Page 70 of Bred By Sor'en

A snapshots picture frame into my mind, one after another, dizzyingly enough to make me grip the wall for support. Hot saliva pools in my mouth as I double over, trying to keep my retching quiet. Melion shows me again, slower this time, w

hich would be great if all the damn halls didn’t look the same.

One of the pictures now lodged in my mind as if they were my own memories sports a symbol of a room. It's what's at the bottom of that mental image that makes me nearly cry out,giving myself away. My hand snapping over my mouth. Limp long legs that I’d know anywhere. These are Sor’en’s memories. It seems obvious now, but my heart lurches at the trickle of blood smeared across the ground by his shoes. Tears burst into my eyes as I tuck into another dark alcove. Thankfully, the ship is littered with them, the most decorative warship I’ve ever seen. Each alcove fitted with precious gem molding and tapestries that make it seem like more of a palace than dungon. The lighting is even dim and pretty, the hallways fitted with runners! Rugs in a space vessel. The absurdity is a good distraction from the aching hollow of my chest. The anxiety that keeps trying to root my feet to the ground.

I peek out of the recess, heading back into the long and twisting hall, checking the foreign and complex Kalzait symbols on the walls denoting the rooms. Nothing here looks familiar, so when it splinters off, I bank left, only to be greeted with another volley of footsteps, although these are far lighter. I shove myself back around the corner, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I can hear it whooshing in my ears as a small Kalzait female rounds the corner opposite me, pushing an empty cart, none the wiser to my existence. Her short, pale light green hair bobs just above her iridescent wings, reflecting light even as dim as it is here.

“…the prince does whatever best suits him. I’ve long stopped trying to understand his whims,” a deep male voice offers from somewhere far too close behind me, and I blanch, bolting down the hall the female just left. But of course, this one has no alcove, no recess to tuck into, just a lone door only halfway closed and getting closer every domtic. Blindly, I slam myself into the room, my breath wheezing rapidly through my lungs as my stomach lets out a nasty little pang. I hiss, gripping my swollen belly, my head knocking against the back of the door.

For a moment, I let misery overwhelm me. The impossibility of actually making it off this ship with Sor’en in tow. Making it off alive at this point.

“Well, this is most unexpected.”

I scream as a voice finds me in the dark room, spinning, slamming my back against the door as my hands fumble for the controls.

My eyes widen as a soft light kicks on, illuminating the scowling male lying on the bed.

“For the gods’ sake, do not make that sound again. I am horribly hungover.”

Two things occur to me at once.

Firstly, I have just shoved myself into the bedroom of Kalzait royalty.

Secondly, I am most certainly going to fucking die.

thirty-five

Hue

“You are quite ghastly to the eyes. If you intend to seduce or assassinate me, I must insist you spare yourself the humiliation and choose the ladder.”

I’m speechless, slack jaw and heaving, around panicked, jumpy breaths as the male rises from the bed, his four-paneled wings flaring out as if to steady him. The male continues his deep scowl as we both take stock of one another. His skin is like that of all his species, pale and soft, if not lightly downy. His long hair is mussed around his shoulders, decorated as lavishly as he is with his braids and charms. So long it reaches the bottom of his pecks in the billowing deep V of his shirt.

Among him are more adornments than I think I’ve ever seen on any being other than perhaps the alien call girls who often haunt the inner rims of more seedy stations.

When he reaches the middle of the room, snapping his hand out suddenly, I scream again, readying myself for a killing blow. My eyes squeezed tight and arms wrapped around my belly. Far away, Melion rages. No pain comes, but the room is brighter now.

Oh, he was only turning on a light.

He rubs his temples before letting himself collapse into a nearby backless chair. His wings fluttering until they tuck tightly onto his back. “Explain to me why there is a loud, grotesquely pregnant human in the chambers of my ship before I call for my guard.”

“I ugh… my name is Hue. I’m here to… well, I—"

“I am highly debating just killing you.”

I frown at him, still panting. “I am pregnant!”

His eyes drop to my exposed stomach, and for the first time since slipping out of the temple, I am suddenly aware of my state of undress. A free-flowing skirt and more or less a band around my breasts are all I’ve been wearing lately. Everything else making me feel like a tubed meal replacement. He pulls a face. “Yes, very aware. Please refrain from pulling my attention to it again.”

What a fucking ass—

His hand lifts toward a bell-like mechanism on the wall. I lurch forward, all but slamming myself on top of him to snatch his wrist. His long, pointed ears slam backward at the assault, and it seems his haggard, intoxicated state has made me grossly misunderstand his physical ability. A blink later, I’m pinned against the wall with a hollow thud, my head bouncing off a beautifully framed piece of art before it crashes to the ground behind me.

Another panicked breath later, there's a violent knock at the door. “Prince Ravian is everything well?”

Fear hits me hard, and I can feel Melion’s rage again pulsing through the bond, and somewhere very far away, I hear an all too familiar roar. Leaving no doubt, my mate is aware of everything.

My lip wobbles, theprince.