Alien god

I bit back a rush of impatience at that. I didn’t have time to sit around here waiting to heal. I gave a grim, short laugh when I remembered that things could have been worse. I could have been on the brink of death, forced into an ages-long slumber to recover, the way I had been after my last fight with my cousin.

I slipped out of the bed, feeling a sharp ache all around my torso and back where Skalla’s claws had dug in so deep. My tail snapped back and forth, my wings flickering with tension. Where are you, cousin?

A soft rap at the door pulled me from thoughts of Skallagrim.

“Enter.”

Shoshen opened the door and came in, ears flattened.

“My lord. I heard you rise and wanted to bring you fresh clothing.”

I took a bundle of soft Sio

“You heard me rise?” I asked, lifting a questioning brow. Sio

“Ah, yes. I have been out there for some time.” He pointed out the door to the landing. “I did not want to wake you, so I waited to hear movement.”

“You’ve been waiting out there since before the sun rose?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ashken, Shoshen, and Aiko exemplified the Sio

“Thank you,” I said. Shoshen looked pleased, a smile tugging at his orange face.

I pulled on the fresh trousers, along with one of my vests, and a pair of boots, no doubt taken from my old room in the Eve Tower.

As if sensing my thoughts, Shoshen said, “Your old room is ready too, my lord, should you choose to use it.”

“I will remain here for the time being,” I informed him. As long as that human was in the room overhead, I wouldn’t sleep anywhere else. “Have you heard any movement upstairs?”

“None, my lord.”

Hmm. Was that good or bad? I knew nothing about human sleeping patterns or needs, but the silence above made me uneasy.

“Some breakfast, please. For the human and for me,” I said to Shoshen.

“Yes, my lord!” He left.

I wasn’t even hungry. In all honesty, I just wanted to give Shoshen something to do that would provide me with a little uninterrupted quiet.

But it was too quiet. Shoshen was right – no movement from above. My jaw ticked.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had sprinted up the stairs and yanked open the door to the human’s room.

My eyes sca

Which only left the bed.

I knew she was there before my eyes landed on the lump under the white bedding. Her distinct scent was strongest over there, laced with the fragrances of clean, soft fur and soap. I stole over to the bed, staying silent in case, like me, she could be woken by sound. I wanted the chance to observe her u

My gaze fell on her sleeping face, and my entire body stilled.

Every time I see this human, she is different.

Removing her protective gear and outer clothing had turned her into another creature entirely. Sleep, it seemed, did something similar. Gone was the panic and tension, the fight and the fear from her face. No more terror, no triumph. She was on her back, only her head, neck, and hands visible. Every feature had smoothed, her brow relaxed, her fingers slack against the fur. Tiny breaths made the furs rise and fall. She looked nearly i

Wake up, woman, and tell me just what you think you’re doing in my world.

The question was still there. The urge to wake her, though, was not. Now that I knew she was alive, I could rest a little easier in this moment of quiet. This moment with no ru

“Why can you not always be this easy to deal with?” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

A little pucker appeared between her brows, as if, even in sleep, she wished to display some sort of defiance against me. Instinctively, I snapped open my wings and arched them overhead to block some of the light hitting her face.

Her face once again relaxed, a silken sigh emitting from parted lips. I adjusted the angle of my wings to better shade her, and it was only when the movement made one of my wounds throb in protest that I stopped to wonder what in the blasted stars and stone I was doing.

She was my prisoner! I was not here to help her sleep better.

Let her face the dawn. Face me.

My wings drew back in a movement so quick it made dark hairs rustle around her face. The pucker of tension between her brows returned as the light flooded in, and that both satisfied and bothered me.

I was allowing the human to do far too much of that. Bother me. She was weak. Pitiful. A fragile creature who’d had to build a machine just to get here at all. I was a god. I could smash the stone of the sky with a single blow of my fist and cross the universe with one beat of my wings.

And yet...

And yet, I was left unsettled, on edge, wings flickering with tension and fangs grinding, all because of the little human sleeping in this bed.

I should leave the chamber now. Leave, and not return until I have Rúnwebbe’s web so I can properly question her.

The door stood open from when I’d come through it as if agreeing with my assessment and beckoning me outwards.

I did not go.

I flung myself into the chair by the fire and waited.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Torrance

My eyes opened, and I lay still for a long time, trying to make sense of the glowing spire of rose gold overhead. A plush mattress cushioned me, and thick, fluffy blankets warmed me. This was way more comfortable than my bed on the ship...

The ship!

I wasn’t on the fucking ship. I was at the top of an alien tower guarded by the male who’d likely killed my friends. I felt as if I were trapped in some dark fairy tale, only there was no window, no ladder of hair I could let down. It was just me.

Except, it wasn’t just me. I realized quickly I was not alone. My eyes landed on the chair near the hearth. My breath shrivelled in my lungs, and every muscle tensed as I fought not to move and draw his notice.

He was here. Asha Wylfrael. In my room while I slept. From here, I could see him seated in profile. He slouched back against the chair, his long, muscled legs stretched in from of him and his wings draping down and to the sides. His fingers were steepled together against his chest – a chest that was now mostly covered with what looked like a black leather vest. His broad jaw was tight, his eyes ahead, staring intently into nothing. He looked like a sullen dark prince, as if he’d moodily tossed himself into his throne.

He didn’t stay that way for long. His wings folded brusquely behind him and his back went ramrod straight. He knows I’m awake. Panic made my throat go tight and dry.

He rose, the movement one of perfectly contained power. He turned towards the bed, no longer a sprawled-out prince but a king, a monarch in his realm.