Page 69 of Dark Prince's Captive

Or if he loses control.

This is terrible.

He’s a literal timebomb.A living, breathing, walking nuclear weapon.

The magnitude of his power nearly makes my knees buckle.No wonder people believe he’s the prince mentioned in the scrolls.

No wonder they’re terrified of him.

And by extension, of me.

My stomach churns as I stare at the powerful man in front of me, even as uninvited sympathy invades my chest.How lonely he must be.Everyone must be too frightened to interact with him on any level deeper than a superficial one, including his own family.It’s obvious that they care about him, but they’re not as close as I’d expect siblings and parents to be.

I want to say something, but no words come as he takes my hand and pulls me back upstairs, through the dolmen, and into the sunshine.Feeling frozen to my bones, I welcome the tropical heat.

The rock closes behind us.The guard still stands at attention next to it, sweat dripping down his face.I can’t say if it’s from fear or from the weather.His shoulders sag in relief when Aruan leads me back up the path.

I understand his fear now more than ever.What exactlyisthe extent of Aruan’s power?Can he truly destroy this world?A single nuclear explosion is unlikely to do that, but maybe a series of them?

Then again, maybe his power can manifest in some other, even more destructive way.In a way that’s connected to his mate… which he’s convinced isme.

Fuck.I need to leave this place, now.How do I do that?Somehow, the Phaelix can travel between worlds.That’s how they bring the humans here.And if they brought me here, they must be able to take me back.

That is, if they don’t enslave me first.

A few kalligrammatids flap up from the undergrowth, fluttering toward the lake.Undoubtedly cognizant of my internal turmoil, Aruan veers off the path to follow them.

“Look,” he says, showing me a patch of alien flowers with black petals and pink, elongated cones in the center.“Night flowers.They’ve earned the name because they only give off their scent after sunset.”He bends down and neatly breaks off a thick stalk on the ground.“Let’s pick you some.You can put them in a vase and discover their perfume when night falls.”

I watch, lost in thought, as he continues to gather a bouquet.I suppose what he’s doing is romantic.No man has ever given me flowers, and Iamcurious about their smell.But it’s not enough to make me forget about what I’ve learned.

A nuclear explosion.

What if something sets him off again?

I swallow and edge away from Aruan, closer to the blueish shore of the lake.I need time to think, to gather my thoughts and put everything in perspective.Or maybe just a private moment to come to terms with it all.

I dig the toe of my boot into the blue sand.It shimmers like sea sand in the sun, like the particles of broken mother-of-pearl and abalone.Does that mean there are shellfish in the water?I’d give anything to scuba dive to the bottom of this lake.

A rustling sounds near the overhanging branches of the blood tree.I turn to face it, and then my heart slams to a stop.

A long beak peeks through the strings of dense leaves.The pointed toes of a claw follow next.The whole tree appears to shake, the music of the leaves like the gentle jingling of a tambourine, and then a quetzalcoatlus steps out, its giraffe-like body throwing a long shadow that swallows me.

“Elsie!”Aruan yells just as the magnificent animal spreads its enormous wings and charges straight at me.

I know what Aruan is going to do without having to look at him.The strange connection that I always feel to him warns me of his intention.

I spin around, shouting, “No!”as I sprint toward Aruan.My heart beats with unfamiliar strength in my chest, fueling me to run faster.“No, Aruan!Don’t hurt her!”Skidding to a halt in the mud, I fall at Aruan’s feet and throw my arms around his legs.“Please don’t kill her.She’s not going to harm us.Look—she’s stopped!”

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that the quetzalcoatlus has slowed down to a penguin-like waggle.

“It’s Betty,” I cry out when his jaw hardens at the quetzalcoatlus’s approach.“Look,” I say again.“She has a tear in her left wing at the tip.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the quetzalcoatlus as he replies in a grim tone, “It’ll eat you for a snack.”

“She won’t,” I insist.“I know her.”

Proving the point, the pterosaur stops and tilts her head before lifting her beak as if smelling the air.

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