Page 106 of Shattered Stars

“Ready?” Azlan asks, rolling up onto his knees and coming closer, his hands on her little waist.

She nods, but it’s not good enough for him. He wants to hear her say it.

“Rhianna, words,” he growls.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully only I see. I jerk my eyebrow, and mouth. “Don’t keep him waiting, sweetheart, you have no idea how fucking irresistible you are.”

She rolls her eyes a second time, then says, “Fuck me.”

And the lady doesn’t need to ask twice. Azlan grips her tight, keeping her still, pushing his way inside her tight hole. And I can feel him, feel him through her delicate walls.

She gasps, her head falling backwards and knocking against my friend’s broad chest.

“Okay?” I whisper.

“Hmmmm,” she moans, and I lose my ability to hold back. I thrust into her, Azlan doing the same, her little body buffeted between our two larger, bigger, stronger ones.

For a moment, I worry it’s too much for her, too forceful, but then her magic is spinning in the air, bright and beautiful, lighting up the darkening room, leaving me in no doubt how much she wants this, how good it’s making her feel.

She cries out, the magic casting her skin in a multitude of colors, her eyes so bright and vibrant, they’re almost otherworldly, and then she’s coming, sweet sounds I’ve neverheard her make rushing from her lips, her body jolting with pleasure. And I think she’s never looked so beautiful.

38

Rhi

It’s sohard to drag myself from these two men, especially when I know being left on my own will mean being left with my thoughts. Their words have gone some way to reassuring me, but not completely. Stone may be able to read my thoughts – the man in black may be able to sense my emotions – but neither of them can know what it feels like to have crimson magic sailing through their veins. The power, the danger, the buzz it elicits. Part of me is desperate to play with it, to try my best to unleash it again, to see what I could do with it. The other part of me is petrified.

Am I a monster? Like my father? The kind of monster who tortured and murdered my mother? Is that what my aunt was hiding me from, protecting me from, all that time: myself?

These thoughts circle around and around in my mind all through an interrogation with York – the principal wanting to know why the chancellor had summoned me – still there as I walk the path back to my dorm. I guess York’s not the onlyone curious about that, because as I near my building, Tristan Kennedy emerges from the shadows to stand in front of me.

It’s dark, the campus quiet, only the fall wind frisking the changing leaves from the forest branches. They spin in the air, falling like confetti around our feet.

“The chancellor sent for you,” he says.

“Wow, news really does fly at a phenomenal speed around this school.” I tilt my head. “Or have you been spying on me again?”

“What did he want?” He frowns. “I didn’t tell. I haven’t told anyone.”

I chew on my lip. For all Tristan Kennedy’s many, many faults that much is true. He hasn’t spilled one single one of my secrets – not about being unregistered, chased by the Wolves of Night, bonded to two men, or wielding crimson magic. Anyone of those secrets would be hot collateral in a place like the academy. Anyone else would have spread them like wildfire.

Then again, I’m not stupid. The reason he’s kept my secrets is to protect himself, not me. He wouldn’t want his golden boy reputation tarnished by a wayward fated mate.

“I know,” I say simply, unable to help scowling back at him. I’m still mad as hell at him but my bond and my body don’t seem to care. Neither does my magic. It’s a damn flirt, fluttering near his, provoking it to come play. I wish my bond, my body and my magic would stop being so damn horny for such an asshole of a man and get a damn grip.

“Does he know?” he says, taking a step forward.

It’s dark, but the night is a cool, clear one, the frigid air nipping at my nose, and I can see his face. He’s worried, anxious. There are deep, dark circles under his eyes I’ve never seen before and his cheeks look almost sunken. Is it just a trick of the moonlight? Or maybe I’m right. He’s concerned about being dragged into my mess if all my secrets are revealed.

“About what, Tristan?” I snap.

He fidgets on the spot, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and scrubbing his hand through his hair. I’ve never seen him look so uncomfortable.

“About your mates, about the bonds.”

I shake my head. “No, you’re perfectly safe.”

“Are you?” he asks anxiously, eyes flicking to mine.