Page 39 of Poison Sun

He hisses in pain, followed by a reflexive release.

Now’s my chance.

I twist out of his grip, adrenaline surging, and reach into my boot for my other dagger.

He recovers quickly, eyes narrowed, the burn marks on his skin already healing as he blocks my attempted blow.

“You’ve got spirit, Amber,” he snarls. “I’ll give you that.”

I need to get to the door. Then I can get out of here and find the others.

“I swear I was telling the truth.” I widen my eyes in what I hope looks like innocence, begging him to believe me before he kicks me back into the wall.

I gasp, catching my breath, and add, “You have to believe me. Please.”

“I don’t have to believe anything.”

The hatred in his eyes makes it clear that his anger has pushed past the charms of the lustberry.

From my position right now, I’ll have to go through him to get to either the door or the window.

So, I feint with my dagger, trying to find a path out. But Lucas is good. No, he’s better than good—he fights in a way that’s dirty, raw, and street smart. He’s trained to use his speed, strength, and weapons instead of his weak air magic.

Still, I use my training well enough to hold my own.

Then, finally, I have an opening.

Seizing the opportunity, I pounce, dagger poised to drive it through his chest.

He moves quickly.

The edge of the dagger nicks his skin, drawing a line of blood. But before I can strike again, he uses my momentum against me, twisting, turning, and suddenly I’m backed into a corner, my weapon knocked away and skittering across the floor.

I need my sun magic. But it’s like lightning in a storm, refusing to stay still for long enough to be captured.

“There’s one more thing you should know, Star Touched,” he says as he tightens his hold on my wrists, pinning me to the wall, his face inches from mine. “I can get that potion out of you and into the compass.”

I glare at him and squirm under his grip. “You’re lying.”

“Kill me, and you’ll never find out.” His eyes glint with challenge, and he leers down at me, licking his lips. “But why should I kill you when I can claim you?”

Panic flutters in my chest. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, his fangs graze the skin on my neck, a sharp pain piercing through me as he bites down.

Agony rushes through me, followed by an unexpected urge to relax.

I try to scream, but I can’t.

Instead, I gather what’s left of my sun magic. But it’s slipping through my fingers like sand. Lucas’s mouth is on my neck, drinking, and every pull feels like it’s drawing more than just blood—it’s draining my magic and sapping my strength.

“Stop,” I whisper, but my voice is barely audible, even to my own ears.

I feel myself being pushed onto the mattress, Lucas’s weight pinning me down with ease, his fangs still buried in my neck.

This can’t be happening.

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