“You don’t needto be afraid of the queen,” Aerix says, his eyes finding mine. “Not when you have me.”
His words wrap around me like his magic—cool and protective, a shield against everything else. I’ve never felt so safe, even as I stand in the middle of what many would consider to be a courtyard full of monsters.
A new tension fills the air as Mirena and Dimitri step away from the fountain, and I realize with a start that the crowd’s attention is shifting, gazes turning in our direction.
“It’s our turn,” Aerix says. “Are you ready?”
My heart hammers against my ribs, and suddenly, my feet feel glued to the ground.
But this is what I wanted, isn’t it? To stand beside my dark prince—to be seen as his equal? To belong in theNight Court, to be protected from creatures who could snap my neck with a flick of their hand?
“Yes,” I say, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice.
Aerix gives me a small, satisfied smile and takes my hand, leading me through the crowd that parts silently before us. The blood fountain looms larger as we approach, and the diamonds on my bodice glitter, as if eager to join the display.
We stop at the spot where the king and Mirena performed their feedings, and Aerix turns to face me. Then slowly, deliberately, he raises his wrist to his mouth. His eyes remain locked on mine as his fangs pierce his skin, drawing beads of blood that well up and drip onto the ground between us.
One drop. Two. Three.
Each one is a declaration. An offering to the court itself.
My chest tightens as I watch, my hands curling into fists.
Am I supposed to let him bite my wrist, too? Is there some sort of night fae/consort bonding ritual that he didn’t tell me about?
Millions of questions must be flashing across my eyes as he extends his bleeding wrist to me, his expression both challenge and invitation.
The crowd holds its collective breath, waiting to see what I’ll do.
I simply stare at the blood trailing down his pale skin, and then I understand.
The other royals fed from their humans… but Aerix is offering himself tome.
“Go on,” he tells me softly. “Taste.”
His gaze stays on mine, his eyes more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen. They’re full of something that might befear.Not of me, but of rejection.
“This is proof,” he whispers, so softly that only I can hear, “that I would give you anything. My life is in your hands, Zoey.” His voice catches on my name. “Be gentle with it.”
The words strike something deep within me. Because he’s not just asking me to be careful with his blood. He’s asking me to be gentle withhim—with his heart, his soul, and with everything he keeps hidden beneath his cold, deadly, beautiful exterior.
And so, I take his wrist and bring it to my lips.
The first taste of his blood is rich and ancient, thrumming with power. His air magic hums inside me, flowing through my veins, binding us together in ways I can’t comprehend, but can feel with every fiber of my being.
As I drink, a shudder works through me as his essence flows across my tongue. Because this isn’t justblood. It’s him—his power, his magic, his very life force.
I can feel his heartbeat as if it’s my own. I can sense the cool rush of his magic as it mingles with my blood. Even when he’s let me touch the sensitive base of his wings, it wasn’t as intimate as this.
That was him permitting me access to his vulnerability. This—right here, right now—is him surrendering it completely.
My fingers tighten around his arm, nails digging into his skin as I pull him closer.
“Zoey,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “You’ve had enough.”
I don’t want to stop. I wantmore.But his breaths quicken, and I know I have to listen to him.
It might ruin him if I don’t.