Page 78 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

Slowly, I make my way toward the stairwell, then down the main stairs. Nothing in the house moves.

At the foot of the stairs, I make a circuit through the first floor, checking all the public rooms.

Then I shake my head, annoyed at myself. I know where the trouble is. Trying to convince myself otherwise is simply going to lead to more problems.

Rather than checking any other spaces, I move toward the kitchen. Outside the main door, I press my ear against the wood.

The baron’s voice is the first thing I hear. “You are a sweet little rabbit, aren’t you?” he croons. “I can see why the duke wants to keep you to himself.”

Rage bubbles up inside me, acidic and strong, burning through my veins like molten iron, poisonous and deadly.

Every instinct screams at me to tear the baron’s hands from her body, to freeze him solid where he stands. But I force myself to remain still, to maintain the control that has kept my plans intact for so long. If I lose that control now, I risk everything—my people, my kingdom, my chance to save my world.

Even if that means allowing the baron to damage Lara? a tiny voice inside me mutters. The voice sounds like my father’s—the same tone he used when asking if I truly understood the cost of power.

A violet haze washes across my vision, and my stomach twists violently. Ice spreads through my veins, crystallizing my blood even as that same voice hisses,No.

Never that. I might be willing to sacrifice her life when the time comes, but I will not allow anyone else to harm her.

The possessive fury of that thought should frighten me, but I’m beyond caring.

Still, I need to hear what the baron wants. Need to know if he suspects anything. So I force myself to stay hidden, to listen as he interrogates her, though every word from his mouth makes the ice in my blood crack and splinter with barelycontained violence.

“Tell me,” Svalkat continues, his tone sliding into something darkly intimate that makes my hands ache with the need to rip him into a thousand bloody pieces, “why did Ivrael come after you? What was it that you offered him?” His tone turns musing, as if he’s savoring the moment.

“I don’t know what he wants.” Lara’s voice emerges breathy and low, trembling in a way that makes my hands curl into fists. “I didn’t offer him anything.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he says sarcastically, and I hear the rustle of fabric as he moves closer to her.

“Let go of me,” she says, her voice so hoarse I can barely hear her. The fear in those words sends cracks spreading through my careful control.

Violence swims through my bloodstream, a tide of killing frost that first makes my limbs go weak with its intensity, then hardens them to steel. I imagine all the ways I could end him—slowly, painfully, until he begs for the mercy of true death.

“Please don’t do that,” she begs. And then she whimpers.

The sound shatters something vital inside me. I don’t know exactly what he’s done—but that broken noise tears through every barrier I’ve built, every justification I’ve made for keeping my distance. In that moment, I don’t care what information I might gain by listening longer. Don’t care about my plans or schemes or the greater good.

All I care about is getting his hands off her. All I can think about is how many pieces I can shred him into before someone stops me. How much pain I can inflict before his screams match that helpless sound she just made.

My careful control splinters, and the predator I keep caged inside rises to the surface, hungry for blood.

I swing the door open on its well-oiled hinges, slipping into the room behind the Baron.

Lara’s gaze flickers toward me, but she makes no other sign that she’s seen me.

Good. She may not trust me—but even she seems to realize that I’m a better option than Baron Mib Svalkat.

The baron has her pinned against the corridor wall, his knee pressed between her legs, one hand around her throat.

Ice sweeps through me, my frost magic rising. My veins grow cold, hardening my heart against pity. And then I hold the point of my dagger up to Svalkat’s neck.

“Touch her again,” I say, my voice snapping and popping with the strength of my mother’s Starfrost line. “I dare you.”

Svalkat spins around, releasing his hold on Lara. The dagger scrapes against the skin of his neck, leaving a bloody welt.

“Go to Adefina,” I tell the girl. She turns to dash through the back of the kitchen toward the cook’s quarters, stopping only long enough to snatch a jar from atop a shelf. When she opens the jar, her small, winged Starcaix erupts from it, chattering wildly.

“Come on,” Lara insists, ducking through the door.

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