The Alien’s Vicious Starflash Manor (Empire of Frost and Flame #2)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

IVRAEL

A s I step out of my study, movement catches my eye—a flash of copper-gold hair disappearing down the servants’ staircase.

Lara, slipping away like a ghost in the shadows.

My fingers tighten on the railing of the main staircase as I debate following her. She’s been different since our encounter in the gallery, alternating between fierce defiance and something softer that makes my chest ache.

I shouldn’t care where she goes.

But my feet are already moving, taking the front stairs two at a time, frost trailing in my wake. By the time I reach the bottom and move to the servants’ stairs, the door outside is swinging shut.

Through the windows, I catch another glimpse of her—running now, her hair a banner of fire against the snow. Not the careful, measured pace of someone sneaking away, but the desperate flight of prey from predator.

Something is wrong.

The realization is accompanied by a wave of foreign emotion—fear—flooding through me with such intensity it nearly brings me to my knees.

Not my own, I realize, but Lara’s,

I burst through the doors into the biting cold, my breath crystallizing in the air as I make my way out to maze.

All the way there, I feel her terror coursing through my veins as if it were my own.

When did this connection form? How deep does it go?

The maze looms before me and I slip inside. Lara disappears around a corner, and I follow, drawn by the pull of her terror like a compass needle seeking north.

The maze has changed since Syella built it—the walls higher now, more treacherous. Ice formations sprout like deadly flowers, their edges sharp enough to draw blood.

Was it like this when Lara entered moments ago? Or is this my own magic responding to my agitation, reshaping the ice to match my turmoil?

Another wave of Lara’s fear crashes over me, and frost explodes across the ground in jagged patterns.

I round another corner, tracking her by the echo of her footsteps and the phantom sensation of her heart racing in my chest. The temperature drops further as my magic leaks out unchecked, responding to my growing desperation. What is she running from?

Who dares threaten what’s mine?

The thought brings me up short. When did I start thinking of her as mine to protect rather than mine to destroy?

You know exactly when , a voice that sounds suspiciously like Cyan whispers in my mind. The moment she yielded to you. The moment you let yourself care.

I curse under my icy breath.

This was never part of the plan. I was supposed to remain distant, detached. I wasn’t supposed to feel the phantom warmth of her skin against mine, wasn’t supposed to crave her fire like a moth drawn to flame.

Wasn’t supposed to want to burn my whole world down to keep her safe.

Another turn brings me to a dead end, but I can feel her nearby—her fear a living thing pulsing through our connection. The wall before me is seamless, perfect ice, but I know with bone-deep certainty that she’s on the other side.

My powers surge, responding to my need to reach her. Ice groans and shifts, creating an archway where moments ago there was only a solid wall. I step through to find myself in one of the maze’s deadly puzzle chambers, where the floor itself is a trap waiting to be sprung.

Lara stands at the center, her chest heaving as she searches frantically for an exit. She spins at my approach, and the terror in her eyes cuts deeper than any blade.

I want to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and shield her from whatever horror pursues her.

The urge is foreign, unsettling. I am the Duke of Starfrost. I do not protect. I do not nurture. I take what I need and discard what I don’t, as cold and implacable as the ice in my veins.

But watching her tremble, feeling her fear echo through me, all I want is to keep her safe. To destroy whatever threatens her. To forget my duty to my world and choose her instead.

The realization settles like poison iron in my chest—I cannot protect her. Not truly. Not when I am the greatest threat to her survival.

My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat. The temperature plummets as my control fractures further. Ice spreads across the walls in corrupted patterns, broken fractals as beautiful and terrible as my own twisted heart.

“Lara.” Her name falls from my lips like a prayer, like a curse. She takes a step back, and the movement sends fresh pain lancing through my chest.

I have spent centuries crafting the perfect mask of aristocratic ice, but it shatters now. Because I cannot be what she needs. Cannot protect her from the fate I’ve written for her in blood and sacrifice.

Cannot save her without damning my entire world.

The ice walls around us begin to crack, spiderweb patterns spreading outward from where I stand. My magic responds to my inner turmoil, threatening to bring the entire maze down around us. I force myself to breathe, to cage the maelstrom of foreign emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

I can feel her confusion now, layered beneath the fear—confusion at my presence, at the intensity of my reaction. She doesn’t understand why I followed her, why I care.

