Page 38 of Stolen Star

Aerix’s wings shift as he turns to face me.

“Tonight is the night of the full moon,” he says, his midnight eyes reflecting the starlight, as if it’s a part of his soul. “When all night fae, regardless of station, celebrate in the streets.”

“And you’re taking me there?”

“Yes.” His wings extend, stirring the air around us. “Tonight, you’ll walk at my side, dressed as you deserve, where the entire court can see who you belong to.”

My breath catches, remembering my drawing—the one he took, the one he plans to frame in gold.

“Why now?” I can’t stop myself from asking. “Yesterday, I wasn’t sure how long it would be until you’d even want to talk to me again. And today...”

His thumb traces my lower lip, silencing me.

“Because I realized,” he says, “that what I fear more than anyone stealing you from me is you wanting to leave. Knowing that what I was giving you might not be enough to make you stay—that your desire to escape could outweigh everything I offered—terrifies me more than death.”

His confession takes my breath away, and I stare up at him—at this beautiful prince of darkness who kills without remorse and rules through fear.

The prince who’s apparently afraid of losing me. The one who tells me he loves me in every way that counts, even if he can never bring himself to say the words first.

Before I can respond, he steps away, motioning to the edge of the courtyard as a sleek black shape emerges from the shadows. Nyx, his jaguar, prowls toward us, her golden eyes gleaming, her muscles rippling beneath her midnight coat.

“Come,” Aerix says to me. “Tonight, we cross the blood moat. Tonight, you’ll see what it means to be mine in the Night Court.”

He lifts me onto Nyx’s back before mounting behind me, his arms encircling my waist, his chest pressed against my back. I feel the soft rustle of his wings folding tight against him, the cold trail of his breath on my neck.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“Yes,” I manage to say, overwhelmed by the proximity of him, by the promise of freedom after so long in captivity.

“Hold on tight,” he tells me, and then Nyx leaps forward, her powerful limbs carrying us toward the crimson moat that separates the palace from the town beyond.

As we approach the wooden bridge that spans it, I catch sight of my reflection in the blood-tinged waterand nearly gasp. Diamonds glittering against dark fabric, hair swept into elegant waves, sitting tall and straight before Aerix.

Not his pet. Not his prisoner.

His consort, for him to display for the Night Court to see.

I snuggle back into his hold, his arms tight around me. Safe.

His.

Warmth curls inside me at the thought.

We cross the bridge, the sounds of revelry growing louder with each of Nyx’s strides. Music with a pulsing, primal beat. Laughter that’s both joyous and menacing.

As we make our way down a narrow, winding street, the crowd parts for us. But it’s not the respectful scene from my drawing. Instead, I’m met with predatory stares, hushed whispers, and pointing fingers.

“Look at the prince’s little pet,” a female with red hair says to her companion.

“Dressed up like she’s one of us,” another sneers.

“I wonder if she tastes as sweet as she looks,” a male voice calls out, sending ripples of laughter through the crowd.

I stiffen. Because it’s the same as last time. It doesn’t matter what I wear—I’m nothing to them. As long as I’m human, I’ll never be anything to them other than their next meal.

Aerix’s body tenses, the air turning cold and sharp around us.

Then, from our left, a muscled man with jagged scars across his face steps forward.

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