Crafted from the Darkest Dust for My Alpha TwinsUpdated at Oct 6, 2026, 15:51
“Meet Araenia,” He gestures towards me, taking my hand and lifting it to his mouth, his lips brushing over my knuckles. A claiming.
“Very beautiful. Good choice,” A male says, speaking as if I were a carpet choice. Prince Elios is grinning, until he isn’t. He blinks, again and again.
“What are they doing here?” Prince Elios asks through his teeth.
“Brother,” One says as a warning, standing. I recognize Prince Marcel the moment he rises with his blonde hair.
“Answer me,” Prince Elios demands with lethal grace.
“Treaty,” One of the two Prince Elios is glaring at says.
“Or death,” The other one says.
“Cardan,” The first one says, also with warning.
“Dimitri,” Cardan croons. I just stand frozen, not sure where to look.
“For what reason do you need a treaty?” Prince Elios demands to know, striding forward, leaving me on the spot, where I stupidly remain. Prince Elios’ hands slam on the table when he’s answered with silence.
“Protection, Elios.” Prince Marcel says with softness I didn’t expect. He’s clearly the peace maker.
“Protection from what?” Prince Elios demands.
“You know what,” Prince Marcel says through gritted teeth. Prince Elios straightens, shaking his head.
“You two idiots promised last year was the last.” Prince Elios says.
“We do not speak to fourth place Heirs.” Cardan laughs, shaking his head.
“He’s still a prince, Cardan,” Dimitri sighs tiredly.
“Prince mince,” Cardan chuckles, but Prince Elios goes unfazed and sits down, grinning at the loose tongued male.
“Always the bastard,” Prince Elios winks, but Cardan doesn’t flinch.
“You want to get into it, boy?” Cardan asks with a cruel smile.
“I have a guest,” Prince Elios shrugs and then looks at me, beckoning me over with a pat on his leg. I stare at him for another heartbeat. Stalling. Panicking. Second guessing it.
“Are you ill minded, Araenia?” Prince Elios asks with a flat tone. “Come here,” He grits out, anger flashing across his eyes. My feet move against their will as I walk over to him and I count my steps only to think of anything else. I’m barely at his side before his fingers wrap around my wrist, yanking me down onto his lap with a forceful grip on my arm.
“Ow,” I hiss, the word falling from my lips incoherently without thinking it.
“Shut up,” Prince Elios sighs, shifting me so that I’m nestled in the crook of his arm, my shoulder against his chest and he places a hand on my upper thigh, way too high to be comfortable.
“That doesn’t seem like the right way to treat a female,” Cardan says, and the guy with him, Dimitri, glares daggers at him.
“Did you want a taste Cardan?” Prince Elios asks, tapping my thigh.