Page 66 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

I reach out without thinking, brushing my fingers against her cheek. Her skin is warm, so warm, and she gasps, flinching away at the contact.

“Don’t.” She steps back, bumping into the door. “You don’t get to touch me like that. Not when you’re the reason I’m here in the first place.”

The rejection stings more than it should. I drop my hand. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“No, you’re trying to protect yourself.” Her voice cracks. “If you wanted to protect me, you would have left me on Earth.”

The truth of her words slams against me. But I can’t tell her why I need her. Not without risking destroying everything.

Instead, I focus on the immediate problem. Because Uanna was right about one thing—I’ve been neglecting my duties as Lara’s owner, too focused on keeping my plots hidden to tend to all my duties.

“You need proper clothing. Something that marks you as part of my household.”

“Why? So everyone will know who owns me?”

“Yes.” I move closer again, crowding her against the door. “Because right now, you look like any human slave. Which means anyone could decide to... borrow you.”

Her eyes widen as she finally understands. “They wouldn’t.”

“They would. They have.” The memory of other humans I’ve seen destroyed by court politics makes my voice rough. “The right clothing will mark you as mine. Protected.”

She swallows hard. “Like a brand.”

“Like armor.”

For a long moment, we stare at each other. She’s close enough thatI can see the amber flecks in her light brown eyes, count the freckles scattered across her nose. If I leaned down just slightly...

She turns her head away. “Fine. Whatever you think is best, Your Lordship.”

The formal title feels like a slap. I step back, creating space between us. “Return to your duties. And Lara?” I wait until she looks at me again. “Stay away from Uanna.”

She gives a jerky nod and slips out the door. I wait several minutes before following, giving us both time to compose ourselves.

Then I head for the kitchen. Adefina will know where to find suitable clothing, and she’s discreet enough not to ask questions. More importantly, she’s one of the few people in the manor I trust to actually help protect Lara rather than simply spy on her.

“The Evans girl needs a dress,” I say as I swing through the door into the kitchen long enough to talk to Adefina about our clothing oversight.

“A dress?” Adefina asks.

“Yes. I cannot have her skulking around the main house looking like a refugee from Earth.”

“And yet, she is a refugee from Earth, is she not?”

I tilt my head back and stare down my nose at the cook. “She is a servant of Starfrost Manor and she should look the part.”

Adefina doesn’t snicker outright but she might as well have. “I’ll order the proper clothing. I assume you want the village seamstress to use the standard household patterns? She should have a few of our standard house uniform dresses on hand—they could be altered for the girl to wear in the meantime.”

For a moment, I imagine Lara dressed in her true proper clothing, the clothing her bloodline demands. Clothed in dresses made of the finest silken fabric produced by the Starcaix—in an ice-blue ball gown highlighting the golden red of her hair, setting off the pallor of her skin. I imagine tracing the veins showing blue against the creamy, rich softness of her chest…

I clamp down on my response to the thoughts, my nostrils flaring. Goddess, I can stillsmellher in this kitchen,even though she’s gone.

Everywhere I go, she’s there.

Her scent. That's the problem—or so I tell myself. And yet I inhale deeply, and then I swallow convulsively.

The corners of Adefina’s eyes crinkle as if she’s trying to repress a laugh at my expense. “Is there anything else, Your Lordship?”

I nod brusquely, though the thought of Lara in one of the shapeless blue-and-white maids’ dresses barely assuages my irritation.

---