Of Mist and Shadow (The Mist King, #1)

by Jenna Wolfhart

He was my king, but I did not enjoy bowing to him.

What did he see? I couldn’t help but wonder. A weak, little thing, shuddering before his gaze? Or did he see what I wanted to show the world? Strength, ferocity. Defiance.

So what if she’d had thoughts? They’d pale in comparison to her deeds.

Why care what was in the hearts of men as long as they fell in line?

I’d probably pay for that, but I didn’t care. Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

But I didn’t break then, and I wouldn’t break now. They’d have to kill me before I let them douse the fire in my heart.

Everything within me itched to fight, to scream and rage against these people and this place.

Sometimes, you had to fight for others when no one else would.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

My soul was in shards, but not splinters.

“What did he do to you?” the Mist King repeated in a soft, dangerous voice that curled across me like the mists.

“Make sure she has a bath and a fresh change of clothes. And for the moon’s sake, make sure she eats some fucking bread.”

The Mist King lowered his head to my leg, pressed his lips against my roiling skin, and...sucked. A shudder went through me as his hands gently gripped my thighs, his mouth working, his lips caressing.

Suddenly, he whipped off his cloak and draped it across my shoulders. The intoxicating scent of mist and snow enveloped me. My mouth popped open to argue. I didn’t want his cloak anywhere near me. For one, it had touched him. And two, well, it had touched him. But for the love of light, it was warm. And it smelled so fucking good. Like him.

“I wouldn’t have let them touch her,” the Mist King said.

His form was near-perfect, even with the blood splattered across his impressive pecs and chiseled abs. It almost hurt to look at him. My hand twitched, still locked around the dagger, and suddenly, I felt extremely self-conscious.

Roughly, the Mist King grabbed my hand and held it up before his eyes. A jolt of heat flashed through me. I swallowed hard. He dropped my hand and scowled. “You should have taken my damn cloak.”

But I had always been surrounded by monsters. They’d been hidden inside a pretty package, that was all.

I moved to her side and knelt. Her body trembled, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Anger curled inside me. Clearly, she was having some kind of nightmare, and I had a damn good idea what it was about. Maybe not the details. She still refused to share that.

My eyes drifted back to her all the same. Those red-tinted lips. The dark golden hair falling across freckled cheeks. Fuller, the past few days. Stronger. For fuck’s sake, none of that mattered.

But I could not stop the jolt to my heart, the instinct to rush to her side and make sure she was alright.

The Mist King had the look of a man who loved. A man who had already lost so much. A man whose soul had been shattered.

My fingers slid into his open palm. Something strange shot through me, an odd sensation that set my heart racing.

“No, it isn’t,” he said, his voice rough and full of emotion. “It’s all him, and I would kill him for what he’s done to you if I could. I would rip his head off his body. And then I would feed the rest of him to the mists. He would be nothing but ash when I got done with him.”

I’d taken a wobbly step toward healing, though I knew I’d always carry the pain of that day with me for the rest of my life. But maybe, in time, it could be a scar instead of a gaping wound.

I tried not to think about the feel of his arm around my body. The way his hand had lingered just a moment too long on my cheek. The heat in his eyes when he’d gazed at me—a heat I must have misread.

We were both angry at the world, and he understood me.

His gaze dipped to my lips, and then snapped back up to my eyes.

He’d make himself the villain if that meant saving the world from the gods. I could not hate him for that.

Kalen was like the darkness itself.

“Kalen,” I whispered as he angled his sword at the monster. “It looks like it wants to eat me.” “Don’t worry,” he said in a low growl. “It would have to kill me before I would let it take you from me.”

Even though I knew she’d recover, I’d been fearful of never seeing those soft brown eyes open again.

I hated seeing her like this—her voice trembling, her eyes full of pain.

She reached out a hand and brushed my knee. Everything within me stiffened at her touch. I flicked my gaze down at where her fingers curled against the side of my leg, and for a moment, the only thing in the world that existed was this. It shouldn’t have unnerved me so. It was just a hand—only the slightest touch. But it caused something to stir deep within me.

I was the bloody Mist King. Why would anyone want to touch a monster like me?

His eyes softened, and my heart did something strange in response. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him make that expression before. Almost as though he…cared.

His eyes darkened even more. “Because I can’t stand the thought of his hands on you.”

Without all that hair in her face, I was struck by how big and beautiful her eyes were. They seemed to leap toward me to grab hold of my shirt and force me to stare into the depths of them… and get lost there forever.

Her flush deepened, spreading through that delicious neck that just begged for the skim of my teeth against it.

“I have never met someone who I felt matched my soul.”

“Mates are a forever thing. It is a bond that cannot be broken. It transcends even death. I do not want anything less than the deepest connection I could ever find. Anything less than that is not worth the trouble. I want—no, I need—someone whose soul matches mine.”

Something in her eyes drew me toward her, and her body seemed to curve my way in response. So badly, I wanted to kiss her again. I had for days. The dream might not have been real, but it had felt real to me. And it had been killing me to pretend that it had never happened.

All I could see was the strength in her body, the fire in her eyes. She was breathtaking.

“Tessa, love.” Kalen pressed his lips to my forehead and then gathered me into his arms.

“Tell me, love. What else makes you squirm like this? I need to know exactly what you like.”

“The bastard tried to choke you. So I snapped his fucking neck.”

The lies were so thick that I could not swim in them. Soon, I would drown.

I would never again let a fae king rip my heart to shreds.