Page 17 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
Not at all suited for exploring and collecting samples—but I'm not going to be doing anything like that anymore.
With each piece I don, I gain confidence back—a reminder that no matter how dire this situation feels, I’m still Carys Quinn: botanist, researcher, and fighter. They can dress me in their fabric but they can't define me.
I take one last look in the mirror at this strange reflection staring back—a blend of human tenacity draped in Kiphian elegance—and for a fleeting moment, the heat in my belly flares again—not just from desire but from determination.
I step back into my room, the faint scent of soap lingering in the air. My heart quickens as I scan for any sign of Oswin. The note-passer hasn’t returned, and each passing moment feels like an eternity. I wanted to ask him more about this supposed escape—find out if there’s a way out of this gilded cage. But after his first cryptic message, he vanished.
Frustration bubbles in my chest as I sink into the chair at the research table.
Then, a sharp knock jolts me from my thoughts. My pulse spikes. Could it be Oswin? I turn to the door, anticipation thrumming in my veins.
But when it swings open, disappointment crashes over me like a wave. Zevran stands there, framed by the light filteringthrough the hall behind him. That chiseled jaw, those intense jade eyes—they're just as infuriatingly captivating as before.
His gaze flickers over my shoulder, and I catch a glimpse of surprise mingling with something deeper—frustration? Interest? Hard to tell when he's always so composed.
Well… Maybe not always.
“Carys,” he starts, but I cut him off with a huff and turn back to my research table.
Ignoring him feels like the only option right now. Because if I'm not ignoring him, I'm thinking about his eyes on my bare skin, covered in droplets of water.
I plop down at the research table, trying to focus on the glowing data pads. Each drop of water clinging to my skin reminds me of Zevran's gaze, that sharp intensity roving over me like he’s cataloguing every inch. My thighs clench together in frustration. Why can’t I shake this reaction? He’s just an alien bastard who kidnapped me.
I glance up, and there he is, stepping closer. The air thickens with tension as he leans over my shoulder, peering at the sample I’ve been documenting.
“This flower,” he says, voice low and measured, “can be quite deadly if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
I barely stifle a scoff.
“Iknowwhat I’m doing,” I snap back, though truthfully, I wouldn’t have known that until I could actually test it. But stubbornness propels me forward. I’m not about to let him think he can intimidate me into submission.
Zevran straightens, crossing his arms over that broad chest adorned with his geometric markings—those deep green patterns pulse subtly as he moves. The markings tell a story I can't decipher yet; they hint at experiences far removed from my own.
“Are you certain?” His brow arches in that infuriating way that makes it seem like he finds amusement in my irritation.
“Yeah, pretty sure,” I reply sharply while flipping through the notes on the tablet. Each swipe brings up images of plants—some benign, others lethal—but they all pale against the reality of being trapped here with him.
He watches as I tap through my data, tension rolling off him like heat waves. A silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words and hidden frustrations. Part of me wants to shout at him for being so condescending while another part wrestles with how undeniably captivating he is—even when he’s pissing me off.
“You’re very dedicated to your work,” he remarks after a beat.
“Better than staring at palace walls,” I retort, eyes narrowing as my focus shifts back to the screen.
His lips curve into a hint of a smirk—a dangerous one that sets my heart racing again despite my irritation.
“Indeed.” He leans even closer. I can smell him. I can feel his breath on my cheek, his warmth seeping into my skin. "Why do you study plants such as these ones?"
I push away from the table, frustration boiling over. My heart races as I look up at him, defiance bubbling. “Why do you care?”
Zevran blinks, his expression shifting to something unreadable. The air crackles between us.
“Because you’re my Jalshagar.”
CHAPTER 14
ZEVRAN
Iwatch her laugh, a sound that’s both light and sharp. It pierces through the tension, yet it grates on my nerves.
