Page 53 of Broken Star

“Couldn’t give me five more minutes?” His voice is low, laced with sleep, rough in a way that makes my stomach tighten.

I cross my arms, ignoring the way my magic flares with frustration. “We’re here,” I tell him. “Beneath the Algol Star.”

A lazy smirk crosses his lips. “You mean you didn’t burst in here to finally get a taste?”

My stomach flips.

“If I was going to drink from you,” I say, keeping my voice cool and controlled, “I wouldn’t wake you up first.”

“Maybe I should go back to sleep then,” he says, and a breeze rushes through the cabin, making his hair look more perfectly tousled than it already did.

Why does everything about him have totemptme so much?

“Look—you can either help me dock this thing, or I’ll do it alone,” I tell him, standing strong, taking shallow breaths so I don’t inhale too much of his deliciously wintry scent. “And given that I have no experience in docking ships, I recommend the latter.”

He shifts, stretching his arms above his head one more time before swinging his legs over the bed.

“You mean you don’t want to take another swim?” he asks.

More wind rushes through the cabin—stronger this time—and I spin on my heel, making my way back on deck.

When I emerge, something else catches my attention. Another island in the distance, obscured by shifting clouds that part just enough to reveal a massive, ancient-looking stone tower rising high in the sky, ancient and foreboding, its edges black against the starlight.

Riven’s next to me a moment later, studying the horizon, his presence pressing against me like a growing storm.

“Which one are we heading toward?” he asks, glancing back and forth between both islands.

I force myself to focus. Not on him—not on the way my magic stirs in his presence—but on the island. The one bathed in moonlight, its soft sands gleaming, its trees swaying in the warm breeze.

“The peaceful looking one,” I say with relief, stepping away from him.

Breathe,I think.Focus on the salty sea air—onanythingbut him.

“Yes, it does look peaceful,” he muses, watching the shoreline as our ship glides forward. “Which is exactly why it might be dangerous.”

I turn to him, frowning. “You think the one with the creepy, cloud-covered tower is thelessdangerous option?”

“The most dangerous places are the ones that invite you in,” he replies, watching the welcoming, serene island with distrust. “After all, the deadliest predators are usually the most beautiful.”

His words sink into me before I realize what he’s doing—before I catch the pointed glance he slides in my direction and the slow, knowing smirk that follows.

The waves lap harder against the sides of the ship, the wind blowing the sails slightly off course.

Riven watches, amused but unconvinced.

“Thinking about how much you hate me?” he asks, his voice as smooth as the sea. Then softer, more invitingly, he adds, “Or perhaps about how beautiful I am?”

I focus on the winds, getting us back on course, which is the only thing keeping me from throttling him.

“I’m thinking we’re better off avoiding the island that looks like it belongs to a villain monologuing from his iron throne,” I say, although I can’t help looking at the paradise-like island with more caution now.

“Fair enough,” he says, although I can tell he isn’t convinced.

As we move closer, the details of the island sharpen. Thick, sprawling trees loom over the sand, their gnarled roots snaking out like fingers grasping for something unseen. And then?—

Pigs.

Dozens of them.

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