Page 72 of Alien Prince

I shake the thought away, steeling myself. It doesn’t matter. If she’s unworthy, I will send her back, just as I have dismissedevery other meaningless tradition that stands in my way. My father may be fading, but I am not him.

And I will not let a vessel, or anyone else, decide my future.

Chapter Three

Emily

My legs are trembling so hard I’m not sure how I’m still standing. Standing in the doorway is a figure so tall and imposing it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. He steps forward, his movements smooth and deliberate, like a predator sizing up his prey.

He’s… not human. That much is painfully clear.

His skin is a metallic silver, shimmering faintly under the bright lights of the room. His face is sharp and angular, almost too perfect to be real, but it’s his eyes that catch me, pinning me in place like a butterfly under glass—piercing violet, glowing faintly, as if they hold secrets I’ll never understand.

This must be him. The so-called prince.

My throat tightens, and I take a small step back, my bare feet scuffing against the cold, smooth floor. His presence fills the room, heavy and suffocating, and I can’t shake the overwhelming sensation that I am very, very small compared to him.

“Is this… a dream?” I whisper, my voice shaky and thin. I clutch at the slippery fabric of the strange dress they’ve put me in, desperate for something—anything—to ground me.

He doesn’t answer, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that makes my stomach churn. I don’t know if it’s fear or something else, something I don’t want to name.

I shake my head, trying to force myself to wake up. Any second now, I’ll open my eyes and find myself back in my tiny apartment, the smell of old books and vanilla candles filling theair. Any second now, this towering, impossible alien prince will disappear, and I’ll laugh about how ridiculous this dream was.

But nothing changes. The gilded room is still here. The alien is still here, his sharp features unreadable as he stares at me.

And I don’t think I’m waking up anytime soon.

He steps closer, and I instinctively take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. He’s massive—easily a foot and a half taller than I am, and I’m five foot five—and every inch of him exudes power and authority. His violet eyes narrow slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s irritated, curious, or both.

“You are the one the vessel chose?” His voice is deep and smooth, but there’s a sharp edge to it, like he’s questioning the very idea.

I bristle, my fingers tightening around the slippery fabric of this ridiculous dress. “Excuse me?” I snap, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because if it is, you’re terrible at it.”

His silver brows draw together, and I swear I see the corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s fighting back a smirk, but it’s gone so fast I might have imagined it.

“It is not a compliment,” he says flatly, folding his arms across his broad chest. “It is an observation, one I am still processing.”

Processing? Like I’m some kind of equation he needs to solve? My fear is still there, lurking in the background, but his arrogance is grating enough to push it aside. And maybe… maybe that’s why my usual painful shyness hasn’t reared its head yet. I should be shrinking into myself right now, tongue-tied and stammering, but instead, the words keep tumbling out of me, sharp and biting.

And really, what else am I supposed to do? I can’t believe I’m eventalkingto an alien. Sure, he’s handsome—in a strange, exotic kind of way—but that only makes this more surreal. Hisskin gleams like molten silver, and his violet eyes seem to glow with an intensity that’s both mesmerizing and unnerving. If I weren’t standing here barefoot in a palace straight out of a sci-fi movie, I might think I’d stumbled into some eccentric billionaire’s mansion.

But this… this has to be a dream, right? A weird, vivid dream brought on by too much late-night reading. Any second now, I’ll wake up in my bed, surrounded by my mismatched furniture and the smell of old books. Any second.

“Well, while you’reprocessing, maybe you can start by telling me why I’m here and how to get back home,” I say, crossing my arms to mimic his stance.

His eyes flash, the faint glow in them intensifying. “You are here because the vessel deemed you a match,” he says, his tone clipped, “and as for returning home… that is not an option.”

Not an option? My stomach flips, but I refuse to let him see how much his words terrify me. I square my shoulders, trying to channel every ounce of defiance I can muster. “So, what? I’m just supposed to accept that some ancient alien spaceship kidnapped me, plopped me on a shiny planet, and decided I’m supposed to marry you?”

His jaw tightens. “You are tolearnour ways, fulfill your role, and—”

“Yeah, no,” I cut him off, crossing my arms over my chest. “If this is some weird intergalactic dating app, I didn’t swipe right.”

He stares at me, and the tension is so thick I can hardly breathe. Then, unexpectedly, his lips curve into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “You are… different,” he says, his voice quieter now.

“Thanks,” I deadpan. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He doesn’t respond, just watches me with those unnervingly bright eyes. The silence stretches, heavy with something I can’tquite name. I don’t know if it’s anger, intrigue, or something else entirely, but whatever it is, it’s electric.

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