Page 50 of Golden Star

All because he got close enough to tempt me with those stupidly perfect lips again.

I hate him. Completely and totally hate him.

“Fine.” I stand up, taking my plate with me, enjoying the feeling of looking down on him. “Perhaps it’ll look more appetizing when I’m not in the presence of such unappealing company.”

With that, I storm into my tent and settle down on its hard, bumpy floor.

This stupid cheese and bread will never satisfy the gnawingneedin my stomach for meat. If I were in a grocery store, I’d march to the refrigerator section, rip open a pre-packaged steak, and inhale it on the spot.

I’ve barely taken a bite of the cheese when Riven steps inside, his tall frame filling the small space.

“Leave me alone so I can enjoy my ‘charcuterie board’ in peace,” I snap, glaring at him as the flap of the tent falls shut behind him.

“I thought you didn’t like cheese?” he asks, surprisingly and strangelyplayful.

So much that it takes me off guard.

“What kind of psycho doesn’t like cheese?” I reply.

“Likely a fae who asks for meat.” He raises a hand, and the air shimmers and crystallizes, encircling the tent like a frozen wall.

We might as well be in an igloo.

My eyes dart around, my chest tightening, needing to escape.

“I’d ask if you came in here to kill me, but that wouldmake your torture trial game a lot less fun for you.” I cast my plate to the side and back away, wanting to put as much space between us as possible.

“I created the barrier to stop my men from overhearing,” he says simply.

“From overhearing what?” I shoot back. “The sound of me rejecting your advances again?”

He doesn’t flinch, but there’s something behind his eyes—a pain that flashes for the briefest moment, then vanishes.

“I didn’t come in here for that, although if you’re offering, I won’t say no.” His eyes travel up and down my body in a way that I wish would make me shudder in disgust instead of desire. “I followed you in here because I have something for you.”

My heart pounds, my breath quickening despite my resolve to stay in control. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Not even this?” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls something out, dangling it in front of me like a treat for a trained dog.

My bracelet.

I claw at it to take it back, but he’s faster than me, pulling it away before I can snatch it back.

“You stole it from me,” I say, and rage courses through me, the bracelet swinging in the wind that somehow made its way through the iced over tent.

“I didn’t steal your bracelet from you,” he says, so directly that it must be true. “I went back for it. To the silver tree, in the bushes where you said you lost it.”

I startle, frozen, and not from the ice surrounding us.

“You want something from me in exchange for it,” I say slowly, since after last night, I have a good idea what thatsomethingmight be.

“I want you to trust me,” he says simply. “To know I’m not as heartless as you believe.”

“I don’tbelieveyou’re heartless,” I tell him. “I know it.”

“You’re an infant in this world,” he reminds me. “You know nothing.”

I flinch back, fuming at his arrogance.

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