“Did you and Cierra ever…” I drop my gaze to his still-bare chest, figuring that’s enough to get the message across.
“No.” He smirks, and the certainty in his answer sends warm satisfaction curling through my stomach. “But you, Zoey,” he continues, pausing to trace his fingers along my lips in a way that makes my heart race even faster. “You have nothing to worry about. Because yes, I was entranced by Kallista. But when it came down to it, she was weak. She let her family and friends control her. You, on the other hand, don’t let anyone control you.” He lowers his voice, almost reverent now. “Which makes you far better than she ever was.”
A prickle of satisfaction needles through me as I return his hungry stare, hanging onto his every last word.
“Does that mean I have nothing to worry about when it comes to measuring up?” I ask, although I already suspect what the answer will be.
His smirk darkens. “You threatened me with your dagger in the bunker, and you took a rake to the boy who was confessing his love for you in the garden,” he says, giving me a slow, assessing once-over that makes my skin tingle. “And that’s far more compelling to me than anything a frightened noblewoman could ever do.”
In a dark, twisted way, it might be the best compliment I’ve ever received.
“So…” I smile at him, trailing my fingers along the lines of his sculpted chest. “Are you telling me that the way to your heart is through threats and gardening tools?”
“It’s not just the weapons, Zoey,” he murmurs as he leans in, his lips brushing my ear, his voice a caress of ice and promises.“It’s that wild streak. That fire in your eyes when you argue with me—when you fight, when you create…” He pauses, then smirks. “Even when you create a painting so offensively bad that I fear for my eyesight.”
I frown, although it quickly turns into a smile.
“And yet, you were so inspired by said painting that you added your own flair to it—along with your signature,” I say, light and teasing.
“What kind of artist would I be if I didn’t leave my mark?” he says, his fingertips tracing a slow line across my cheek. “Especially on something I intend to keep.”
Then, his lips crash against mine.
There’s no hesitation this time. No restraint.
For a moment, I let myself forget the game. Forget the strategy.
But in the Night Court, there are only two choices. Dying, or thriving. And I choose the latter.
So, I pull back slowly, dragging my fingers down his chest one last time before pulling them away.
“I should go,” I say, even though the last thing I want to do right now isgo.
His midnight eyes darken. “You could stay.”
“Not tonight.” I stand, smoothing my dress, giving him a look that saysmaybe soon.“But as always—the cookies were sinfully delicious.”
A smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he stretches out on the bed, wings spreading behind him like a dark canvas.
“Playing hard to get?” he asks, and there’s something dangerous in his voice. Something that says he enjoys the chase as much as the capture.
“Not playing anything,” I reply with a coy smile, making my way across the room. “Just being... strategic.”
He laughs—a rich, dark sound that fills the space between us. “Then by all means, continue with your strategy,” he says. “I look forward to seeing how it unfolds.”
I pause at the door, turning to take in the sight of him one last time. The defined planes of his chest, the predatory grace in his posture, the way his wings cast shadows that dance in the firelight. He’s beautiful in the way that deadly things often are—captivating and lethal in equal measure.
And as the door closes behind me, I can’t help but smile at my victory.
Let Victoria worry about her position. Let Henry scheme in the shadows. Let the entire Night Court whisper about the human who’s caught their prince’s attention.
Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Prince Aerix Nightborne would burn this entire court to the ground before letting anyone harm what belongs to him.
And after getting him to confide in me about Kallista, I’m one step closer to checkmate.
