Page 64 of Burning Star

ZOEY

My blood-slicked handstremble under the cloak Isla gave me.

The hall is silent. The guards say nothing. The Night Court sleeps, but my heart pounds loudly enough to wake the dead.

Not wanting to spend a second more in this hall than necessary, I ball my fist and pound on the doors.

They open almost immediately.

Aerix stands there, shirtless, his dark hair tousled from sleep, his midnight eyes narrowing as they rake over me. His wings twitch, flaring behind him, and the frost in the air sharpens, crackling like ice beneath my skin.

“Inside,” he commands, and I stumble through the threshold, the door slamming shut behind me.

He’s on me in a second, his hands gripping my shoulders, his magic sweeping over me in a cool current.

“What happened?” he asks, his gaze sharp and assessing.

“I had to…” I trail off, shaking my head, my voice catching in my throat.

“Had to what?” he presses, the frigid intensity in his eyes making my breath catch.

“Victoria and Sophia left. Henry came to my suite. He forced himself inside. I thought…” I swallow hard, the memory of Henry’s fingers tearing at my clothes flashing behind my eyes. “I don’t know what I thought. Because then he was on top of me, ripping at my nightgown, and I—” My voice breaks, and I pull out my dagger, the blade stained with blood. “I killed him.”

Aerix’s eyes meet mine, and my heart stops. Because he’s not looking at me with disgust, or with fear.

He’s looking at me with dark, glimmering pride.

“And how do you feel?” he asks calmly, brushing his thumb across my bloodstained cheek.

I can barely gather myself together enough to breathe, let alone think. Yet, somehow, I do.

“Powerful,” I admit, and he smiles—predatory and possessive.

“You look beautiful,” he says, his fingers still caressing my face. “And I think I just fell even harder for you than I did before.”

I close my eyes for a second, swallowing the last of my fear, his words stroking the dangerous part of me that’s been growing since I entered the Night Court.

“You do know how much I care about you, right?” he asks, quiet and urgent, his voice laced with a vulnerability I’ve only heard when he’s on the brink of losing control.

“Yes,” I reply, not doubting him for a second.

“And you care about me, too?” he asks, softer now, tension coiling between us.

From the way he’s studying me, I know he needs to hear it. He’s practicallybeggingfor it, like if I don’t say it, something deep inside him will break.

“I love you, Aerix.” I press my palms to his chest, keeping my gaze locked on his. “And I trust you. Always.”

His body shudders with relief.

“I’m going to keep you safe. I promise,” he says, and then, as if a switch has been flipped, he pulls back, his expression turning calculating. “We can’t have you blamed for Henry’s murder.” He moves with practiced efficiency, pulling clothes from his wardrobe and thrusting them into my hands. “Change into this.”

I clutch the clothes to my chest, my heart pounding.

He steps toward me again, his closeness making my heart race. “You did what I would have done,” he says, and there’s something socalmingin the way he’s looking at me—something that makes my muscles relax. “I’m going to make sure no one touches you without suffering for it. No one but me. Now—change. And stay right here while you do. Because I want to see it. I want torevelin it.”

My breath quickens as I strip off my ruined nightgown and pull on the garments he provided: black leggings and a soft, oversized tunic. It smells like him—winter air and fresh pine.

“Who knows you were alone with Henry?” he asks, although from the heated way he’s staring at me, I’m surprised he can think straight, let alone plan a cover up for murder.

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