I don’t understand it myself.

All I know is that watching her run, feeling her terror, awakened something primal in me—something that demands I protect what’s mine, consequences be damned.

But I cannot afford such weakness. My world teeters on the edge of destruction, and only her sacrifice can save it.

So I lock away the part of me that wants to shelter her, that yearns to earn her trust rather than break it. I force ice back into my veins, my voice, my heart.

Then, as if she didn’t even recognize me, she turns and runs.

“Lara!” My voice echoes through the maze, but there’s no response

The fear flooding through our connection spikes higher, sharp enough to taste like metal on my tongue. My magic surges in response, frost crackling along my skin, but for once I welcome it. I need every advantage I can get to reach her.

I close my eyes, focusing on that foreign thread of emotion pulsing through me. She’s moving—no, running again—deeper into the maze. Away from whatever terrified her enough to unleash that burst of power.

Away from me.

The thought sends an unwelcome pang through my chest.

I round the final corner and there she is—running directly toward me.

The sight of her sends something molten and possessive burning through my veins.

I cross the space between us in three long strides and she slams into my chest. She fights for half a heartbeat before recognizing my voice as I murmur against her hair.

“I have you. You’re safe.”

She collapses against my chest, her whole body shaking with broken sobs. She burrows closer, seeking comfort from the very one who will eventually destroy her.

I should push her away. Should maintain the distance necessary to carry out my plans.

Instead, I find myself gathering her closer, one hand spanning her back while the other cradles her head.

“What happened?” I manage to ask, though my voice emerges rougher than intended. “What were you running from?”

She shakes her head against my chest, fingers curling into my coat. I can feel her tears soaking through the fabric, scalding hot against my cool skin.

“Tell me who frightened you,” I demand, that possessive thing in my chest roaring for blood. “Tell me who to destroy.”

She makes a sound that might be a laugh or another sob. “You can’t protect me.”

No, I think with bitter clarity. I can’t protect you at all. Not even from myself.

But with her trembling in my arms, her heart thundering against mine, I want to try. Want to burn my carefully laid plans to ash and find another way.

Want to be worthy of the trust she’s showing by seeking comfort in my embrace.

When Lara tilts her face up to mine, tears still glittering on her lashes like diamonds, all my careful logic dissipates.

I kiss her.

The first brush of my lips against hers is gentle, tentative—so different from our other heated encounters.

This feels more dangerous somehow. More real.

She makes a soft sound and melts against me, her mouth opening under mine. The kiss deepens, and suddenly I’m drowning in her warmth, her taste, the way she fits against me like she was made for my arms.

My magic rises, responding to my need.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be holding her like something precious, kissing her like I have any right to gentleness. Not when I know how this ends.

But I can’t stop.

Can’t pull away from the heat of her mouth, the silk of her hair between my fingers, the way she trembles against me. My whole world has narrowed to this moment, this kiss, this woman who makes me want impossible things.

For one glorious moment, Lara melts against me, her lips soft and yielding under mine. Her hands slide up my chest to tangle in my hair. I want to devour her, to lose myself in her warmth, to forget everything but the way she feels in my arms.

Then she tears her mouth away from mine with a broken gasp. The words tumble out in a panicked rush as she tries to pull back. “No—I can’t—they were following me?—”

I tighten my hold, unwilling to let her run again. “Who? Who was following you?”

“I don’t know. I heard footsteps—voices—” She’s trembling so hard I can feel it in my own bones, her terror still pulsing through our connection. “They were getting closer?—”

“I saw you leave the house. I followed you the entire way.” Ice crystals form in the air around us as my magic responds to her distress. “There was no one else.”

She shakes her head frantically. “No, I heard them. They were right behind me?—”

“That was me.” I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze, and brush my thumbs across her cheekbones, catching the tears that still fall. Her skin burns against my palms like a living flame. “Only me.”

“But—” Her gaze darts past me, searching the ruins of the maze. “I swear I heard?—”

“Look at me.” When she doesn’t immediately comply, I gentle my tone. “Please.”

Her gaze finally locks onto mine. I let her see the truth in my eyes, let her feel the steady certainty in my touch.

