Page 31

Zoey

When Aethelthryth escorts me to Aerix’s quarters for dinner, the note’s handwriting plays through my thoughts on repeat, each curve and slash of the letters burning behind my eyes.

Aerix is waiting by the fireplace, his wings retracted, staring into the flames as though deep in thought.

“You look troubled,” he says as I enter, his gaze following me with that predatory focus I’ve grown so familiar with.

My heart stutters at the intensity of his midnight stare, warmth spreading through my veins despite the chill that always surrounds him.

“I do have some things on my mind.” I keep my eyes locked on his and move closer, studying his face for any hint of reaction. “Mainly, Matt’s murder. And the note left with his body.”

Aerix’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in the air as I walk toward him. A slight cooling, like a breeze through an open window, even though all his windows are closed.

“What about it?” he finally asks.

“The handwriting,” I say, and I’m only a foot away from him now—close enough that I can see his breaths quicken as he rakes his gaze over my body. “I compared it to your signature on my painting. The one you so graciously improved for me.”

He tilts his head, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk of his. “Did you now?”

“The letters are different.” I hold his gaze, refusing to back down, even though my head feels dizzy from standing so close to him. “Your capital A’s don’t have that extra curl. Your lowercase T’s have softer crosses. You didn’t write those notes.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers along my arm, and I suck in a sharp breath. “How observant of you,” he says after it’s clear to both of us that I’m not going to pull away. “Although, I fail to see why this matters.”

Tension crackles in the air between us.

But I think about the note again, shake myself out of it, and catch his wrist, stopping him from distracting me more than he already is. “Tell me you killed them,” I say, trembling slightly at the feel of his soft skin under my fingers. “Jake and Matt.”

“Why would I do that?” His smirk widens.

“Because fae can’t lie. So, tell me, Aerix. Did you kill them and write those notes?”

He studies me for a long moment, his eyes gleaming with something that looks dangerously close to pride.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“Do you think you’re the only one whose royal feels protective over what belongs to them?” he asks, his voice a hypnotic melody that draws me deeper into his orbit. “The only one who cares?”

My heart stutters, caught off guard by the diversion. “Where are you going with this?” I ask carefully, narrowing my eyes as I study him.

“I’m saying that I didn’t explicitly claim responsibility for their deaths. Not even to Cierra when you witnessed our squabble in here.” He extracts his wrist from my grip, looking amused while he does. “You simply assumed.”

“But—” I stop, my mind racing. “Jake and Matt touched me. And the notes said?—”

“You weren’t the only one they touched.” His wings unfurl slightly in a casual display of power that reminds me of the dangerous line I’m toeing right now. “You were, however, there both times it happened.”

I comb through my memories, and it doesn’t take long to hit me.

How could I have been so blinded to it before now?

Jake in the garden, bumping Aurora’s shoulder as he stormed past us.

Matt in the courtyard, brushing Aurora’s sleeve.

“Aurora,” I whisper, and everything clicks into place.

The way she never reacts to anything. How she stays away from everyone, calm and collected while chaos swirls around her. Her perfectly measured responses, her careful movements, her determination to not just survive in the Night Court, but to thrive in it.

“The king’s favorite,” Aerix confirms my suspicions. “She belongs to him, just as you belong to me. And he doesn’t take kindly to others touching what’s his.”

My legs feel weak, and I sink onto the edge of the nearest armchair, trying to process this revelation.

Aurora purposefully stepped between Jake and me during our fight.

She saw me take that rake to him. By putting herself in his way, she ensured I’d never have to fend him off again, since she knew the king would kill him.

I should be horrified.

But I’m not. Because I might have just found myself a powerful human ally in this twisted, dangerous place. Someone I can trust when I’m not in Aerix’s quarters.

“That’s why Aurora was watching me,” I realize. “She wanted to see if I’d figure it out.”

“And you did.” He lowers himself slightly and reaches down, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “It was enjoyable to watch you piece it together yourself.”

With that, his hand finds my waist, and he’s pulling me up out of the chair as he stands. His wings curl forward, surrounding us both—not to trap me, but to shield me from the world.

To keep me safe.

“Would you have done it?” I ask, breathless from how close he is. “Would you have killed for me?”

