Page 80 of Fallen Star

“I’d rather stand.”

His smirk falters, and his eyes flash with something darker—something dangerous. But then he sighs and leans back in his chair, waving a hand dismissively.

“Fine. Stand if it makes you feel better,” he says. “We can do it either way.”

Itas in feeding from me?

Oritas in…

My cheeks flush, and his eyes continue to bore into me, as if he knowsexactlywhat I’m thinking.

Of course he does. He’s the one who coaxed my thoughts in that direction.

“I want my amulet back,” I say, pointedly changing the subject.

“And why would I do that?” He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that makes my stomach twist.

“Because it’s mine,” I say evenly. “You have no right to take it.”

“I have every right,” he counters smoothly. “You belong to me now. Everything you have is mine. Or have you already forgotten what I told you at the river?”

“I don’t belong to you,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m not a piece of property.”

“Oh, but you are.” His eyes narrow, and the temperature in the room drops. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re alive because of me. I saved you from drowning. Twice. I brought you here. I claimed you. Now you’re mine, whether you like it or not. Andjudging by the night we shared in that bed, I believe you’re going to like it. A lot.”

“I move a lot in my sleep,” I say quickly, heat rising into my cheeks again. “I wasunconscious.You can’t judge the actions I made while I was unconscious.”

“The unconscious mind projects what we want in our awakened state, but are too self-conscious to act on otherwise,” he says simply.

“You’re completely out of your?—”

“Enough.” He rises from his chair in one fluid motion, and suddenly he’s standing in front of me, towering over me with a presence that’s almost suffocating. “I could have left you to die. I could have handed you over to my father to do with as he pleased. But I didn’t. I chose you. I spared you. And this is how you repay me? With defiance and disrespect?”

“I’m a person. With skills, and thoughts, and…” I trail off, an idea popping into my mind. “Maybe we can make a deal? I could be useful to you in other ways. I’m good at a lot of things. Cooking, for instance—you saw that yourself. Or I could help around here. Organize things. I’m also really good at?—”

“Stop.” His voice cuts through my bargaining like a blade. “You seem to be under the impression that you have something to negotiate with.”

“No—youstop interrupting me,” I snap back.

His hand shoots out, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him, his cold fingers sending a chill over my skin.

“You’re nothing,” he says, low and venomous. “A human. A fragile, insignificant creature who doesn’t know her place. And yet here you are, acting as if you have a right to bargain with a prince of the Night Court. Maybe I was right when I told my father how stupid you are. How much of a brat.”

I try to pull away, but his grip is like iron. And, as we stand there in a silent staring battle, my mind’s a whirlwindof fear, anger, and something else—something I don’t want to acknowledge.

Something that makes my cheeks burn and my pulse quicken.

“Speechless,” he murmurs, smiling cruelly. “That’s more like it.”

“I’m not stupid,” I say. “And I’m not going to just give in to being your personal blood bag.”

His eyes darken, and his grip on my chin tightens. “No. You’re going to fight,” he says, his fangs slowly extending. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of breaking that spirit of yours.”

He’s not wrong about that first part.

So, drawing on every bit of gymnastics training I have—along the bit I can remember from those few weeks of karate classes I took in fifth grade—I twist away from his grip and aim a kick at his chest.

He moves back just enough for my foot to miss, his midnight eyes lighting up with amusement. “Impressive flexibility,” he says. “Show me more.”

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