Chapter 22

It’s Me, Your Old Friend, Eve

My alien captors have given me macarons for breakfast. Oh, and another bottle of wine. This time, it’s a chardonnay. I glare at it as I take the wine opener and use it to carve a deep groove into the table. I’m going to use this nice piece of furniture to keep track of how many days Abraxas and I have been apart.

How long did he say until we died of broken hearts? Between seven and sixty days? Those seem like strangely precise numbers. My stomach roils with unease. What if there’s something more to that? I took the words as some cultural myth, but … there could be a basis in reality that I’m missing.

I’ll tell that stupid moth about it. Maybe it’ll help sway him? He seems easy enough to sway. If he’s half as obsessed with me as I am with him, I can manipulate that.

“Um, Your Imperial Majesty.” Avril raises an eyebrow as she watches me destroy the pristine surface of the table with my crude heartbreak calendar. “Do you need a pen or something? They have pens here. Tablets, too. Do you want an advanced alien version of an iPad?”

I smile at her.

“Nope. All good.” I toss the wine opener on the table and drag the plate of macarons closer. Some of them are in colors I’ve never seen before. That bothers me. I’m not eating a French cookie that comes in a color I didn’t know existed until two minutes ago. I squint at the plate. That one feels like it’s the color of period cramps. Is that even possible? I wouldn’t say it was red; it’s decidedly not. It just looks painful.

I pick up a brown one and sniff it. Smells like chocolate. My stomach isn’t just roiling now; it’s demanding that I feed it. Zero waits impatiently for me to eat, the choker at her neck glowing faintly. My eyes lift up to the fine red lace that now covers half the ceiling and a good portion of the walls. It wasn’t there yesterday, but when I woke up, it’s the first thing I noticed.

It’s annoyingly beautiful and nothing like the ugly meat strands that decorate the walls elsewhere.

“Would you hurry up and eat? I am not allowed to consume food until you do.” Zero glares at me, narrowing her red eyes as she digs her fingertips into the table. It dents, and I smirk, slowly running my tongue around the outside of the macaron. Oh, shit, that’s good.

“You know what? You’re pretty damn ungrateful for somebody that was rescued from an eternity of loneliness in the woods. Look at that body. Cute as hell. And all you can do is complain?” My tongue darts out, flicking against the cookie again as Zero scowls at me. She has tiny pointy teeth for canines, like a kitten or something. Unlike a kitten, she looks at me with the stare of a homicidal maniac. No … wait. Kittens get that look sometimes, too.

With a sigh, I toss my cookie down on my plate. I miss my cat, Annabelle. I miss my mom. I miss my dad. I miss those sushi burritos I get at the drive-thru near the commercial kitchen that I rent. Mostly, I miss Abraxas.

Fuck, I miss him so much. Broken heart he said? Maybe he was right, corny as that sounds.

“You’re going to tease me?” Zero growls, standing up from the table. Her white hair and matching dress drift around her in a strange breeze. Err. She narrows her eyes at me and slaps the fabric back into place. “The vents on this model were not installed in ideal locations.”

Pussy air vents? That’s hilarious.

“Maybe you should try to relax and not get so heated?” Avril offers, reaching for a macaron and taking a bite of it. She picked one of the alien colored ones. I wait to see if she’ll spontaneously combust. Instead, her eyes widen and she shoves the remainder of it into her mouth.

“You are not permitted to eat before the future queen,” Zero says, but like she’d do it, too, if she wasn’t remote controlled by the prince. That’s what I’ve come to understand via Avril’s explanations: Rurik controls Zero through his blood. Great. A blood-controlled barefoot cyborg as a prison guard. Love it.

“Not permitted to,” Avril agrees, selecting another macaron. “But not physically restrained from doing it the way you are. Two different things.”

My smile is almost real for a second. I like Avril. Still hate Zero. Am immensely grateful that Tabbi Kat wasn’t with me when I was kidnapped. Can you imagine having her here? Talk about insult to injury.

“I give you my express permission to eat.” I wave my hand in what I feel like is an imperial princess sort of way. Zero flicks her tongue against one of her cute wittle canines and sits back down in her chair. She gobbles up three macarons before I can blink, groaning as her eyes roll back in her head. “Careful there. One might think you were having an orgasm.”

“I haven’t eaten in years, you barbaric ape-like alien!” she barks back at me. With a gasp, she falls from her chair, stiff and immobile. Oh. I peer over the edge of the table at her. No sympathy from me as I watch her twitch on the floor with a few random sparks.

“Looks like the prince doesn’t appreciate your insubordination.” I chuckle at that, but the sound is dry. I’m freaking out here. I’m trapped in a gilded cage with no idea how to get out. I’m just a regular ol’ human being. Nothing special about me. No secret powers. I’m not the chosen one. I’m some rando who was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Namely: Tabbi Kat’s place. It’s always the wrong place.

Zero groans as she struggles to get to her feet, slumping back into her chair with her head hanging down. The red rabbit ear antennae on her head look a bit like a giant bow. It adds to the charm of her new body, a charm that does not extend to her personality.

