The Siege of Shadows: Book one

Feast Fit for a King (47)*

The feast is in full swing, the hall alive with the hum of laughter, music, and the clinking of silver. Candles flicker in their sconces, casting long shadows over the polished marble floors, while the fire at the far end crackles with warmth. The rich scent of roasted meats and fresh bread fills the air, a celebration of Imbolc—a time of renewal, the first hints of spring. Yet, for me, it feels like a suffocating cage, a gilded one.

Kael's presence burns into me from across the room. His helmet casts a shadow over his expression, but I don't need to see his face to feel the weight of his attention. He's watching me. He's always watching me.

"Kitten." His voice cuts through the noise, low and commanding. Every muscle in my body tenses at the sound. It's not just the nickname—it's the challenge laced within it, the promise of dominance that makes my skin crawl. Or maybe it's how part of me wants to respond.

My gaze snaps to his. He's leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest as though he has all the time in the world. His other hand taps the rim of his goblet, a silent taunt. He doesn't motion for me, doesn't beckon—but I know what he wants.

And worse, I know I'll obey.

I rise slowly, every step toward him deliberate. The golden chain from my collar sways against my chest, a sharp reminder of my position here. As I approach, Kael's lips curve into a slow smirk. He doesn't even bother hiding it.

When I reach him, his hands grip my waist, pulling me down onto his lap in one swift motion. I gasp, my legs straddling his thighs as the force of it knocks me off balance. His iron helmet grazes my temple, a slight sting from the iron and a cold contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dark with satisfaction. "You're learning."

I bristle at his words, at the sheer arrogance dripping from his tone, but before I can snap back, his hands are already moving—firm and unrelenting as they slide up my thighs.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, squirming against his hold, but it's no use. He's too strong, his fingers digging into my flesh in a way that makes my pulse quicken.

"Feeding a starving man," he says smoothly, his tone almost mocking. His hand slides higher, beneath the thin fabric of my dress, until his fingers brush the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

"Stop," I snap, my voice sharp. But even as the word leaves my lips, my body betrays me. Heat pools low in my stomach, my breath coming faster despite myself.

Kael's gloved fingers grip a piece of fruit from his plate, holding it up to me. "Feed me, kitten," he orders, his tone daring me to resist.

My hand trembles as I take the fruit from his fingers, the soft flesh cool against my skin. I hesitate, but his other hand slides higher beneath my dress, and the sensation robs me of any coherent thought. I bring the fruit to his lips, and he takes it from my fingers, his teeth scraping lightly against my skin.

"You put on quite the show" he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. His fingers push further, slipping beneath the fabric until they find the heat of me.

I gasp, my back arching involuntarily against him. "Kael—"

"Quiet," he orders, his free hand tangling in my hair and pulling my head back. The command in his voice silences any protest I might have had. His fingers work deeper, curling and pressing against that unbearable ache building inside me.

"Another," he growls, nodding toward the plate.

Shaking, I pick up a piece of bread this time, lifting it to his lips. He eats it slowly, his tongue flicking against my fingertips, his gaze locked on mine. The intimate act makes my stomach churn with a confusing mix of anger and heat.