Page 124 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

I gather my skirts and run up the stairs I’ve created, my feet sure despite the slick surface. It’s like conducting a symphony—each step melting away as I move forward, the ice rejoining the swirling cloud of fragments that follows me, leaving behind a shimmering trail of shattered shards.

With a wave, I call the shards to follow me.

I reach the top of the staircase and come face-to-face with a hunter, a tall Starcaix man with olive skin and cruel eyes, his crossbow shaking in fear, his eyes gleaming with terror.

Without thinking, I gesture sharply. My cloud of ice shards launches forward like thousands of tiny daggers, catching him in the chest and throat.

He falls without a sound, blood freezing before it can stain the ice.

I should feel horror at what I’ve just done. Instead, savage satisfaction courses through me. They came to hurt me, to use me for whatever schemes brought them here.

They deserve whatever Ivrael and I do to them.

The ice dragon Ivrael lands on a section of intact wall, his massive form somehow perfectly balanced.

He’s easily three times my height, his blue-white scales gleaming like fresh snow. His wings spread wide, and I catch my breath at their beauty—delicate as frost on a windowpane but strong enough to shatter stone.

Those impossible eyes find mine, still that striking ice-blue with swirling golden sparks.

Still his eyes.

Ivrael’s head snakes down toward me, and I reach out without fear to touch his muzzle. His scales are cold but don’t burn, and I swear I feel him lean into my touch. A low rumble vibrates through him—not quite a purr, but something satisfied and possessive.

Trust me, that sound seems to say.

And despite everything—despite the year of captivity, despite his manipulations and secrets….

God help me, I do trust him.

CHAPTER 33

IVRAEL

The agony of shifting back into my Caix form burns through every cell in my body. My bones crack and reform, each vertebra grinding against the next as my spine shortens, my neck retracting. The sound echoes off the ice walls of the maze like breaking glass.

I force myself to remain silent through the transformation, though my jaw aches with the effort of containing my groans.

Wings fold inward, scales retreating beneath my skin like molten metal being forged in reverse. The sensation sends tremors through my newly reformed muscles. When the last scale disappears, I find myself on my knees atop the wall, shivering and Icecaix-shaped once more.

Lara stands a few feet away, and for once she isn’t running, her expression a mixture of fascination and wariness that makes my chest ache.

Even through the haze of post-transformation pain, my body responds to her presence, to the way she takes an instinctive step toward me before catching herself.

“I didn’t know you could shift.” Her voice carries equal parts accusation and awe.

She takes another step closer, and I catch the scent of her. It makes my newly reformed senses reel, and even after everything that’s happened tonight, my cock hardens.

“Neither did I, until recently.” My laugh scrapes raw in my throat as I add, “Just now, actually.”

The admission costs me another crack in my carefully maintained control.

A wave of dizziness washes over me as I attempt to push myself to my feet. My muscles scream in protest, remembering a different shape, a different way of moving.

The ground seems to tilt beneath me, and I stumble. Before I can fall, Lara’s hand catches my arm. Her touch burns like fire against my ice-cold skin.

“Easy,” she murmurs, steadying me. Then she catches herself, seems to remember who—what—I am, and starts to pull away.

I catch her wrist before she can retreat completely. “Don’t.”

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