“It’s dangerous to let power like this fester,” Jaxon said, a steel edge under his tender words as his fingers dug harder into her flesh, pinning her in place. “I’m just keeping you safe, Starling.”
“Jaxon—” she shoved at his chest but he just grunted, then laughed when she clawed at his arms.
“You’d let this destroy you if I stopped now,” he said, his fingers digging into her hips as she twisted in his grip. “Stop fighting me, Araya. You’re the one making it hurt this time—you need this.”
Her body gave in before her mind did.
Her fists unclenched. Her breathing slowed, syncing with his as he kept drawing her power into himself. He was right—she needed this. She neededhim. No matter how loudly something deep inside her screamed that she didn’t.
Jaxon sighed in contentment, loosening his grip to run his free hand down her back in long, soothing strokes. “That’s it, Starling. Let go.”
And then—finally, he stopped.
“You took too much,” Araya gasped, shuddering in his grip. Her voice was slurred and distant—like it belonged to someone else. Cold crawled through her veins, her magic guttering to a flicker.
Jaxon clicked his tongue, shifting her off his lap. She sagged into the couch, too exhausted to support her own weight as he crossed the room to the bar cart. Glass clinked softly as he poured, draining it in a single swallow before turning back to face her.
“I left you with exactly what any unbonded breeding female gets,” he said, his voice clipped. “If you didn’t have me—this would be your normal.”
Araya could only stare at him, her vision blurring. Why would he do that to her? She blinked hard, trying to swallow the tears before he saw them—but of course he did.
He sighed, crossing back to her. His thumb stroked over her cheek, brushing the tears away from the corners of her eyes before tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at him.
“You fought me,” he said gently—answering the question she hadn’t asked. “You promised to trust me. But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t—” she couldn’t focus enough to finish the thought. She hadn’t meant to fight him. Had she?
“It’s my fault, really,” Jaxon said, ignoring her protest. “I’ve been too lenient with you. But you need to remember, Starling, I give you more because Iwantto. If you ever question me like that again…” he shook his head. “I’ll have no choice but to treat you like the rest. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Jaxon,” she whispered—because what else could she say?
He smiled down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the backs of his fingers. For a moment, Araya leaned into it—her body betraying her with the instinct to be soothed. To feel safe, even when she knew better. Shame prickled hot in her chest. Why did she always give in to him so easily?
“You’ll feel better after you get some sleep,” Jaxon said, plucking a blanket off the arm of the couch. He tucked it around her, easing her down onto the cushions. “It’s been a hard night, Starling. But you’ll feel better in the morning. Now what do you say?”
“Thank you,” she murmured, the words spilling automatically from her cracked lips.
“Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before he straightened, smiling down at her.
“Sleep now,” he said, already turning back to his work. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to take you home.”
This wasn’t real.It couldn’t be. But now Araya knew it somehow was—from the shadows whispering and pooling in the cracks between the stones to the fae prince lounging against the wall, his hands cradled in his lap and his head tipped back, eyes closed. Pretending to sleep.
The dream version of his cell wasn’t cold, but she still shivered,wrapping her arms around herself. She couldn’t even feel the stone beneath her bare feet this time. Was this her dream? His? Or was it something else entirely?
“Are you going to keep pretending I don’t exist?” she demanded.
Loren’s eyes stayed closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Would it help if I snored?”
“Did you just make ajoke?” A laugh bubbled out of her, thin and incredulous. “This isn’t funny! Why does this keep happening?”
He opened his eyes slowly, the sharp green gleaming in the strange dim light of the dream. “You tell me,ael’sura,” he said, flashing her a wicked, sharp smile. “Who do you think I am?”
Araya stared at him, her brow furrowed in confusion.Surawas a rune used in Healing—but she was no Healer. The way he said it sounded like a name, or a title.
“Prince Loren of Valendral,” she said cautiously. “Heir to the fae throne. Presumed dead—but obviously not.”
“Yet.” Loren chuckled drily, the sound brittle. He rose in one smooth motion, the chains dragging against the stone with a harsh, metallic rasp. “Is that all you know me as?”
