Page 10 of Stolen Star

One drop. Two. Three.

Aerix’s breathing deepens, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matches my pulse. His wings shift behind him, stretching slightly before folding tight again, like he’s physically restraining himself.

The air chills. The shadows hush.

“That’s enough,” he says, rougher than before.

At his command, I stop, pulling my finger away, a stray droplet of blood falling on one of the harpsichord’s keys.

Aerix simply takes the vial from me, his fingers brushing against mine, and slips it into the pen’s reservoir.

“Now,” he says, sealing it with practiced fingers, “it’s complete.”

Before I can respond, he takes my hand again, lifting my bleeding finger to his lips. His eyes lock with mine as his tongue slides across the small wound, pricking the exact spot with his fangs so his magic can knit my skin back together.

“All better,” he murmurs, releasing my finger and reaching for the sheet music I was struggling with. “Now, use it on this.”

I smile slightly, since I’ve been irritated enough with that music to revel in the thought of staining it with my blood. I honestly don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. So, I press the pen’s tip to the paper, just beneath a particularly difficult measure. It glides across thesurface, leaving a cathartic trail of deep crimson in its wake.

Satisfaction curls inside me as I examine the mark I’ve made.

“I want you to use it daily,” Aerix says, his gaze fixed on the glistening lines. “Draw for me. Write for me.” He pauses, then looks up, his midnight eyes swirling with desire.“Bleedfor me.”

The space between us crackles with tension—his air and ice, and my rapidly beating heart. His wings flare, and even though I can’t see his back, I know just what it looks like when that sensitive place where his wings meet his skin grow taut.

But it’s his face that undoes me. That aching need behind his power. That fragile hunger he’ll never admit.

“I love you,” I tell him, the words coming easier each time I say them.

His wings fold. His breath steadies. And then he kisses me—slow, consuming, and desperate in its restraint. Like he’s starving but afraid of breaking the feast.

The kiss is gentle at first, quickly deepening with the hunger he always has around me.

But even as my lips respond, my mind drifts. Because these walls—this palace—it’s all so beautiful… and I’m drowning in silk-lined silence.

Aerix pulls back, his brow furrowing, frost formingin patterns along the harpsichord’s keys. He studies my face, then glances at the pen.

“You don’t like it,” he says, the temperature dropping several degrees, his wings tensing.

“No,” I say quickly, reaching for his hand. “It’s beautiful and thoughtful. I love it. Just like I love you.”

“Then what’s troubling you?” His dark eyes continue to search mine. “You’re tense. I canfeelit.”

I hesitate, knowing how precarious this conversation could be. But these thoughts have been circling for days, and I can’t keep them contained any longer. If I do, I might burst from it.

“I was just thinking about the future,” I admit, my voice softer than I intended.

“The future?” he repeats, his head tilting slightly.

I gesture around the luxurious room. “Is this all there will ever be for me? These rooms? This...” I pause, searching for the right word. “This gilded cage?”

His wings stiffen, and frost cracks and blossoms along every key of the harpsichord like frozen veins—elegant and deadly.

I misstepped.

“I didn’t mean?—“

“You feel trapped,” he cuts me off. “Even with everything I’ve given you.”

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