Page 6 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
"I— I was just leaving?—"
“Leaving. No. You signed your life away when you stepped foot into our sacred territory,” I growl, stepping forward to confront her directly.
"Excuse me?" Her expression morphs from surprise to defiance. “I'm just observing trees and?—”
“Just trees?” My voice echoes through the clearing, silencing her for a moment. “You stand before the vaults that hold our history—the very essence of what we are!”
She opens her mouth again but falters for a moment before managing to spit back at me: “You don’t own nature! What gives you that right?”
I’m struck by how fiery she is—how completely unyielding—and it infuriates me even more. The guards exchange glances; they can sense my rising temper.
I reach out and grab her wrist tightly, prepared to yank her to the dungeons myself.
Heat rolls down my spine like molten lava; it floods through me in waves that leave me breathless and unsteady on my feet. My markings flash violently across my skin—green geometric lines glowing like warning signals beneath bronze flesh—as if they respond to some unseen force surging between us.
She blinks up at me with wide eyes filled with confusion and something else—a flicker of understanding or recognition?
My breathing stalls as every thought scatters into oblivion, leaving only an electric connection thrumming between us where our skin meets.
“Take her,” I say at last, voice uneven yet resolute. “Alive.”
CHAPTER 5
CARYS
Isway helplessly, the coarse ropes biting into my wrists as the six-legged beast lumbers forward. Around me, Kiphian guards jeer and exchange glances, their pointed spines glinting like knives under the vibrant canopy. Each step sends jolts of discomfort shooting through my body, yet I keep my chin high, refusing to let them see how rattled I am.
The trees loom larger as we approach a massive palace woven seamlessly into the branches above. It feels alive, as if it grew from the earth itself rather than being constructed by hands. Sunlight filters through leaves that shimmer in shades of emerald and jade, casting dancing patterns on the intricate woodwork and bio-glass windows that form the palace’s façade. The scent of sweet sap and blooming flowers fills the air—a sharp contrast to my fear.
“Watch your step,” one of the guards snarls as we ascend a winding path made of smooth bark and vines.
I catch glimpses of other Kiphians—some adorned in brilliant colours that reflect their status, others dressed in simple tunics, all staring at me with varying degrees of disdain and curiosity. A flicker of panic ignites within me; I’m not just a trespasser here—I’m an intruder in their world.
We reach an enormous archway that opens up into a grand atrium. Vines drape down like curtains from the ceiling’s towering height, thick with blossoms glowing faintly. My breath catches at the beauty around me, but it quickly fades when I realize I’m still tied up like some trophy they plan to flaunt.
“Get her on the platform,” an authoritative voice booms.
I spot him—the bastard who dragged me here—standing among his soldiers. He looms tall and commanding, his spine running straight down his back like a banner unfurled in defiance. His markings pulse rhythmically against his skin, glowing bright against his bronze complexion. A crown sits perfectly atop his head.
As I’m shoved onto a floating platform hovering several feet above the ground, I glance back at him, trying to gauge his intentions through those piercing eyes. They hold something inscrutable—power? Contempt? Either way, I’m caught between dread and awe.
Three Kiphian soldiers surround me as we glide through hallways lined with luminescent stones humming softly against the silence. My heart races; each sound feels magnified in this alien place. I brace myself for confinement or interrogation as they lead me toward a darkened hall.
“Stop,” he orders suddenly.
The soldiers pause and look at him.
“She'll be staying in the eastern guest quarters, next to my own.” His voice resonates with authority, slicing through the tension hanging in the air.
Confusion ripples through the soldiers’ ranks. They exchange glances, clearly questioning his command. I feel it too. Guest quarters? I scan my surroundings, half-expecting someone to step forward and explain this absurd twist. Am I a prisoner or a guest?
The guards shake off their uncertainty, their expressions hardening into masks of obedience. They grip my arms tighter, steering me away from the grand atrium and down a narrow corridor lined with ornate carvings that shimmer in the low light.
“Hey! Wait—” I try to protest, but they ignore me, their silent focus unwavering.
Todd buzzes nervously behind me, darting around as if sensing my growing panic.
“Just stick close, buddy,” I murmur under my breath, hoping he can sense my unease.
