Page 28 of Midnight Star

I stiffen, remembering the last time I drank blood—from the dark angel, in the cave, with Riven’s back turned.

But he’s right. It’s been over twenty-four hours since then, and I need to keep up as much strength as possible. Sure, Icango around three days without feeding, but it’s hardly comfortable when I do.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s hunt.”

And so, we pry ourselves away from each other, pack up, and venture deeper into the forest.

Ghost pads ahead of us, and Riven moves beside me, scanning the terrain with practiced precision. There’s tension in his posture—a readiness for anything that might emerge from the shadows.

And despite the comforting things he told me earlier, I can’t get three specific words of his out of my mind. Not “I love you,” but “you should feed.”

Because even though he says he accepts the vampire side of me, the idea of him witnessing it again makes me want to shrink into the snow and disappear. But still, I keep going with my head held high, reminding myself that he loves me for me, and not for what I am.

After about an hour of careful stalking, Ghost freezes, his ears pricking forward.

Through the trees ahead, I spot a massive caribou, its antlers stark against the darkening sky.

Riven steps closer, his hand brushing mine. “You’ll need to be quick,” he says. “Ghost and I will keep watch.”

“Just try to not watchme,”I tell him, since I really don’t want him to see me bite a living thing and feast on its blood. Not after the shame I felt after pouncing on that dark angel after the storm and losing control.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” he says, which I take as an unfortunate—and irritatingly practical—no.

But there’s no time to argue. So, with a deep breath, I reach for my air magic, using it as a cushion below my feet as I move silently through the snow.

When I’m close enough to the caribou, I lunge.

My fangs pierce its neck, and the hot rush of blood floods my senses, easing the ache that’s been growing inside me since the last time I fed. The rush of power is nearly impossible to not get lost in.

Suddenly, something shifts in my peripheral vision.

I jerk back from the caribou and whirl toward the movement, trying to see where it’s coming from.

There. In the trees.

Dark shapes flicker between their trunks—but they’re not quite right. They’re just... shadows. Moving independently, without bodies to cast them.

Riven’s by my side in an instant.

“Tariaksuq,” he says, drawing his sword. “Shadow people. They’re said to appear as half-man, half-caribou, but only when killed. Until then, they’re nothing more than shadows.”

Before I can ask more, the nearest shadow lunges.

I dive to the side, rolling through the snow as more shadows converge on our position. It’s hard to make them out, but the clearest part of them is also the most alarming: their hands. Long and spindly, with claws capable of ripping a person to shreds.

Ghost snarls, positioning himself between me and the approaching threats.

“There are too many,” I say, counting at least fifteen of them circling us. Maybe more.

“Stay close,” Riven orders, his blade glowing with frost magic. “Back to back. What are the most important things I’ve taught you so far?”

My heart hammers as I tighten my grip on my dagger. “Stay strong. Adapt. And be unpredictable,” I say, already feeling the pulse of magic stirring within me.

I let it build, drawing on both sides of myself—the air magic that sharpens my senses, and the water magic that steadies my aim.

As I hone in on the power, one of the shadows darts toward Riven.

He pivots with inhuman speed, his blade slicing through the air and leaving a trail of ice in its wake.

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