Midnight Star (Star Touched: Fae Bound #3)

12. Zoey

Zoey

My heart lurches at Aerix’s kiss.

This is a mistake.

I should pull away.

I don’t.

Instead, I melt into him, my body betraying me as I respond to the press of his lips. The way he takes, demands, and yet somehow gives all at once.

A soft breeze stirs in the room, wrapping around us like an invisible tether, as if the very air refuses to let me go. It lifts strands of my hair, and the desire that’s been building inside me—the one I’ve been trying to suppress every time he’s fed from me—blooms into something uncontrollable, consuming me entirely.

The pull between us is magnetic, inescapable. I can feel it in the way his hand slides to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss, tilting my head just enough for him to take what he wants.

His other hand finds my waist, pulling me flush against him, and as our bodies align, something inside me ignites. It’s an electric surge of need, with the heady rush of something far more dangerous than magic.

The chandelier overhead flickers. Cool moisture seeps into the air, bringing the unmistakable scent of rain.

My breath catches.

Because Aerix’s control is slipping.

Suddenly, his wings are out and wrapped around me, stealing the breath from my lips. And, as the force of his need moves us across the room, I realize I’m drowning in it. Because his magic is everywhere. It’s seeping into my skin, wrapping around my lungs like a vice, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

Then, my knees hit the bed.

The impact snaps me back into focus.

If I don’t stop this now, it’s going to escalate into something far more than a kiss or a feeding session.

“Aerix.” My hands land on his chest, and a sharp breeze cuts between us—like the air itself is reluctant to let go. “Wait.”

He stills, and his wings retract.

When I force myself to meet his gaze, it nearly undoes me. Because his midnight eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, swirling with hunger and stormy with desire.

Yet, his hands stay on my waist, as if he’s waiting for me to take it back.

I almost do.

“I’m sorry,” I say instead, even though the words taste like a lie. Like something I don’t even believe myself.

“No, you’re not.” He gazes down at me in challenge. “If you were, you wouldn’t have kissed me back.”

“I wasn’t?—”

“Careful.” His smirk is as sharp as his unnervingly perfect features. “You don’t want to lie to me, Zoey.”

Heat flares in my cheeks. “I wasn’t going to.”

“No?” His thumb brushes against my waist, his fingers resting lightly on my skin. “Then what were you going to say?”

“I was going to say that I wasn’t thinking. That it shouldn’t have happened.”

He just shakes his head and pulls me closer.

“Do you think I don’t feel it?” he murmurs in my ear, and then his wings are wrapped around me again, trapping me in his presence. “The way you tremble when I touch you? The way your breath catches when I get too close? The way you?—”

“That’s enough,” I snap, yanking myself free.

For a moment, he just watches me, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. One that makes my lungs tighten at the reminder that this isn’t why he brought me here. A reminder that I will end up on that bed again, like I always do.

“Go,” he finally says, and his wings flare, despite his voice returning to its usual smooth, controlled tone. “Take your painting and materials with you.”

I blink, startled by the sudden shift.

“That’s it?” I ask. “You’re just letting me leave?”

Then he moves.

But not toward me.

To the table with my artwork.

“I wanted to show you the improvement I made to your painting.” He gathers the materials into a satchel, leveling his gaze with mine. “And to remind you that you belong to me. Which, as you may have noticed, I successfully did.”

My nails dig into my palms. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Yes. You do.” There’s a warning in his tone that makes my breathing slow, reminding me that no matter how much autonomy I try to have, he’s the one in control here.

As we stare each other down, memories of that kiss slam into me again.

I try to shove them away, but they linger. Taunting me. Tempting me .

“Was there something else you expected?” His voice is a dare now, edged with something darker. “Something else you wanted?”

I glance at the bed.

The moment I do, his smirk curves into something lethal.

If I give in again, there won’t be any turning back.

Which means I need to snap out of it.

Now.

“It’s dinnertime,” I remind him, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Don’t you need to feed?”

His smirk doesn’t fade. If anything, it deepens.

Whatever spell he’s weaving around me, I need him to stop, before I find myself over there with him offering far more than my blood.

But he simply places the satchel onto the table and motions to it. “Take it and leave,” he says, which is enough permission I need to hurry over to it, pick it up, and all but run to the door. Because if I don’t get out of here now, I’m definitely going to do something I’ll regret.

When the door opens, Aethelthryth is standing there, her sharp gaze flicking from me to Aerix.

“Bring Victoria,” Aerix commands her. “I still need my dinner.”

I don’t look back.

I don’t have to .

Because I can still feel his eyes following me until the moment I’m gone.