Page 23 of Claimed By her Alien Prince

Taking two steps at once, Nergal, obviously hurt, retreated, followed by Seth. As soon as the two reached the bottom of the stairs, the clash of blades reverberated even louder through the temple. Sparks flew when they met each other's powerful blows.

I watched the show with bated breath. After a few minutes, sweat began to trickle down the aliens' foreheads, stains appeared on the backs of their black shirts. Muscles—intricately tattooed around their upper arms—flexed, looking hard as rock. Even through the viciousness of their fight, there was something beautiful about the way they moved back and forward, side to side, like a dance. A spell descended over the entire group watching them. Nobody moved; I didn't think anybody even breathed.

Nergal's sword flung around and cut Seth's arm, and I flinched as if I had been struck. I barely stopped myself from placing my hand on the same part of my arm where Seth had been struck. The spot stung, making my mind reel.

Red blood ran down Seth's arm and Nergal let out a scream of surprise, while Behlial cackled loudly. "My son's heart has awoken."

As Seth retaliated, I let out a sharp breath, not understanding why it mattered to me who won. It shouldn't have, not one bit. I dreamed about him, yes—repeatedly—and the last one had been damn hot, but in the end, they were both aliens.

Seth fell on one knee, while Nergal pushed Seth's sword down with his own, putting all his weight and power into it. The struggle between the men was palpable; both of their arms shook under the strain to gain the upper hand. Seth's sword slowly lowered. My urge to scream and bite into my fists became nearly overpowering. I wanted to tear my hair out. But most frightening of all, I wanted to sling myself at Nergal and kill him with my bare hands. Tear him apart piece by piece.

That thought scared me. Even though I made peace with the more ruthless, animalistic side of myself a long time ago, I still didn't understand why I cared. No matter who won, I reminded myself, I would have to kill him. To free the world, to save other girls like me in the future from a similar fate to mine.

With a primal battle cry, Seth pushed himself from his kneeling position, using the power and strength behind it to push Nergal's sword back and cut him across his chest.

With a scream of pain and fury, Nergal rushed at Seth. Blow after blow after blow rained down, as Nergal mercilessly advanced and Seth parried, moving backward, toward us.

Judith cried out in fright and jumped to the side, followed by the rest of us, as we scrambled to get out of the fighting men's way. They were so focused on each other, I don't think they would have given a second thought had they accidentally struck one of us.

"Get up here," Behlial yelled at us.

Keeping a wary eye on Seth and Nergal, all six of us made a run for it up the stairs, passing the guards who didn't move and the snarling gargoyles. I barely avoided one of the hideous creatures trying to bite my leg when I reachedthe platform, where we crowded around Behlial's throne.

Behlial didn't pay as any mind, he was too focused on the fight and a deep grin of satisfaction appeared on his face when Nergal struck Seth on the upper thigh, drawing more red blood.

"Is that for you, I wonder? Lilith?" Behlial stared at me.

I didn't understand his question and ignored him, hypnotized by the once-gleaming, polished onyx floor that appeared slick with the two men's blood, one red, one black. It was only a matter of time until one of them slipped, giving the other the upper hand. Again I caught myself praying that it wouldn't be Seth who faltered.

"Tell me, dear, are you shaking for handsome Seth or mean-spirited Nergal?" Behlial's knowing eyes bored into me, they seemed to penetrate me, causing a revolting sensation inside me, as if somebody scratched on the walls of my heart with long, sharp talons.

However, somehow I kept my cool, despite Behlial's probing eyes. "What makes you think I would care one way or another?"

The right corner of his mouth moved up in a sarcastic grin. "It's written all over your face, dear child."

I resisted the urge to bite on my lower lip to keep from showing my disquiet. Instead, I managed to tilt my head ever so slightly and give him a sweet smile, before I returned my attention back tothe fighting men.

A guard hidden in the shadows had the misfortune of being struck by Nergal's sword, as he didn't manage to jump out of the way in time. A scream of pain erupted from him, and he fell to his knees, pressing his left hand onhis injured right arm. His howling continued and his face contorted into a mask of utter terror and pain. Which confused me; both Nergal and Seth had sustained much worse cuts, but other than a grunt of impatience, I hadn't heard or seen either one show any indication of being that hurt.

"Foolish praetorian fool." Behlial muttered, as he pulled a small dagger out of his waistband and threw it at the unfortunate guard.

With dread, I watched the dagger bury itself deep into the man's heart, his screams of agony cut abruptly off as he collapsed dead on the ground. Four people, who I assumed to be servants, ushered out from their hiding place, pulling the dead guard aside.

Once more Behlial's attention returned to me, relishing in the horror that must have been written all over my face. He only killed that man because his screams of pain displeased him. I swallowed hard; he really was the devil.

"My sons were properly trained," he told me with a self-satisfied, mean grin. When he noticed my confusion, he laughed sardonically. "Ah, you don't understand, sweetheart, do you?"

I managed to shake my head before he continued. "Well, I could explain it to you, but that would waste so much time, I think I'd rather show you."

Before I could grasp what he was up to, he pulled out another small dagger, just like the one he had thrown at the unfortunate guard. Like the swords, it seemed to be forged from liquid mercury. Fast like a cheetah, he sliced the dagger over the skin of my arm.

The pain was instant and intense. Incomparable to anything I had ever experienced before, my legsbuckled, and I went down—hard. My knees hitting the stone floor hurt, but that pain was nothing compared to the agony moving up and down my arm. I hardly even noticed the pain in my knees.

My sole focus was on the pain in my arm, as it throbbed from where the flesh had been split. It felt as if my skin was on fire and doused with acid at the same time. I couldn't stop screaming. I had never experiencedanything like this before. Never. It was as if the cut was slowly sawing its way deeper and deeper into my skin, as if it penetrated the very bone underneath, twisting my nerve endings in the process.

But that wasn't all of it. Images popped up in front of me, images of blood and gore and mayhem, which alone would have caused me to scream in horror. It was as if every painting of hell had come to life and danced in front of my eyes. Closing them didn't help; it did the opposite—the pictures only intensified.

It's in my mind, I thought, with just enough awareness to realize that even though the pain was real, the pictures weren't. I forced my mind to stop projecting them.

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