Page 23 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
CARYS
I shift my attention to the delicate spores sprawled out before me, their intricate patterns swirling and intertwining like miniature galaxies dancing in the vast expanse of space.
I lean in closer, enchanted by the mesmerizing details, as my pencil glides effortlessly across the page, tracing the essence of each tiny organism with painstaking precision.
Every stroke feels like a tender caress, a way to immortalize these fragile wonders in the realm of my art.
However, this moment of serene focus, where I am completely absorbed in my craft, shatters abruptly when the door crashes open with a force that reverberates through the room.
The sudden intrusion jolts me from my creative reverie, my heart racing as I instinctively glance up, ready to confront whatever chaos has barged into my space.
Zevran stands there, his tall figure tense with an electric energy that radiates from his wild, fierce gaze. The intensity of his expression sends a shiver down my spine, igniting a whirlwind of confusion and concern within me.
“Zevran? What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly as the rapid beat of my heart thrums in my ears. The unease swirling in my mind grows heavier, filling the space between us with an almost tangible weight.
“Is it true?” he demands, his voice low and strained, each word dripping with a simmering accusation that makes the air around us feel colder, more oppressive. The intensity of his inquiry sends an icy chill coursing through me.
“What are you talking about?” I reply, my breath catching slightly in my throat.
I carefully set my notebook down, feeling the cool surface of the table beneath my fingers, and step closer to him, driven by a desperate need to understand.
I can sense the storm brewing within him, a tumultuous mix of emotions that I am determined to navigate, even if I’m unsure of the exact cause.
“Tell me it isn’t,” he spits out, his tone sharp enough to cut. But then—just like that—the anger fades from his eyes, replaced by something raw and desperate. I’ve never seen this side of him before. “Tell me it isn’t fucking true.”
My stomach knots. Does he know? The weight of silence stretches between us as I twist my fingers nervously. I can’t find my voice, dread pooling at the base of my throat.
“Did you leave this room last night?” he asks finally, each word dripping with urgency.
“Zevran—” I reach toward him instinctively. The desire to comfort him pulls me closer, but as I extend my hand, he steps back.
The movement stings more than any physical blow could. It breaks something inside me that I didn’t realize needed protection. His retreat sends shards of disappointment slicing through my chest; I’ve never felt so exposed.
“What’s going on?” I force the question out through gritted teeth, desperation clawing at me now. “You’re scaring me.”
He looks away for a moment, frustration etched into his features as he rubs a hand over his face. “Just answer,” he mutters, barely above a whisper but loud enough for me to catch the words that settle like lead in my gut. “Did you or did you not leave this room last night?”
I flinch at his words. “Yes. But?—”
“Don’t,” he snaps, venom lacing his voice. “You stupid little human. They’ll have your head for this.”
His words pierce through me, sharp and unyielding. I watch as he turns on his heel, the tension radiating off him like heat waves rising from scorched earth. He strides out, leaving the door to swing shut behind him with a finality that echoes in the silence.
I sit frozen on the bed, my heart racing in a desperate rhythm against my ribcage. The room feels too big and too small all at once, closing in around me yet suffocatingly empty. My fingers grip the fabric of my trousers, knuckles white against the dark material.
The silence roars, overwhelming in its intensity. I can almost hear my pulse pounding in my ears, a chaotic drumbeat that amplifies every pang of dread pooling in my stomach. Zevran’s accusation lingers like a ghost between us—a tainted thread woven into this bizarre bond we share.
How did everything spiral so far out of control? I replay the moments leading up to this—the warmth of his breath on my skin, the way he looked at me when we kissed as if the universe shrank down to just us two. But now? Now it feels like betrayal is stitched into our fates.
What was I thinking? Stepping out into the palace corridors without a guard or a plan? The risk weighs heavily on me now; their laws don’t bend for curiosity or bravery. They’re merciless.
My mind races through the implications—Zevran's fierce protectiveness twisted into rage and disdain for my recklessness—and every scenario leads to bloodshed and chaos. They won’t care about intent; they’ll only see a human who dared cross forbidden lines.
With trembling hands, I push myself off the bed and pace across the room. Every step is fueled by panic mixed with indignation—why should I be afraid of them? Of anyone? But deep down, a chilling fear burrows beneath my bravado: they’d see me as an intruder, an invader in their sacred space.
Suddenly, I freeze mid-step, caught between fighting for survival and wrestling with this maddening bond that ties me to Zevran.
What do I mean to him? What does he truly want from me?
A part of me yearns for clarity amidst this storm of confusion—but right now, all I can feel is the burn of uncertainty closing in around us both like a vice grip tightening around my chest.