Page 4 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

He releases my sweater, shifting his hold to my wrists. His long, elegant fingers easily wrap around both wrists and hold them in place.

“You lied to me,” he says again, the words grinding out from between his clenched teeth and hardened jaw, both an accusation and a complaint.

My nostrils flare, and I would toss my hair if I could move my head. But Ivrael has me in a hold I cannot escape from, both magically and physically. And even if I were able to move, I’m not certain I could tear myself away from those eyes, that gaze.

“I did,” I say defiantly. “And I would lie again if I thought it would get me away from you and save Izzy from the same fate.”

At that moment, Ivrael—the cool, sardonic, frozen high lord of an Icecaix domain—actuallygrowlsat me, as if I have pushed him so far outside his usual civilized role that he’s lost the capacity for language itself.

He draws the knife from its sheath at his waist—more a dagger, really, and not a knife like any I’ve seen before, possibly made of bronze or some other non-iron metal. I don’t know why my mind is clocking that distinction right now as he lifts it to point toward me.

I swallow hard, fear finally overcoming my defiance, the sound audible between us.

But Ivrael never takes his gaze away from mine as he slides the knife in his hand toward my throat.

Instinctively, I close my eyes, unwilling to see my death coming toward me.

CHAPTER 2

LARA

Nothing happens, and after a moment, I open first one eye, and then the other.

Ivrael's hand—the one holding the knife—is stretched far to one side. He has stepped in closer to me and is reaching around the edge of the stall he has me pinned against. I twist my head sideways and turn my eyes up to see what he’s doing.

He slices a length of ribbon away from a display, then cuts it in half. The Caix maid running the booth, a young female who’s short and round with gray-green skin, watches with wide, bright-green cat eyes. As soon as he has the ribbon in hand, Ivrael sheathes the knife and turns his face back toward me.

When his gaze meets mine, I freeze like a prey animal hoping the predator doesn’t see it. But Ivrael definitely sees me. He stares into my eyes for a long moment, and everything around us goes silent. Or at least, I don’t hear it any longer.

Slowly, he tilts his face toward mine, finally ducking his head down and capturing my lips with his. My eyes close automatically, and my body fits itself against his. His free armslips around my waist, pressing against my back to pull me even closer.

His mouth is cool against mine—not like the ice I always somehow expect, but tingling, like the feeling of mint. His tongue flicks along the seam of my mouth, leaving that cool sensation behind. Almost as soon as I feel it, though, it disappears, turning hot like cinnamon oil, burning my lips.

I almost moan at the sensation, opening my mouth almost involuntarily. Ivrael takes the opportunity without hesitation, slipping in to plunder my mouth with his tongue, invading all my senses. The cool heat of his touch sends tingles shooting down my body as if my mouth connects directly to every other erogenous zone I possess.

He takes my bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue over it, then releasing it and licking back into my mouth.

Everywhere he touches, my body turns liquid, pooling into a damp heat at my core. I half expect to see actual steam rise between us.

My entire body strains toward him, and it’s as if his touch burns me, brands me, binds me to him. Marks me as his. As if every time he’s touched me before has forged a path between us, blazing a trail that only Ivrael knows.

Fumes from the kiss float up into my head, leaving it reeling and my body aching with desire.

As if he can read exactly how I feel, he steps closer until every part of him touches every part of me, pressing my back into the wall behind me. His cock strains between us, and I fight myself not to grind against him, begging for more.

He taps the inside of my wrists once, murmuring some foreign word as he trails the fingers of one hand down my arms, his fingertips on my left arm and his thumb on my right, until his hand can no longer span the distance between them.

I try to drop my hands to wrap them around his neck, but I can’t move them. I’m as much bound by him as I am bound to him.

His hand moves to the right side of my body, sliding all the way down that arm and then farther, his fingers grazing my ribs, his thumb brushing lightly across my breast, pausing just long enough to flick at my hardened nipple. This time I do moan, and then I begin returning his kiss with enthusiasm, my tongue tangling with his.

Ivrael goes completely still, and when he groans, sheer power rushes through me. His hand moves, and this time fumbles at my wrists. He drags his mouth away from me and rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavily.

Dimly, as if from a distance, I hear voices breaking through the haze that drugs my senses.

“I expect payment.”

“And you’ll get it,” Ivrael says over his shoulder.

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