“I watched you slip down the servants’ stairs,” I tell her, each word precise and measured. “I took the main staircase. By the time I reached the bottom, you were already outside. I followed you into the maze. No one else.”

She draws in a shaky breath. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely certain.” I press my forehead to hers. My fingers slide into her hair, cradling her head. “I would never let anyone hurt you.”

The irony of that statement should destroy me. But in this moment, I mean it with every frozen shard of my soul.

Long moments pass as I hold her, letting her process my words. Gradually, her trembling subsides. Her breathing steadies. The terror flooding our connection ebbs, replaced by exhaustion and something softer I refuse to name.

When she finally speaks again, her voice is barely a whisper. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t.” My hands slide to her shoulders, kneading the tension there. “I would never fault you for being cautious.”

A bitter laugh escapes her. “Is that what I was? Cautious?” She shakes her head. “I was terrified. Panicked. I didn’t even think—I just ran.”

“And I followed.” The words emerge rougher than intended. “I will always follow.”

Her eyes meet mine again, and the vulnerability there steals my breath. Snowflakes dance in the air between us, caught in the gravity of this moment.

I brush her wild hair back from her face, tucking the copper-gold strands behind her ears. My fingers linger there, tracing the delicate shell. She shivers, but not from the cold.

Then she surges up and kisses me.

I groan into her mouth as her fingers fist in my coat, pulling me closer. The taste of her—sweet and hot and addictive—makes my head spin. My magic responds to my desire, frost spreading across every surface, but she doesn’t seem to notice the dropping temperature.

If anything, she burns hotter against me. Her tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for her, letting her take control of the kiss. The novelty of yielding sends electricity down my spine.

My hands span her waist, lifting her until she’s pressed between my body and the ice wall behind us. She makes a desperate sound and wraps her legs around my hips, and suddenly I’m drowning in sensation.

The heat of her core against me, even through layers of clothing.

The silk of her hair sliding between my fingers.

The way she gasps my name when I trail kisses down her throat.

I want to map her body with my hands and mouth until I know every sensitive spot, every sound she makes when pleasure overwhelms her.

Want to mark her as mine in ways that can never be undone.

Want her , with an intensity that terrifies me.

And I know, with the kind of certainty that reshapes worlds, that I am lost. That I will tear apart heaven and earth, rewrite destiny itself, to find a way to save both her and my world.

Because I cannot lose her.

Not now.

Not ever.

The knowledge settles into my bones like a prophecy, like a curse, like salvation.

Like love.

I cannot go through with my original plan. Cannot sacrifice her, no matter what it costs my world. The realization should send panic coursing through me, should make me push her away and rebuild my walls of ice.

Instead, I pull her closer and capture her mouth again, pouring everything I cannot say into the kiss.

She responds with equal fervor, and for a moment I let myself believe that this—her warmth, her trust, her fire melting my frozen heart—could be enough.

Could be everything.

Her hands slip inside my coat, and even through my shirt, her touch burns like brands against my skin. I growl into her mouth, pressing her harder against the wall. Ice crackles around us, responding to my rising desire, but she doesn’t flinch from the cold.

If anything, she seems to welcome it. One hand slides up to tangle in my hair, and she uses the grip to angle my head, deepening the kiss until I’m lost in her heat.

“Please,” she whispers against my lips.

The word sends another surge of possessive need through me, and I drag my mouth from hers to press open-mouthed kisses down her throat. She arches into the touch, and the sound she makes nearly shatters what little remains of my control.

“Mine,” I growl against her pulse point, no longer caring how much of my desperate want bleeds into my voice. “Say you’re mine.”

“Yours,” she gasps, and the word sends molten heat flooding through my veins. “Only yours.”

I reclaim her mouth, and this kiss holds nothing back. All my need, my hunger, my impossible longing—I pour it all into the press of my lips against hers. She meets me with equal passion, and for endless moments there is only this.

Only us.

Only the heat of her mouth and the silk of her skin and the way she trembles in my arms.

I am lost.

I am found.

I am hers, as surely as she is mine.

And I will find another way. Will move heaven and earth, will rewrite destiny itself, if that’s what it takes to keep her safe.

To keep her.