Page 71 of Broken Star

But as I near the base of his wings, I remember what happened last time and hesitate.

His body tenses even more, his fingers digging harder into my hips, pulling me closer.

“Keep going,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice thick with desire.

It’s not a request. It’s a command laced with something deeper.

My heart tumbles in my chest. “Are you sure?”

A dangerous smile curves his lips. “I never say or do anything without being sure,” he says, and something in the room shifts—like the air itself is bowing to his will.

The words sink into me, anchoring me in place, drowning me in the certainty of him. Ofus.

“Then I won’t stop,” I say, holding his gaze as I let my fingers drift to where his wings meet his back, as slowly and carefully as possible.

The raised skin there is soft—almost impossibly smooth—and the slightest pressure makes his breath catch, his wings trembling slightly.

“Is this okay?” I ask, barely more than a whisper against his skin.

“It’s perfect,” he says roughly, and as I continue, he leans forward so his forehead rests against my shoulder, as if he can’t keep upright without bracing himself against me. A soft hiss of wind swirls up from behind the chair as if to steady him, and icy pinpricks tickle my spine.

Prince Aerix Nightborne—a ruthless, untouchable, predator in the shadows—is unraveling from my touch.

I’ve never felt so empowered in my life.

So, I move my fingers in slow, careful circles on the sensitive base of his wings. Each pass draws new sounds from him—groans, gasps, and ragged inhalations as he shakes and shudders, his hips moving in a steady rhythm against mine.

But eventually, with what seems like monumental effort, he lifts his head to meet my gaze. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, filled with an intensity that makes my heart race.

“Not here. Not like this,” he says roughly, and in one fluid motion, he stands, lifting me with him and carrying me to the bed, where the rest of our clothes come off in a rush of heated kisses.

We’re so close. Chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. And before long, I’m on my back against the sheets, fully bared to him as he hovers over me, his wings flared wide in a primal show of dominance.

Ribbons of cool air flicker around us, forming swirls of sparkling mist that cloak us both.

“Drink from me,” I say, and he goes still, as if he’s sure he misheard.

Because in all our time together, I’ve never asked for this. Never invited it.

“Are you sure?” he finally asks, his breaths coming faster, his voice tight with restraint.

I reach up, tracing my fingers along the perfect, strong lines of his face. “Like you, I never say anything without being sure. And I want this,” I tell him. “I want you.Allof you.”

Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe. Or wonder.

“You continue to amaze me,” he murmurs, and then he lowers his head to my neck, heat and cold intertwining in my veins when he bites down.

The cool swirl of his magic tightens around my legs, and my body arches, wanting every last part of him. Because this is nothing like the other times he’s fed from me. It’s far more intimate and consuming, as if he’s claiming more than just my blood.

But all too quickly, he’s pulling back to look at me again.

“That’s all I’ll indulge myself with for now,” he says, and it’s a command, not a question. “We can’t have you weak for what’s coming next.”

“And what’s coming next?” I give him a small, knowing smile, my heart pounding wildly.

“Everything,” he replies, and then his wings close around us, shutting out the orange glow of the hearth and the shadows dancing around the room. “Because you’re mine, Zoey Madison of the Night Court. And I will protect you—no matter what—for as long as you live.”

My heart leaps at his confession.

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