Page 128 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

Beside me, Ivrael moves with that otherworldly grace of his, apparently unbothered by his complete lack of clothing. The moonlight catches on his bare skin, making him look carved from living ice.

I try not to stare. Try not to remember how his hands felt as they caressed me. How he felt inside me.

The sounds of voices carry across the snow-covered grounds, growing louder as we approach. My stomach drops and my steps slow involuntarily as I realize practically the entire household has gathered outside the manor’s back entrance—servants, guests, everyone.

“Ah, hell.”

The crowd falls silent as we draw closer, and I catch Izzy’s wide-eyed stare. She stands between the firelord twins, her hand clasped in Rhaela’s. Kila hovers nearby, her tiny wings buzzing with agitation, Adefina waiting next to her with a tea towel in herhand, prepared to wrap up the raya as soon as Kila realizes she’s cold.

Then the silence explodes into chaos.

“Was that really a dragon?”

“Where did all that light come from?”

“Did anyone else see the ice walls shatter?”

“Your Lordship, are you quite all right?”

The questions come from all directions, voices overlapping until I can barely distinguish one from another. I’d like to answer what I can, but how can I explain what happened?

How could I even begin to describe Ivrael’s transformation? Or my own explosion of power?

And assuming I do figure out how to discuss any of it…should I?

Izzy appears at my elbow, Kila perched on her shoulder, my sister’s voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on between you two? And why is he naked?”

Heat floods my cheeks. “It’s...complicated.”

Kila’s wings buzz faster. “I knew something was different! The way he looks at you now?—”

“Silence!” Ivrael’s voice cracks across the courtyard.

Everyone immediately falls quiet.

He somehow manages to look regal despite his complete lack of clothing, those impossible eyes swirling with golden sparks as he surveys the gathered crowd.

“I understand you all have questions,” he says, his tone carrying that edge of command that makes me shiver with remembered need. “I will address everything you each need to know—and nothing more—in the morning.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd, but no one dares argue directly.

“Now,” he continues, “I suggest everyone return to their rooms.”

The crowd begins to disperse, though I catch several backwards glances and whispered conversations.

“I should go too,” I say, turning toward the entrance. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

But before I can take a step, Ivrael’s hand catches my arm. He pulls me to him, and suddenly his mouth is on mine.

The kiss is possessive, claiming, his lips cool against my heated skin. My body betrays me instantly, melting into him despite our audience. His hand tangles in my hair as he deepens the kiss, and I forget about everything else—the watching servants, my sister’s shocked gasp, Kila’s delighted squeal.

When he finally releases me, I’m breathless and trembling.

“Good night,” he murmurs against my lips, then steps back with a possessive smile that makes my knees weak. Again.

As I stumble toward the entrance on unsteady legs, I hear the shocked whispers start up again behind me. But all I can think about is the taste of starlight and ice still lingering on my tongue, and how nothing will ever be the same after tonight.

“There is no way you’re sending me back to the kitchen tonight,” Kila trills out, diving toward me and landing to perch on my shoulder. “Not after that display.”

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