Page 29 of The Breaker of Stars

“What’s it like?” he asked finally, deep voice soothing in the darkness. “Nine Fates.”

“It’s…heavy,” I explained. “I’m used to it, because it’s all I’ve known. But the first time I realized it was abnormal was when everyone else would talk about the silent stretches. Sometimes, they go days without feeling the need to read. My Fates are louder, always calling me. And when I have a tenuous grip on the power as I have recently, it’s harder to keep a wall between reality and their realm.”

“Their realm?” Cypherion rolled onto his side to face me.

I canted my head toward him, my hair fanning out across the pillow. “Just as there’s a Spirit Realm and other worlds in existence, it is assumed the celestial powers have one.”

He considered. “But you like your magic, despite how heavy it is?”

“I love it,” I assured him, turning onto my side eagerly. “It’s difficult at times, but it’s mine. It’s strength and purpose and direction.” Even if I was misguided now, my magic was the polestar I returned to, the thing that ran life through my veins.

“I’ve always wondered what that’s like,” Cypherion said.

“What what’s like?”

“To be so certain about your role.”

“Is this about your title?” I asked. When he declined to answer, I continued, “Cypherion, did you notice how not one person in that war room had anything to say against Ophelia’s appointment of you? Not one person thought she was making a mistake. Don’t convince yourself she is.”

“Stargirl…” He sighed. Tentatively, he reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. It was so gentle—a touch he hadn’t expressed for months, but one I craved. “It’s so much more than that.”

“I know you’re scared because of your father. I know you’re worried because you feel like a part of you is missing.” He’d told me enough about his family before Daminius for me to put the pieces together. At my words, his hand paused, cupping my cheek, and I whispered pleadingly, “But see the good in yourself that the rest of us do.”

“I think I’m still finding it,” he admitted, voice low. His hand drifted lower, thumb stroking over my pulse point.

“Let me help you.” I shifted closer to him. He’d been intoxicating as I stitched his wound. His large hands on my hips with a searing ownership, thumbs stroking over my ribs, like it was the only thing rooting him to the moment. His hard length pressed against my center with a shift of my hips.

Perhaps it had been a horrid idea.

It took every ounce of strength not to lean into him then because I remembered. I remembered his lips tracing every inch of my skin. As I thought of it now, my body heated.

I squirmed beneath the blankets, and Cypherion stilled, eyes dropping as if understanding what was going through my mind. When he lifted his gaze, the blues deepened with a want so potent, it swallowed the air around us.

“Vale,” he sighed.

Please, I wanted to beg. Please don’t put up a wall. Don’t leave me as so many have. Please just be here now, with me, in whatever capacity you can.

It was on the tip of his tongue, I thought. To say “fuck the rules” and devour me. It was in his searing stare, in the gentle drop of his hand down my ribs, his thumb coasting over my nipple as it pebbled against the silk.

But I wouldn’t say any of it. I would not break my promise of tempting him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his gaze following the repeated movement. I nearly whimpered with restraint at the sound of his voice, so husky and desiring.

“Fuck, Vale.” He exhaled again, and I held my breath. His fingers toyed with the fabric of my nightgown, slipping under the strap, but not pulling it down. “Say something,” he begged.

“I said I wasn’t going to tempt you.” My voice was shaky. “The decision is yours.”

“Your entire existence is a temptation, Stargirl.” My breath caught in my throat as he gently pulled the strap down my arm a few inches and hovered over me. “Every time you speak, every room you walk into, I fight myself. Seeing you and knowing I can’t have you again destroys me.”

“I’m here, though.”

“You are now.” His hand coasted over my breast and down my stomach, toying with the hem of my nightgown. “You won’t always be.”

Those words, and the broken resolve in them, stuck to the back of my throat.

I didn’t know what the end of this journey would bring for me. For us. What the Fates would reveal if—or when—we fixed my readings.

Spirits, I didn’t even know what tomorrow would bring, what promises I could make to him.

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