The Immortal Prince ✔️

3

Word Count: 2112

~Vaela

"Ah!" My palms slap over my eyes, the image of the man burned into the back of my eyelids.

"Who are you?" The voice questions. It's a deep, rich sound that spreads over me, slightly accented.

I'm imagining this.

I must be. There is no conceivable way that I just saw a tall man with silver tattoos standing at what I now realise is a doorway. Thankfully his bare chest was all I got an eyeful of, and not any lower down...

My fingers part slightly as I peek through them. I am not imagining this.

The man is now fully dressed, which took him only mere moments. His dark shirt reveals the silver tattoos I thought were a trick of the light, patterned in an unfamiliar way.

They aren't, however, as striking his eyes, which now regard me irritably. They too, are silver, although have a lighter hue than his tattoos. He's unlike anything I've ever seen before.

This isn't a cave dweller...He's far too pretty.

"You were naked..." I whisper, mortified.

"This is my home," he responds.

There isn't malice, like I would have expected from my intrusion. Instead, he's rather stoic, unintimidated by my presence...If I had half his stature, I too wouldn't find me to be much of a threat.

And then it hits me.

"Pureblood?" My voice quivers, as my eyes trace over him.

I don't dare say Immortal Prince. There's no confirmation of who he is, but he owns that title. I can even imagine a crown atop his obsidian hair, silver and jewelled.

He examines me quietly. "Mortal?"

"How did you..."

"No one can get past the magic I shrouded this place in." He gestures to the door, now ajar, which I stumbled through. "Unless, well, they are mortal."

This was a mistake. Would he make a lunge at me if I tried to run, or would he ensnare me with magic? His hands are seated casually in his pockets, but his gaze studies me with unrelenting pressure.

"Are you trapping me?" It's not as if running would do me any good. Would the cold get me first, or would I slip and hit my head against a rock? So now I'm stuck in a pureblood's home, mortal, and with nothing around to defend myself.

He dips his head forward, silken black waves brushing against his brows."You walked into my home."

"I touched your damn mortal pool out there and now I'm bleeding out the knee and so cold I don't think I'm going to have fingers next time I check!" I'm yelling, at this point.

His gaze drops to where my pant leg is rolled up, revealing my gruesome wound. The blood has dried, but not before having trailed around my calf and into my shoe.

"You seriously-"

"Climbed up here and fell into the pool by accident, and now my hair will likely grey..." I paw at my face, as if I can feel wrinkles beginning to show already.

The pure blood sighs through their nose. "This is awfully tiresome. You can go now."

He extends his hand toward the door, brow quirked.

I just gape at him. Maybe it's because I'm so hopeless that I've accepted death may alleviate my misery, or I'm finally relieved of incoming hyperthermia, but I'm not frightened of him anymore.