“Without hesitation. Because you’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.” He pulls back and studies me, searching my face for answers. “Does that frighten you?”

I should say yes. That would be the human answer—the right answer.

“No,” I say instead, and the word feels like freedom. “It’s the opposite. I want it.”

Something flashes in his eyes—recognition, maybe. Or triumph.

“Say that again,” he demands, and he glances at the curve of my neck, his eyes dilating in the way they always do before he feeds.

“I want to know that you’ll destroy anyone who tries to hurt me,” I repeat, speaking so steadily that there’s no way he can question me. “That you’ll kill them for so much as touching me.”

His midnight gaze slides down my body, lingering on my parted lips.

“You should be scared,” he murmurs, but there’s a note of hungry amusement in his tone, as if he’s daring me to take it back.

“I’m not. Because I trust you,” I tell him, and when I push up on my toes to close the distance between us, I’m hit with the fact that despite everything, it’s not a lie.

I actually trust that Prince Aerix Nightborne of the Night Court will do anything in his power to keep me safe.

And so, I lean further into him. He tastes like winter air, and the kiss deepens so suddenly that it knocks the breath from my lungs.

Everything about him is overwhelming. His cool lips, the chill rolling off his body, and the commanding push of his tongue against mine. And as my body arches into him, there’s no denying it for a second longer—I want more.

He must sense it, because he retracts his wings quickly enough for him to pull his shirt off.

I trace the sharp lines of muscle on the perfect planes of his chest, a spark of triumph flaring in me when he groans, his eyes sliding half-shut as he gives in to my touch.

It isn’t long until his hands find the hem of my dress, and he pulls it over my head in one fluid motion, leaving me almost bare before him in my thin white chemise.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as a few snowflakes fall around us, dissolving in the heat of my skin when they drift too close. “Because once I decide to take something—to fully take it—I don’t turn back.”

I meet his gaze and let him see the simmering hunger in my eyes—one that likely mirrors his own. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” I tell him, my voice steady despite the wildfire racing through my veins. “I’m yours, Aerix. I think I’ve been yours since you pulled me from that water.”

That’s apparently all the encouragement he needs. Because he crushes his mouth to mine again, lifts me up, and brings me with him as he sits down on the armchair, situating my legs around his waist as he alternates between sweet presses of his lips against my neck and sharper grazes of his fangs.

But he doesn’t break the skin.

He’s teasing me—tempting me.

As he does, the top of my undergarments slip, threatening to slide down. He notices, of course—he notices everything—and in one quick movement, he peels the straps lower, baring more of my skin as a current of cold air snakes around my shoulders.

“You’re so delicate. So warm,” he murmurs, burying his face in my neck again. “The only human I’ve ever…”

I tense, and he pulls back, his eyes hardening as he swallows down the rest of what he was going to say.

The breeze around us calms, and the flurries stop falling.

“The only human you’ve ever what?” I ask quietly, my heart pounding, my body warming with anticipation.

“The only human I’ve ever wanted to be fully intimate with,” he admits, and his eyes search mine, as if he’s bracing himself for rejection.

I blink, stunned.

His confession shouldn’t surprise me. Aerix’s refusal to be intimate with his humans has been mentioned to me before.

Still, it’s one thing to suspect, and another to have him say it out loud.

“Why me?” I ask, resting my forearms against the low back of the chair and gazing so deeply into his eyes that it’s like I’m seeing into a completely new part of him.

“Because your soul calls to me. Your fire, your passion, your defiance, your confidence, your bravery, your beauty, your blood…” he trails off, his wings flaring, his body tightening beneath me. “You belong to me. And I’m going to have you. Every single part of you.”

The possessiveness in his words should terrify me. Instead, it feels like coming home—like finally finding the place where I belong.

But I don’t have time to think about it further. Because his lips are crashing against mine again, and he sits straighter, his hips pushing up into mine as my fingers explore the sculpted planes of his back.

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. Of us.

“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. All of 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.

Because now that I’ve given in to being his, he’s mine, too.

Another stroke of the base of his wings confirms it.

“You have every single part of me, Aerix Nightborne. Forever,” I say, and as we join together, the remaining tether to my old life—that last part of me clinging to who I was before coming to the Night Court—finally snaps free.