My stomach sours as I revisit the few times his shadows have touched me. I may have warmed up to Sloth, but I’ll never forget how invasive it felt when he licked my face when I was pressed to the ground, or the terror I felt when one of them had his hand at the base of my throat.
The reminder makes me reconsider petting the shadow dog, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. Not with how real his fur feels, how warm and heavy his belly is beneath my hand. In this moment, he’s just so doglike. I scratch him under the ears.
Dominic makes a strange sound, almost like a moan, and my eyes dart to him. He shifts it into a cough that he hides behind his fist.
I eye him beneath a furrowed brow and resume petting the Shade. “Why doesn’t Sloth wear your face like the others?”
He glances down at the monster with a wry grin. “He may not wear my face, but he’s still a reflection of me.”
“How so?”
“I think we all have a primal, animal aspect to us. Don’t you?”
I’m taken aback. I’ve heard such an analogy stated a time or two, but normally it’s in reference to a wolf or a lion. Something proud and strong. “Your inner animal…is a dog.”
His lips pull into a grin so wide and unexpected it makes my heart stutter. His posture is easier now, one hand planted on the ridge between us as he slumps slightly to the side. He holds my gaze with that smile, and I’m struck by how young he looks. How delicately the corners of his eyes crinkle. “A lazy, useless dog,” he says, “who just wants to eat and sleep and be petted by a pair of skilled hands. Call me a good boy, and I’ll be happy forever.”
My mouth falls open. That was probably the most carefree thing he’s ever said to me, and…I’m shocked by how much I liked it. By how warm it makes my stomach feel, how my heartbeat quickens in response. And maybe that’s what emboldens me to do what I do next.
Lifting my hand, I reach for him, letting it fall on his hair. His dark strands are softer than I imagined they would be, despite being mussed by the breeze. “Good boy,” I say, patting his head in what’s supposed to be a taunting gesture.
Yet…it doesn’t feel taunting. Nor does my voice hold an ounce ofthe ridicule I intended. Instead, my words are soft, almost breathless. And the way his pupils blow wide, the way his chest lifts with a hitch of breath, tells me he doesn’t feel patronized at all.
We freeze like that, eyes locked, my hand still splayed over his hair. My cheeks heat, and before I can recall my inhibitions, my mind takes another path. I imagine what it would be like if we weren’t master and crew. If he wasn’t someone I hate. If we weren’t on this rooftop keeping watch for monsters, but just a man and a woman enjoying a late autumn night. If we were just that, I’d find him…tolerable. More than tolerable. Handsome. Desirable, even.
Dominic leans closer, an almost imperceptible distance. In the same moment, his eyes dip to my mouth. In answer, my lips part, and I too find myself leaning closer—
Dominic’s expression shutters, and he pulls back. With stiff motions, he rises to his feet. “You should go,” he says, all traces of his lighthearted mood gone. The hand that had been planted between us opens and closes at his side.
“I…should go, yes,” I say, too startled by what almost happened to argue. Yet I can’t ignore the way my heart races. It’s a traitorous rhythm, one it has no right to drum. Not for Dominic. A Shadowbane. A man who will someday be fully Sinless. Maybe even become a duke who will proceed to consume hearts.
I don’t look back as I descend the roof and enter the window once more. And as I settle into my blankets, I try to ignore the way my lips tingle, pulsing in the wake of a kiss that never happened. Or the sound of Dominic’s steps crossing the roof, stopping just over my bed.
Chapter Sixteen
Dominic
After three nights and only the tamest of Shade sightings, I feel like I can breathe again. Especially since the third night passed without any interruptions from Inana. Gods, she’s a problem. Too curious. Too stubborn. And too damn effective at getting under my skin. Not to mention the surges of emotion I keep feeling. I almost kissed her, for fuck’s sake. As much as I might have wanted to, and as hot as my blood roared as she stroked my hair and called me a good boy, I can’t let anything like that happen between us. She’s my Summoner and I’m her master. Anything more is a distraction I can’t afford. Besides, romantic relationships are taboo for my kind, especially with a subordinate. A Shadowbane’s duty is to his king, his patron prince, and the church. Everything else comes second until we’re granted full Absolution.
No pious Shadowbane would ever romance a sinner.
Which means being alone with Inana is a bad idea. But trying to keep her at bay with curt words and a cold demeanor doesn’t fucking work. It only makes her more riled up. More intrigued. More verbally combative. More attractive. More enticing in the way she lifts her chin, licks her lips, and—
I shake the thoughts from my head.
Inana meets my eyes across the rough-hewn table in the diningroom of the inn. She gives me a perplexed look, which makes me realize I’ve been staring. Like an idiot, I glance away and pretend to have been scanning our surroundings. The dining room is brightly lit, with lamps on each table and wooden chandeliers that hang from the rafters. The buzz of quiet conversation fills the air, along with scents of meat, fresh bread, and watered-down ale.
This is the first time I’ve been with my crew since we returned from dispatching the dragon. Until now, my hours have been spent resting, interviewing villagers for potential leads regarding the artist responsible for the Shade, or keeping watch from dusk to dawn. With the threat officially de-escalated, I invited my crew to dine at the inn’s tavern. The mayor was generous in his compensation, and even after the cut owed to Prince Leeran and the church, I still have ample coin left. What better way to spend it than by rewarding those who did the most important work to earn it?
My crew seems to be enjoying their prize. Bard savors the largest bowl of stew I’ve seen while Harlow works on her second plate of pork belly and eggs. Calvin’s appetite is always on the weaker end, but even he splurged on herb-crusted lamb chops. My eyes glide back to Inana, who tears into a buttery roll. She seems to have a fondness for bread, which makes me inexplicably envious of the rolls she hoards. My eyes move from her lips, glistening with butter, to her clothing. It’s different today, thanks to the mayor’s other gifts. Her bodice is brown leather, lacing up the front, the cut low enough to reveal the tip of her scar. It juts through her delicately freckled skin, cutting diagonally across the modest swell of her—
I snap my eyes away again. Why the fuck was I looking at her…scar?
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Lust whispers. It’s too bright for him to be anything more than a pool of shadow on my chair. Unlike Sloth, who hides under the table, nudging Calvin for pets. He tried to do the same to Inana, but I tugged him away. “I thought for certain you were ogling her tits. I don’t blame you. They’re nice.”
Inana chokes on her bite of bread, then washes it down with a sip of ale. Did she…hear Lust? That isn’t the first time I’ve questioned whether she can hear my shadows. On the roof, she watched Lust andPride with too much fascination for someone who couldn’t hear their argument.
So why not test my theory?
