Page 17 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
CARYS
I sit cross-legged on the mossy floor, fingers brushing over the remnants of yesterday's bland mush, my stomach churning with discontent. I’ve lost count of how many meals have passed since they locked me in this room, and each one leaves me feeling emptier than the last. I glance at the door, half-expecting it to remain silent, but then it swings open.
Zevran stands there, a silhouette framed by the soft glow of bioluminescent sconces. My heart skips—a traitorous little thing—and I can’t help but wonder what he’ll bring this time. A sneer? More harsh words? Instead, he carries a tray laden with vibrant colors and enticing scents.
He sets it down carefully on the table before me. Roasted root vegetables glisten with spices, grains fluffy and warm beside them. And there’s meat—smoky and sweet—its aroma wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
I blink at the feast laid out before me. “This… looks edible,” I say cautiously, trying to mask my surprise.
Zevran leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes sharp and unyielding. He doesn’t answer at first; he simply watches as I pick up a piece of roasted vegetable.
“Go on,” he urges after a moment, a hint of something softer flickering in his gaze. “Eat.”
Tentatively, I take my first bite. The flavors explode—rich and earthy, unlike anything I've had since arriving here. I chew slowly, savoring each mouthful while trying not to let my surprise show too much.
Zevran's expression shifts subtly as he observes me; tension eases from his shoulders when I don’t spit it out or gag in horror like some human stereotype he likely expects.
“Good?” He raises an eyebrow, just a hint of satisfaction lurking behind his stoic demeanor.
“Delicious.” I swallow another bite, warmth spreading through me as hunger takes charge. “What is this?”
“A mix of roots native to Verus,” he replies quietly. “We’ve learned to use what we have.”
I meet his gaze as I chew; there's no malice in those jade depths today—only curiosity and perhaps something deeper that makes my pulse quicken again.
“What about your drone?” His voice cuts through my thoughts abruptly.
“Todd?” I can’t help but smile despite myself. “He’s probably out exploring somewhere, enjoying the freedom I'm not allowed.”
“Do you think it’s safe?” He tilts his head slightly, his expression growing more serious.
“Todd’s harmless,” I assure him, feeling an unexpected urge to defend my little companion. “He may be jittery and useless sometimes,” I add with a laugh that surprises even me, “but he's not dangerous.”
A small smile teases at Zevran's lips—just for an instant before fading back into neutrality.
“And your research?” His voice remains low and steady as if we’re discussing mundane matters rather than my potential escape plan or the fate of our worlds intertwined.
My heart picks up speed again; excitement swells within me at the chance to talk about what drives me—the very essence of who I am outside these walls.
“The fungus I found—the one that glows during storm surges? It could revolutionize how we harness energy from storms! It pulses with such life during those surges… it feels almost alive in its own way.”
His eyes narrow slightly in interest; for once, he seems genuinely engaged rather than simply humoring me.
“It sounds remarkable,” he says after a pause that stretches between us like an unspoken bond forming in the air. “What else have you discovered?”
My voice gains momentum as I speak about luminescent flora native to Verus—their adaptability under harsh conditions—and how some species communicate through color shifts depending on environmental changes.
Zevran listens intently now, nodding occasionally as if piecing together more than just information but understanding who I am beneath the layers of this bizarre predicament we find ourselves in.
The conversation flows easily between us—a dance between knowledge and curiosity that has been missing since our initial encounter filled with tension and resentment.
Days stretch into a blur of soft light filtering through the windows and the rhythmic pulse of Verus’ vibrant flora. Zevran’s visits become my anchor, threading a strange pattern into my captivity. At first, I dread his arrival, but as time passes, anticipation replaces anxiety.
He strolls in with that same steady grace, always bringing something—a soft robe woven with metallic threads that catch the light like starlight, a fruit I mentioned once, plump and sweet, bursting with flavors reminiscent of summer days back on Earth.
Today he carries a datapad filled with human archives—classics I devoured during long nights studying in cramped libraries.
“Thought you might enjoy this,” he says, his voice low as he hands it to me.
I take it hesitantly, my fingers brushing against his as I grasp the device. There’s an unspoken connection in that moment—electricity crackling between us like the energy from a storm. I force myself to look away first, heart racing. “Thanks,” I mumble, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
He settles across from me, resting his arms on his knees as if we’re simply two scholars sharing ideas rather than captor and captive. “What do you think?”
“I’ve barely skimmed through it,” I admit. “But the history of humankind is fascinating.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips—unexpected warmth igniting something deep within me.
We talk for hours about literature and culture, his questions digging deeper than anyone ever dared back home.
Each conversation peels back layers I didn’t know existed; we share laughter and debate over characters and their motives as if we were friends rather than strangers bound by fate.
With every visit, I notice how much easier it becomes to breathe around him. The weight of my resentment lessens each time he shows up unannounced—sometimes just to sit in silence, letting the tension dissolve into something softer.
“Why do you keep coming back?” I finally ask one day when we sit side by side under the soft glow of mossy sconces.
His expression hardens for just a moment before melting back into contemplation. “Perhaps it’s because you’re more than just an intruder.”
That stirs something within me—something daring and hopeful that blooms against all odds. Maybe this mate thing isn’t nonsense after all. Maybe there’s something real here beneath our conflicting worlds and stubborn beliefs. The thought unnerves me as much as it excites me.
“What are we doing here?” My voice trembles slightly—a mix of curiosity and fear at what this connection might mean.
He looks at me then—deeply—as if weighing every word before he speaks. “I don’t know yet.”
His honesty disarms me further; maybe… maybe this mate thing isn't just nonsense. Maybe there's some truth to it after all.