Page 67 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

“Have the seamstress alter two dresses for her.” I don’t bother to tell Adefina there won’t be time for custom-made dresses. Lara won’t be here that long. “And have the girl change more often,” I add. Perhaps that will stop her from leaving her scent behind everywhere she goes.

“I see…” Adefina says—and I fear perhaps she really does.

The next time I see Lara, a few quintclicks later, she’s wearing one of the maids’ dresses. I am glad to note that she looks the part of a household servant, at least. But the new clothing does nothing to minimize my response to her scent or to tamp down my desire for her, much to my dismay.

I still am able to track her movements through the house by her scent, her sound, even the barest glimpse of her. Anytime I catch sight of her, my attention snaps to her, as if drawn by the kind of magical magnetics I’m trying to ensure remain active in my world.

When I exit my chambers the next morning, I find Uanna leaning against the wall across from my doorway, slowly fanning herself with a lace fan. She falls into step next to me as I move down the hallway.

“I see you took my advice about the human,” she says, snapping the fan shut and gesturing with it toward where Lara disappears around a corner, the blue-and-white uniform still failing to make her blend in with the other housemaids as far as I’m concerned—though she fits in visually, at least.

“I wasn’t aware I needed your advice about my household staff.” I keep walking, hoping she’ll take the hint.

She doesn’t. Instead, she reaches out and places one pale hand on my arm, her fingers like ice even through my coat sleeve. “Come now, darling. You know I only want what’s best for you.”

I stop and turn to face her. “Do you?”

“Of course.” Her smile is crystalline and sharp. “We’ve known each other most of our lives. Surely that counts for something?”

“It counted for exactly what it was worth.” I remove her hand from my arm. “A convenient arrangement between two people who understood the rules.”

Her nostrils flare. “And now? What are the rules now, Ivrael?”

“Now there are no rules between us at all.”

“Because of her?” Uanna’s laugh is brittle. “She’s a human. A toy. She’ll be dead the instant you tire of her.”

Much sooner than that, but I can’t tell Uanna that. Instead, I say, “My relationship with Lara is not your concern.”

“Relationship?” She steps closer, lowering her voice. “Is that what we’re calling it? Tell me, does she warm your bed as well as she warms your kitchen?”

Ice crackles along my fingertips. “Choose your next words carefully.”

“Or what? You’ll freeze me?” She spreads her arms wide. “Go ahead. The great Duke of Starfrost, defending a human servant’s honor.”

“I’m defending my own honor.” I lean in close, dropping my voice. “And my patience with your games grows thin.”

“I told you this is no game. You’re destroying everything we worked for.” Uanna’s voice goes soft, almost gentle—the same tone she’d used when whispering against my mouth in the dining room. “What happened to you? You used to understand your duty.”

Duty. As if she hasn’t spent years twisting duty into a weapon, using it to justify every betrayal. As if she has any idea what the word truly means.

“My duty is to my lands and my people.” I step back, creating distance between us just as I had before. “Not to whatever schemes you’ve concocted.”

She moves forward again, pressing her advantage with the same calculated grace she’d shown when settling onto my lapin the dining room.

I refuse to back away again.

“Think about it. With my connections at court, your position here... we could be unstoppable.” Her voice carries echoes of old promises, of nights spent planning our future together.

“I’m not interested in court politics.”

Her laugh is genuine this time—a flash of the woman she used to be, before ambition froze her heart. “Liar. You’re planning something. Something big.” She taps her closed fan against my chest, right where my heart pounds beneath my ribs. “I just can’t figure out what it is yet.”

“Stop.” The word emerges rougher than intended. I catch her wrist, feeling her pulse jump beneath my fingers.

“Make me.” She presses closer, tilting her face up toward mine. The bruise on her lip has faded, but I can still see where my teeth marked her. “Remember how good we were together? We could have that again. Better, even.”

“No.” I release her wrist and step away, refusing to be drawn back into that dangerous dance. “We couldn’t.”

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