Page 64 of Shattered Stars

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“And now?” I let the magic seep from my mind, inviting him in, showing him just how much I want him, how and where.

“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “Yeah, now I can see.”

However, as much as I tempt him with ever more erotic scenes in my head, the professor is resolute. He’s not touching me tonight, not when the principal could walk in unannounced any second.

I’m left to slink back to my room, thankful I’ve learned something new, but frustrated too.

Winnie’s engrossed in writing an essay when I return, so I grab the discarded book from the floor and lift it into my lap.

I read the story of Queen Æðelflæd while Winnie finishes her essay, occasionally peering up to look at me. When I’ve finished that story, I climb into bed with the book and read all the others. Some are ludicrous – clearly complete fantasy. Others feel like they could have happened to someone I knew even yesterday. I’m still reading when Winnie climbs into her pajamas and brushes her teeth, continuing to flip pages as she turns off the overhead light.

It’s the early hours of the morning when I finish, dropping the book carefully to the floor and curling up under the covers, not bothering to undress.

I lie awake, drifting to sleep slowly, the stories tangling in my head as I do, the faces of those five knights swimming around and around in my mind.

22

Azlan

For a moment,everyone freezes to watch the massive beast crashing through the trees. Half wolf, half human, its eyes flashing with a wildness in the dark.

It’s massive, a foot taller than me, and twice my bulk, its strength obvious in its every movement.

It’s on top of the first man before he even has a chance to react, ripping out his throat in a torrent of blood. Then it’s pouncing on the next and the others are fleeing through the trees, the werebeast swerving after them with the dexterity and speed of a creature half its size.

The men around me watch the beast go, caught in indecision for a second or two.

I take my opportunity, firing my magic at them. It knocks them back into action and they come streaming towards me. I duck and dive as they shoot their magic back at me. There are many of them, but they’re poorly trained, their magic weak and ineffective, and half of them are dead before they make it through the trees.

Closer, I can see they’re young – the same age as the Moreau boy, as Rhi. I hesitate and a bolt scorches across my shoulder, the smell of burned flesh singeing my nose. I grimace.

“We don’t have to do this,” I say, deflecting their magic with my own, dodging more blows.

“You’re surrendering?” one asks me with a sneer, “because we were told to take no prisoners.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I growl.

The man laughs. “You’re outnumbered.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. I send a bolt of magic at his gut, and he flies through the trees, crashing into a trunk and collapsing unconscious. I should finish him off, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Besides which, I’m dealing with the other five men hurtling their kindergarten magic my way. I slam magic into two, watching them collapse to the ground and then the remaining three are on me, punching, kicking and hitting. Luckily their combat skills are about as hopeless as their magical ones and I have two out cold in a matter of minutes.

The final one swings back his fist to punch my face, but I uppercut him right on the jaw. I flinch as I hear his neck snap and watch as the lights go out. Dead. Another one dead.

I didn’t have a choice. It was them or me. And I have a mate. A fated mate, one I’m not prepared to leave heart broken.

Do these men have loved ones too? Mothers, fathers, girlfriends, boyfriends? People who will be left devastated when they don’t return. I shake my head. Such a waste. Then I crouch down and inspect them. Are they the Wolves of Night? Or from some other gang? Or perhaps infiltrators from the West? It’s hard to tell. They could be smugglers. Ones who didn’t take kindly to us disturbing their racket. I look more closely at them. One has a vivid burn running up the length of his arm. Another the welt of a burn covering his left cheek. A third has hishands wrapped in bandages. What the hell caused those? Magic? Something they were smuggling?

I step away from the bodies and squint through the darkness. I can see the distant flash of magic, the roar of the werebeast and then silence.

I wait, catching my breath, clouds of it puffing through the air in front of my face.

I’ve never faced a werebeast before, but if it comes for me next, I’ll be ready. I’ll give everything I have. Unlike those men, I am going to return to my loved one. To my Rhianna.

Then I hear the soft pad of feet. I step forward, peering into the trees. Ready.