Page 45 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
The air between us thickens with unspoken understanding—a shared recognition of the fragile yet vibrant connection we’re forging against all odds.
CHAPTER 35
CARYS
Idress slowly, each movement a reminder of the soreness in my muscles, the weight of emotion pressing down on me like the thick air around me. The sun has barely risen, filtering through the trees, casting patterns on the swampy floor. I pull on the Kiphian clothes Zevran brought me—soft fabric that feels like a warm embrace against my skin. They fit snugly, but somehow they feel like armor too.
Relief washes over me as I glance at Zevran. His presence grounds me. Knowing how he feels, that he trusts me, makes the uncertainty swirling in my mind bearable. I catch him watching me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine—a mix of admiration and something deeper.
“Need help?” His voice rumbles low, reverberating in my chest.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He steps closer, his fingers brushing against my arm as he helps adjust the collar of my tunic. The way his touch lingers makes my heart race; warmth blooms within me where our skin meets. Each delicate adjustment turns into an unspoken conversation between us—an exchange of trust and vulnerability wrapped in gentle gestures.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving mine.
The compliment catches me off guard; it twists something inside. I crave more of him—the steady timbre of his voice wrapping around me like a soft blanket, his warmth so close it blurs all logic.
But then thoughts intrude—sharp and unwelcome—as they often do when things start to feel too perfect. The envoy… poisoned by a fungal strain I had cataloged before being dragged into this mess. A pit forms in my stomach as I remember Zevran’s urgency when he mentioned it.
“If I didn’t poison the envoy…” I say slowly, turning to face him fully, searching his gaze for answers. “Who did?”
His body goes still; every muscle tenses as realization hits him like a wave crashing against rocks.
“Shit,” he breathes out, and I see the wheels turning in his head.
We were so focused on this strange bond blossoming between us that we missed something monumental—a larger play at work while we danced around our feelings for one another.
“Carys,” he says cautiously, “we may have been played.”
Panic grips me as those words settle between us, smoke from a distant fire—thick and choking.
“Someone wants me gone.” The statement hangs heavy between us.
Zevran runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his features. “They’ve been manipulating us from the start.”
The truth stabs through my fog of emotion—sharper than any physical pain I’ve felt recently—and suddenly everything shifts into clarity: the furtive glances from nobles during council meetings, whispered conversations halting when I entered aroom—all those subtle hints that hinted at danger lurking just beneath the surface.
He steps closer again, breaking through my spiral of thoughts with fierce determination burning in his eyes. “We need to find out who’s behind this.”
“But how?” My voice trembles despite my efforts to remain calm.
“We’ll start by looking into who benefits from your disappearance.” He scans the room as if answers might be hidden within its walls.
The forest outside seems to hold its breath alongside us—anticipation crackling in the air thick with tension. But amid it all is something else too—a flicker of hope ignited by our shared resolve.
“I won’t let them take you from me,” he vows fiercely.
As if to solidify our alliance against whatever forces conspire against us, Zevran takes both my hands firmly in his—a promise woven into every touch and glance exchanged between us.
Zevran stands before me, tension radiating from his frame. The shadows cast by the trees flicker across his face, highlighting the seriousness etched into his features. “Returning to Verus will only put you back in danger,” he says, his voice low and steady.
My heart sinks. “You want to send me away.”
“No,” he replies quickly, frustration tightening his jaw. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?” My hands curl into fists at my sides. The idea of being whisked away feels like being abandoned, even if it’s meant to keep me safe.
He steps closer, closing the space between us. “I can send you somewhere safe until I figure this out.” His eyes search mine, pleading for understanding.
