King Of Shadows (The Masks of Under Book 2) by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

Author:Kathryn Ann Kingsley [Kingsley, Kathryn Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Limitless Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

***

Something strange woke her up.

After a few hours, emotional exhaustion had finally pushed her over the edge into sleep. It was a fitful sleep, but it was something. Now, she came out of her uneasy slumber with a strange sensation around her.

There was the heavy comforter that helped keep out the chill night air, but something else now literally weighed on her.

There was an arm draped over her.

Lydia blinked her eyes open but was too sleepy and too confused to do anything at first. Maybe it was just a lingering part of her dream. Maybe she was imagining things.

Her eyes focused on the hand that was resting atop hers where it lay, curled on the surface of the comforter. It was connected to an arm that was slung over her side. Moonlight from outside faintly glinted on black metal. The hand that rested on hers wasn’t flesh and bone. Nope. She very much wasn’t making this up.

Lydia was in bed, just as she had been, curled up on her right side. But now someone was there with her. Judging by the metal-clawed prosthetic of a left hand, attached to the arm of whoever was behind her, it was Aon. His right arm was under the pillow beneath her head, and she felt his hand next to hers.

Aon was lying with her head tucked under his chin and his knees behind hers. When Lydia held perfectly still, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back, slow and steady. He was asleep or at least faking it. He was warm, and the smell of old books was around him, as it always was.

Aon was holding her like a stuffed animal. Or a lover. Neither of which Lydia was, at least last she checked.

What the hell should she do?

She could scream, jump out of bed, slap Aon, yell at him, yet couldn’t find the will to do any of those things.

She realized he wasn’t wearing a long shirt for the first time she had seen him. There was skin visible where his arm was draped over her, running to where the prosthetic of his hand attached. Lydia wondered if he was wearing a shirt at all, and the thought made her mouth go dry once more.

Aon was pale, not shockingly. Lithe, but muscular. The skin of his arm had lines of markings. Row after row of small, thin black ink. It covered at least half of what she could see in twisting shapes and spirals, filled with lettering or circled in geometric shapes. It was beautiful, like a work of art. She found herself marveling at them and wished she could look at them more closely.

She shifted to test if he was actually asleep or not. As she did, his hand slipped from where it draped across hers to wrap his arm tighter around her. He pulled her back against him with a quiet and whiney “nnnh” in his throat. Aon was out cold. No awake and self-respecting man would ever make a sound like that.

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