Page 83 of Fallen Star

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and before long, I’ve finished it all.

Steadier now, I take the glass from him and place it down on the nightstand, next to what looks like shortbread cookies. “If that kills me,” I say, “at least I won’t have to deal with you anymore.”

“You’re resilient,” he says. “I’ll give you that.”

“And you’re insufferable.”

His smirk widens. “I’ve been called worse.”

Angrily, I take a cookie and bite.

It melts on my tongue, rich with butter, vanilla, and an herb I can’t quite place.

Aerix leans back against the headboard, his long legs stretched out beside me, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. The casualness of his posture only pisses me off more, like he knows he’s the one in control of this situation.

Which, to be fair, he is.

“Very impressive.” He studies me as I eat, his midnight eyes glittering with amusement.

“The way I inhale cookies?” I reply, grabbing another one.

“The way you bounce back.”

“Glad to know I’m meeting your high standards,” I say, taking another angry bite.

“Tell me something,” he says as I chew what turned out to bewaytoo big of a bite. “All of these things you’re good at. Cooking, gymnastics, cat taming, horseback riding, building pillow fortresses, throwing a punch—or trying to, anyway.”

“How do you know I did horseback riding?” I ask, since there’s no way I ever told him that.

“Your posture when you were on Nyx’s back,” he says simply. “And given that humans in the mortal realm don’t typically ride jaguars, horseback riding was the logical guess.”

I press my lips together, hating that he’s right.

“Anyway,” he continues. “What’s the one thing you’re truly passionate about? The thing you’ve stuck with? The thing that defines you?”

I swallow the cookie, buying time. “I have lots of passions.”

“Do you?” His midnight eyes narrow. “Or do you just have lots of hobbies that you’ve dabbled in?”

“What’s the difference?” I ask, although his words hit closer to home than I’d like.

“The difference,” he says, “is commitment. Dedication. The willingness to pursue something beyond the initial excitement of learning something new.”

“I stick with things,” I protest, but even as I say it, I know it’s not entirely true.

Gymnastics lasted until I discovered soccer. Soccer gave way to tennis. Pottery led to painting, then woodworking, then jewelry making. Each one replaced by something new once I’d gotten decent at it.

“I thought so,” he says, leaning back again. “You’ve tried everything, haven’t you? Always searching, always chasing, but never committing. Never sticking around long enough to truly master anything.”

“I just like to explore,” I tell him, which is the same thing I told Patrick. “To keep my options open.”

“You’re searching,” he says, continuing to study me in that annoyingly intense way of his. “Always trying new things, never settling, never finding what truly calls to you.”

“Maybe I just like variety.”

“Or maybe you’re afraid of committing to something and discovering you’re not as naturally talented at it as you’d like to be.”

Anger flares inside me.

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