Page 93 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

The male Caix, whose whole face has morphed into the head of a snake, tries to grab it out of the air, but he misses—probably because his fingers are turning serpentine, too. He still manages to grab me, though, and when he tugs at my upper arm to pull me out of the corner, I stumble behind him. “We’ll find a better place to play with the human toy.”

But then the green glitter buzz resolves into Kila, and she glares at the Icecaix couple. In a moment of clarity, I realize how dangerous it is for her here—not only is it far too cold in this room for the Starcaix raya to survive long, it’s full of Icecaix who would happily rip off her wings and eat her as a snack, if Ramira’s threats are any indication.

“Wait. No,” I say, and pull away from the male.

The room spins faster as Kila hovers before me, her wings a desperate blur.

My tiny friend glows like starlight against the darkness gathering in my mind. I try to focus on her tiny form, but the room keeps dissolving into prisms and shadows. I reach for her, my hands passing through rainbows instead.

The room smears and shifts, my thoughts scattering. Reality fractures around me as I struggle to focus. I’ve never seen Kila look so fierce or so fragile.

“Wait,” I try to say again, but the word dissolves on my tongue like snowflakes.

Kila is so small against their hunger. The Icecaix’s serpentine features morph, but the raya remains clear as crystal. Too clear. Too bright. Too vulnerable.

God. Kila is in danger, and I’m too drugged to save her. If she dies trying to save me, I’ll never forgive myself—assuming I remember any of this tomorrow.

CHAPTER 27

LARA

His partner tries to grab me, but with a loud buzz, Kila flits over her and dust floats down onto the woman’s hand. Almost immediately, angry red welts rise on the pure white skin.

“Touch her again and I will go get the duke,” Kila threatens. “I’m sure you didn’t ask his permission, did you?”

Part of me doesn't like the way that sounds—as if I belong to Ivrael. But right now, another part of me does like it. A lot.

I try to tell myself that second bit is just because of the wine. But I know better.

The two Icecaix snarl at Kila, but then they glance at each other nervously, as if the thought of Ivrael showing up makes them anxious. Just like it does me. And yet as they turn and walk away, I find myself longing for Ivrael.

I bite down on the thought, banishing it back to its dark corner of my mind and refusing to look at it too closely.

“Come on,” Kila hisses into my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

I stagger after her, moving through the dining hall and toward the short corridor that leads to the swinging door into the kitchen.

Kila glances back over her shoulder. “Feeling any better yet?”

“Much.” I nod, though the motion makes me a little dizzy. It’s not entirely a lie. I do feel better. Better enough to follow through on my original plan for tonight, at least. But first I have to convince Kila I’ll be okay.

“I’m going to go outside, get some fresh air,” I say when we’re almost to the kitchen.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kila’s wings whir anxiously.

“Yeah. It’ll help clear my head.”

Her forehead creases as she gives me a suspicious look, but she finally nods. “Fine.”

“We’ll go watch the dancing when I get back, if you want,” I offer.

This time, her nod is more enthusiastic. “I’d love to see a court dance—even if it is the Ice Court,” she adds with a shiver.

“Be back in a few.” I open the swinging door and wave her through, glad to see the raya headed back to the warmest part of the house. Then I wait, giving it a few seconds to be sure no one comes out of the kitchen searching for me.

Instead of heading toward an exit, though, I slip back through to the dining room, sliding into the room quietly and standing against the wall just inside the servants’ entrance.

Glancing around, I realize no one is watching me. The Ice Court Caix are gorging themselves on raw meat and alcohol—I can’t tell if the red running down from the corners of their mouths is blood or wine or both, but the Icecaix don’t seem to care. In fact, many of them are beginning to lick the concoction from each other’s faces.

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