Page 81 of Fallen Star

I drop into a low crouch and sweep my leg toward his knees.

He staggers slightly, his balance faltering, giving me just enough time to spring to my feet and lunge forward, aiming an elbow at his ribs.

His movements are almost lazy as he twists away.

“Your form is excellent,” he says, studying me as if I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen in his life. “And such precise control. You must have?—”

I interrupt him by spinning into a roundhouse kick, putting all my strength behind it.

He catches my ankle mid-air.

But rather than using it to throw me off balance, he holds me there.

“Let. Me. Go.” I use his grip as leverage, pushing off the ground with my other foot in a move that knocks him back.

Then, in a blur of speed, he’s behind me, his hands gripping my wrists and twisting my arms behind my back.

“Just as I hoped,” he murmurs, his breath cold against the back of my neck. “You’re going to make this fun.”

“I’m not here to perform for you,” I snarl, struggling against his hold.

“But you are.” His grip tightens, and suddenly I realize how close we are. “Everything you do is for my entertainment now. And I must say—you’ve put on quite a show. I’m very much enjoying it.”

Horror dawns on me as I realize—he’s been toying with me this whole time. Letting me think I had a chance. Watching me spin and flip and fight like I’m some sort of performer in a circus.

He’s in front of me before I can react, grabbing my wrist and twisting me around, pulling me flush against his chest. His other arm snakes around my waist, locking me in place.

“I hate you,” I whisper, but my voice shakes.

“No, you don’t,” he says. “Not really. Your heart’s racing, but not from fear.” His cold fingers trace my neck, finding my pulse point. “You enjoyed it too—the thrill of the fight, the way our bodies moved together. You gave me a wonderful performance. Now, it’s my turn.”

“Don’t—” I say, but he interrupts me again—this time with his fangs piercing my neck.

Zoey

The pain issharp but brief, quickly shifting to something darker and deeper. It’s like being wrapped in silk and shadow, and calm blooms inside me, spreading from the point where his fangs sink into my skin through the rest of my body.

I try to fight the feeling, to hold onto my anger and fear. But it slips away like water through my fingers, replaced by a floating sensation that makes everything cloudy and dream-like.

The room spins, and I’m distantly aware of my heartbeat pounding in my ears like a drum. My breaths come shallow and quick. But most disturbingly, heat blooms inside me, centering in places I shouldn’t let myself think about.

I should be terrified. Furious. Disgusted.

Instead, my skin is on fire, and I melt into him as his fangs sink deeper.

A low groan escapes him—a sound that vibrates through his chest and straight into mine.

“Stop,” I whisper, but it comes out as a plea, soft and shaky, without the bite I meant it to have.

His lips curl against my neck, and he drinks slower, savoring me.

The heat in my veins sharpens into something else—something raw and consuming. Every nerve in my body comes alive. The soft brush of his lips against my skin is electric, the cool press of his fingers on my waist both grounding and maddening.

My body’s betraying me in ways I can’t even process.

No,a small voice inside my mind finds its way through.Fight.

I try to push against his chest, but my hands fall uselessly, my fingers clutching weakly at the fabric of his shirt instead of shoving him away.

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