You never should have wandered alone.

Not here. Not where he could find you.

The moment you felt the air shift, you knew you had made a mistake. A shadow loomed behind you—cold fingers brushing against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You should know better, little mate."

His voice was velvet over steel, deep and resonant, laced with something dangerous. Something hungry.

A hand—clawed, strong—wrapped around your throat. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you. You were his. And you had run.

You gasped, fingers flying to his wrist, but he didn’t budge. His other arm curled around your waist, yanking you back against his chest. He was warm, unbearably so, his skin smooth yet unearthly, a deep violet that shimmered under the low light.

Vaerin.

The alien prince. Your captor. Your mate.

His silver hair brushed against your cheek as he leaned down, lips grazing your ear. "Tell me, little human," he whispered, his fingers flexing against your throat, "do you know what happens to disobedient mates?"

You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering beneath his grip. He felt it. You knew he did.

Vaerin hummed, pleased. "Your body betrays you," he mused, voice thick with amusement. "You pretend to resist, but this—" his fingers squeezed lightly, making your breath hitch, "—this little heart of yours tells the truth."

"Vaerin—" You tried to speak, but his grip tightened just enough to steal the words from your lips.

"Shhh," he cooed, pressing you against the cold metal wall of his chamber. His tail coiled lazily around your thigh, possessive. "You need to learn your place, pretty thing."

Your body burned from his touch. From the way his claws traced over your collarbone, from the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"You drive me insane," Vaerin growled. "So soft. So breakable." His grip on your throat eased, only for his hand to travel lower, his claws skimming over your exposed collarbone. "I should punish you for running. Make sure you never think of leaving me again."