Free The Shadow Reader by Sandy Williams Page B

I went missing for three days straight. I wouldn’t tell them where I was—really, what would the truth accomplish?—and they only ungrounded me a couple of weeks ago, after I got my grades up.
    “ A new false-blood?” I echo. The first one nearly killed me, but the fear I should be feeling is buried under a more potent emotion.
    “You’re safe,” Kyol assures me, sitting on the couch as well. Even though there’s a good foot between us, the air warms with his body heat.
    “Then why are you here?” I ask.
    His gaze slides to meet mine. He doesn’t have to say a word. He’s not here for the reason I want him to be. Nothing has changed. The king hasn’t revoked the laws keeping us apart and Kyol has no intention to break his oath.
    “I asked Atroth to send somebody else,” he says.
    “Because you didn’t want to see me.”
    “No.” His jaw clenches, then his gaze drops to the floor. “Because I wanted to see you.”
    I hate the way his admission flows out on a wave of guilt. I hate the way I want to comfort him, to tell him it’s okay—that I’m okay—and I understand. I don’t want to understand, but he’s the king’s sword-master. He swore to protect the Descendants of the Tar Sidhe with his life, and even if being around me and my world’s technology didn’t damage his magic, he’s a man who doesn’t break his promises.
    Damn it, time was supposed to prove these feelings were just a crush.
    “What’s his name?” I ask because my mind will start contemplating what-ifs if I don’t focus on the real reason Kyol is here.
    “Betor, son of Jallon.”
    Déjà vu hits me so hard my head aches. No. This can’t be déjà vu. I can predict what happens next.
    “Is he worse than Thrain?” I hear myself ask.
    “Not yet. We hope to capture him before he organizes another attack.” Kyol doesn’t meet my eyes. There’s no inflection in his voice.
    “You don’t want my help.”
    “No.”
    “Then why did you come?”
    “ Atroth thought I could convince you to map a few fae. I’m to tell you that you won’t be in any large-scale battles. You’ll be used . . . covertly?” He looks up. At my nod, he continues. “When we learn the location of one of the rebels, my swordsmen will attempt to arrest him. I’ll escort you, and if the rebel fissures out, you will map his shadows.”
    It sounds safe enough. It’s better than being used to see through fae illusions in a full-on confrontation.
    “I can do that,” I say.
    Kyol’s hands tighten on his knees. “When Thrain found you, you had to help us. But this false-blood doesn’t know who you are. This isn’t your war. If you help us, it’s because you choose to and . . . and, McKenzie, there can be nothing between us.”
    I close my eyes. That’s not what I want to hear. I want to hear that there’s a chance the king might change his mind or make an exception.
    “I’m sorry,” Kyol says as he rises.
    I force a smile and stand as well. “It’s no problem. I get it. I’m probably better off dating my own kind, anyway.”
    “Yes,” he says, peering down at me.
    We’re standing closer than we should. We both know it, yet neither one of us takes a step back. Kyol brushes my hair from my face, lets his fingers linger alongside my cheek, and without conscious thought, my chin tilts up.
    Time slows.
    Our lips meet.
    It’s supposed to be a last kiss, and if we were both human or both fae, it might have been, but the moment before we separate, chaos lusters explode through me. The jerk of his body, his sudden inhalation, tells me he feels them, too, and instead of moving apart, we move closer. So much closer.
    One kiss turns into two, two into three, then there’s the brush of his tongue and I can’t concentrate enough to count. He cups the back of my neck—gently, as if my humanity makes me fragile—but if this is the last time we touch like this, I don’t want to hold anything back.
    I wrap my arms around him when he would pull away,