Page 51 of Claimed By her Alien Prince

I sighed. It was an impossible impasse. I could not be responsible for her death, but I could not be responsible for her watchingmedie either.

Suddenly I felt like throwing the pitcher I held in my hand against the wall. The only reason I didn't was because Lilith was asleep on the bed, and the last thing I wanted was to wake her up. At least in sleep she had an escape from this terrible place.

Escape!

That word again.

It tantalized me more times than I could count. But where before there had been no place to run to, there was now Adama.

We could flee to Adama. The nobles were still coming and going and there was no law stopping us princes from doing the same. Some of my brothers already had.

I was sure there would be places on Adama where we could hide until Behlial was forced to leave.

But somehow, I knew I had done this before too, and it hadn't worked out. I also realized that Behlial would not stop eradicating all life on Adama in his search for us and no matter how much I loved Lilith, I couldn't allow that to happen either.

Too many innocent people were already dying.

No, this had to end. This had to be the final styx, one way or another.

I picked the bedding off the floor and made the bed as well as I could without disturbing Lilith's slumber.

By the stars, I loved her. Loved her so deeply, it frightened me down to my core.

Iwokewiththemother of all headaches. As if I had drunk too much the night before. Then I remembered last night and realized the headache came from being dehydrated after having literally cried my body dry.

Seth lay sprawled next to me, my head rested on his wide chest, and I listened to the steady thump, thump of his heart, so reassuring and yet so frightening, because it could stop at any moment.

This was the first time since I had known him that he slept, giving me time to peruse his hard features, which had softened some in his sleep.

I gently brushed my finger over the hard line by the side of his mouth. He looked like he was in his late twenties, and I had a hard time reconciling this with the knowledge that he was over three hundred years old.

With all that had happened, I hadn't given that little piece of information much thought, but now that it was there, I couldn't stop thinking about it. How did this even work?

Would I slowly age while he stayed in this form for eternity? Would I wither and die while he remained this strapping alien vampire? He kept telling me he wasn't a vampire, that he was a Daemon—whatever that meant—but I couldn't stop wondering if he could turn me into one too so that we could stay young forever together?

That, of course, required that we survived the next few years without his brothers killing him. That notion sent another stabbing pain through my heart, causing it to pick up speed, but I pushed those thoughts from my mind.

Instead I brushed my fingers over the fine stubble on his cheek, admiring the sharp line of his cheekbones and the slightly hooked nose, as if it had been broken once.

There was a faint scar by his eyebrow, reminding me of the other scars on his body, of all the terrible things he had endured during his long life. Making me wonder how Daemons could receive scars. Weren't they supposed to heal when they drank blood?

No matter where my mind turned, question after question popped up for which I had no answers, making my head hurt even worse.

Seth's arm was slung around my waist, and carefully I extracted myself from his embrace.

He moaned slightly, but I needed to use the bathroom, and I needed to at least drink a glass of water, otherwise the pounding in my head would kill me.

Somebody had cleaned up the room after I had fallen asleep, even swept and mopped the floor, it seemed, but I was too tired to wonder if servants had been in here or if Seth had done it.

On the table, as if replaced by magic, stood pitchers filled with juices and water, cool in their perfect golden vessels, replacing the ones I had dented the night before.

After using the bathroom and emptying almost an entire pitcher of water, I munched on freshly baked croissants, refusing to think about where they came from or who made them, and attacked a pile of scrambled eggs next.

"I love watching you eat." Seth's still sleep-addled voice startled me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"If you're awake, I want to be awake, I can't bear the thought of missing even a second of your presence."

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