The Immortal Prince ✔️

11

Word Count: 2140

~Vaela

I run, terrified.

I'm being chased, shadows nipping at my heels, licking up my legs as I flee. My shoulder smashes against doorframes, my entire body knocked about as I search around for an escape. I'm going to be caught, and gutted, and my last breath will be made in this dark, inescapable cave.

As I wade through the darkness, I can't restrain my harsh breathing, desperately trying to find an exit.

All of a sudden, two arms appear from the shadows, hands grasping both of my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks.

They steady me, despite my thrashing.

"Vaela, what's going on?"

Finally I still, throat painfully dry as I rack in breath's, panic gently releasing it's hold on me. I realise it's Hale standing in front of me, grip tight against my shoulders.

Looking around, it's obvious there is no danger pursuing me, that I'm standing in Hale's cave, completely safe.

I step away from him, looking down at myself. My nightclothes are plastered to my front, sweat soaking my skin. A chill rattles through me, the reality that it's the middle of the night and I've run through the cave screaming, having woken Hale, sinking in.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what happened...I must have been dreaming." I sweep my hands through my damp hair.

Looking around, it dawns on me that I've stumbled into Hale's room. His bed sheets are strewn about, and when I glance back at him, his hair is mussed, eyes frantic. I woke him suddenly.

"Why don't you come sit down." He motions to the bed, catching my gaze.

Strangely, I oblige him, allowing him to sit next to me. My head is a mess, thoughts splayed about my brain incoherently.

"I'm sorry, I've never done anything like this before," I note quietly, looking down at my hands. "Not since..."

"Not since you were mortal?" Hale prompts gently.

Running my hands back through my hair, I grip my head, frustrated. "I hate this. I want to be immortal again."

Hale shifts next to me, tilting his head down to he can examine my face. The weight of his hand behind me presses into the bed, inches away from touching me.

"And you will," he murmurs. "I may know of a Gaze Reader."

I twist to gave him, stunned. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I didn't want to get your hopes up, because she is not always the most...gracious person out there," he explains, ruffling his hair with his hands. It's so fluffy and wild when he's just awoken.

Getting to my feet, all my energy feels as if it's been replenished. Hope. Finally I have hope.

"We have to try, right?"

"Yes, of course. We will try," he assures me.

For the briefest moment, I'm tempted to launch into his arms, overcome with relief. I hold myself back though, knowing that only a few days ago, he was contemplating how best to rid of me from his life.

And he's a Pureblood. I've vowed not to touch him as my last possible mortal act of self preservation.

"Sorry for waking you," I murmur, biting the corner of my lip.

He shrugs. "I don't need sleep."

"Glad you're not naked again," I note.

When I close my eyes, I can still see the image of his body, as magnificent as the rest of him, tattooed and muscled. My stomach flutters, hoping he doesn't have a immortal ability to sense the shift in my mood.