The Immortal Prince ✔️

15

Word Count: 1702

~Vaela

My fork drags noisily across my plate as I push my dinner around mindlessly.

Hale hasn't so much as glanced up. He's impossible to irritate.

Finally he sighs, resting back in his seat, meeting my gaze. "You going around and touching strangers isn't going to work anymore."

We've only stewed on last nights failure for a few hours, and it seems both of us are defeated. In hindsight, the chances of me finding my mate in a sketchy bar was slim.

"Why not?" I mutter drily.

"The chance of you finding your mate like that is near impossible. It's too dangerous," he decides. My stomach twists. He's confirmed all the doubts that plagued my mind all day today.

I tap my fork against my lower lip. "So then what?"

"So, we wait. If you're meant to run into them, you will." Hale's gaze is sharp, monitoring me.

Wilting into my seat, I discard of the utensil onto the table, defeated. Hale is the only person I can feasibly run into here, so I'm out of luck.

"Can't do that like this." I motion around me, referencing this cave.

"I'll take you places, but only when you're a bit stronger, so keep eating." He gestures to my fork, which I pick up irritably, spooning steamed vegetables into my mouth. I'm mortal, food can only make me so strong.

Deciding I can't bear to eat another bite, I toss my fork down, flattening my palms over my hair. "If you're hating this, you can dump me somewhere in solitude and I can figure myself out."

Hale's gaze suddenly darkens. "You're not leaving my sight."

"Why are you doing this?" I question. "Why help me?"

He goes silent for a moment, looking down at the table with a clenched jaw. I chew on the edge of my nail as he sweeps his hand back through his hair.

"I've got nothing better to do," he finally says.

True. But also a lie.

"But you don't get anything from this." I've disturbed his peace, demand food three times a day and occupy his space as he pursues his interests. Unless he wants to witness my death himself, I'm bewildered by his hospitality.

"I get pleasure of looking at you. You're like a living breathing piece of artwork," he muses, chewing on a strawberry.

I scoff, glaring at him flatly. "You're not funny."

That observation would be better suited to him. He's sculpted perfection, which I'm still convinced is magically induced.

"Who said I'm joking?" He quirks a brow, challenging me.

I don't take the bait, too tired. Getting a Pureblood to tell me I'm pretty isn't on my agenda today, and unless he's my mate, it shouldn't matter to me at all.

"How long have you been alive?" I ask, drawing the conversation away from his faux compliment.

He sighs, tipping his head back. "Too long."

"And how much of your life have you spent here, in this cave?" As comfortable as it is, I couldn't imagine living here perpetually. I'm eager to explore again, and I've only been in here for a short period of time.

"A century or so."

My eyes widen. "All alone?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes not."