?” I countered; my tone deliberately casual though I knew it wasn’t fooling King. “Plenty of you were married before you decided to reveal yourselves to us.”

His jaw tightened.

“We exposed ourselves to save humans from annihilation. Our women, or lack thereof, is not a topic I am willing to discuss.”

I waved my fork in the air before stabbing another green bean. “By all means, let’s avoid anything that might set you off again. I prefer my head firmly attached to my shoulders.”

After another bite, I set the fork down and picked up the remainder of the pork chop with my fingers so I could consume it faster. I had no idea why I craved meat so badly. Scarcity had a way of changing things, but that impulse was so strange that all I could do was chalk it up to a vitamin deficiency.

As I chowed down, I stole glances at King, careful not to meet his gaze for more than a fleeting second.

See? Food soothed the savage beast. Even mine.

“Many of our farming families died when we entered the war,” King said, his voice deceptively pleasant, though the tightness around his eyes betrayed the feeling behind the words. “They were trained to till the land and feed our people. They weren’t trained to fight.”

I paused, unexpectedly moved by the admission.

It was a rare glimpse into the cost of the war. Both human and Shadow Warrior lives were lost in numbers too vast to fathom.

I lifted my water glass, holding it forward. “To fewer dead in both our camps.”

King regarded me for a moment, then raised his own glass. The faintest tension lingered as the rims clinked together.

“To the death of our enemies,” he said.

“Am I drinking to my own demise?” I asked dryly before taking a sip, completing the toast.

“I’m hoping you’re not,” King replied, “but time will tell.”

We both took a sip, the silence stretching just long enough for my curiosity to bubble over.

“How long will I be here?”

His brows furrowed slightly, as if he were debating how much to reveal.

“As long as it takes.”

I leaned forward, unable to help myself. “As long as what takes?”

His gaze locked onto mine, and any lingering tingles were snuffed out by a sudden, icy chill.

“Trust,” he said, the single word landing like a heavy weight between us.