Page 82 of Golden Star

No.

I can’t take another hit.

So, I raise mine right back and scream, forcing as much magic as possible out at him to stop him from pushing me down.

A shockwave of air bursts from my palm and collides with his magic between us, the force splitting the night with a sharp, crackling roar that startles me nearly as much as him.

His smirk returns, this time sharper, almost triumphant. “There is it,” he says. “Air magic.”

“I’m not…” I trail off, relieved when he doesn’t attack again. “I don’t understand.”

He moves in a dark blur straight at me, crashing into me and slamming my back to the ground.

My breath escapes in a choked gasp, eyes wide as he pins me down, anchoring me in place.

“Stay still,” he commands, his face hovering inches from mine, shadowing both of us with the fierce spread of his wings. “Relax.”

His eyes lock onto mine, dark and probing, and a strange calm floods my senses.

The world softens, and my fear blurs around the edges.

It’s him.

Somehow, he’s doing this. Manipulating my emotions. Making me want to relax when I should be wanting to fight.

“Get off me.” I try to push up, but his wings wrap around us, the world narrowing to a prison of feathers and shadows.

“Not until I know what you are,” he says, and I can barely see now that his wings are blocking the stars.

I’m trapped.

Not knowing what else to do, I slowly reach into mypocket as I continue to squirm beneath him, my fingers wrapping around the whisper stone.

“I’m fae,” I say, but as I speak, I know it’s not a complete truth.

“Not just fae.” His face is so close now, eyes dark and unrelenting, insisting on more.

“I came here to escape the Winter Court. Then you attacked the moment we crossed that ravine, and now you’re trying to kill me,” I say. “I don’t know what I am, but I do know that attacking me and torturing me won’t get me to tell you something that’s a mystery, even to me.”

Through all of this, I don’t release the stone.

“You used air magic and water magic,” he continues to push. “Yet, you’re not of my kind. Your blue eyes—and your lack of wings—are enough to tell me that.”

His breath is sweet, like a drug he’s infusing into my soul. It makes me stop squirming and relax.

But as I do, I still remember to hold onto the stone.

“I thought I was human until a week ago,” I say, barely able to focus as I float in this warm, winged cocoon he’s creating around us. “I swear it.”

The tension between us crackles, sharp and charged, his face so close I can see the flecks of red in his dark eyes.

He takes a deep breath as he studies me, as if he’s unsure whether to believe me or not.

Believe me,I think.Please.

“If you don’t know what you are, then perhaps I’ll be able to taste what you are,” he decides, and his head dips down, his lips brushing the skin of my neck with an almost cruel softness.

Then two pricks cut through my skin—fangs—and I cry out, the pain mingling with a warmth that spreads like wildfire through my veins, wrapping me in a mix of agony and unwelcome bliss that numbs my bones and drowns my senses until I can barely form a single thought.

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