“My apologies, Imperial Princess.” She takes another cookie from the plate.

“Do you even need to eat?” I ask, genuinely curious. She cuts a glare my way that could melt concrete.

“This body is equipped with taste receptors that would make your inferior human mouth weep with joy at the depth and variety of flavor.” She tosses her long hair. Based on that action alone, it’d be easy to confuse who was supposed to be the princess here. “My brain is organic, and I must consume organic matter to keep it satiated.”

“You seemed just fine with solar power and no mouth before,” I quip, but my mind is not truly present in that room. It’s in the goddamn woods of a gravity-heavy planet populated by alien dragons and slavers. I have a feeling that Abraxas is just fine—physically speaking—because I also have a feeling that if he weren’t fine, the prince would’ve gloated about it.

As for what Abraxas is doing? I can only imagine. He isn’t going to simply let it go. He’s never left his planet, but would he try for my sake? Does he know who took me? He must. Maybe he can find Officer Hyt again and … do what? Didn’t that stupid Sucker Tail tell me that I wasn’t his problem? My jaw clenches.

“I’d love to hear this story at some point,” Avril pipes up, using a mirror to do her makeup. She paints her face to mimic the two-toned colors of the Vestalis. “How you were injured, how your ship went down, all of that.” She waves her hand at Zero, and I notice that the latter’s expression softens considerably.

Ouch. Maybe I am a bitch? I never really thought to sit down and ask. I was more concerned with my situation than I was with Zero’s.

“Cartian technology is quite advanced,” Zero explains as I tug my plate closer with a single finger. My robe—this pretentious but unbelievably silky red number with gold trimmed edges—drifts down my bare shoulders. Underneath, I’m wearing little more than lingerie. An entire closet full of clothing and this is what I chose: a lace teddy that’s cut so high on the hips that it looks like it belongs in the 1990s. But in a good way. The black lace reminds me of the designs on the walls and ceiling, a fine, delicate pattern that feathers across my skin. My body is now bronze-kissed in certain areas—from those stupid double suns—and white as a ghost in others. Sigh. “There were vents near my solar panels where I was able to ingest organic matter: insects, plant material, small creatures unfortunate enough to fall in.”

You know why you chose this outfit, my brain warns me. And I do. I’m going to tease and tempt that stupid moth until he gives me what I want. That is, Abraxas. I want to see Abraxas. Surely, we can work something out? He has a ship that flew into the Jungryuk atmosphere and snatched my den up like it was nothing. Couldn’t he take me back the same way?

There’s no way in hell he’s ever going to let me go. After all, without me, he’ll die. I get that. Self-preservation is a thing. But … I should at least be able to see Abraxas. To say goodbye. I can’t handle the grief that fills me, so I decide it’s best if I drown it in chocolate.

I give in and take a bite of the damn cookie. It’s more than just good: it’s orgasmic. Zero had the right idea. I moan as I slap a hand to my mouth. Happens just in time for the prince to open the door to my room and witness it.

Our eyes meet as I’m mid-moan, and it’s … I’ve been looking for you, and I’ve finally found you, but I’m in love with someone else. I turn suddenly to the side, coughing on cookie crumbs, and accepting the glass of wine that Avril shoves into my hand. I down it quickly and try to gather my dignity back together.

Jane loves insta-love in books. Adores it. I’ve always found it creepy as hell. It’s even creepier in real life. I don’t feel like I’m in control of my own emotions. I’m a puppet on a string to my desire for a man—an alien—that I don’t even know. That’s gross. It’s a mockery of love. That emotion must be earned.

I stand up and the robe falls to my elbows, leaving the majority of my body exposed.

Rurik’s wings spread behind him, filling the room with that goddamn smell. Cardamom and honey. I’m choking on it again. I can’t breathe.

“Get out.” The prince issues the command in a low whisper, but both Zero and Avril scramble to obey. The latter throws me a wink over her shoulder and a thumbs-up before disappearing into the … foyer? Antechamber? How the fuck should I know? The room out there, whatever it’s called. “Princess.”

“The name’s Eve.” I park my ass on the edge of the table and cross my naked legs. I’m wearing these gloriously fluffy slippers that I wish I could hate on principle, but absolutely love. Abraxas, our den, and a pair of these slippers. Now that would’ve been heaven on Earth. Heaven on … Jungryuk? Whatever. “You can start calling me Eve, and I’ll start calling you Rurik, and we can be gracious with one another.” I pick up another macaron—a mint green one this time—and toss him a saucy look. “Deal?”

He walks slowly into the room, dressed in a different outfit today. The last three times I’ve seen him, he’s had the same military uniform on, that fabric woven of stars. This morning, he’s sporting a buttoned jacket in bright red, black pants tucked into white boots, and white gloves. He looks shiny and pretty, like he’s dolled-up for a special occasion.

I don’t look at his eyes.

That’s when I get into serious trouble.

And to think, I felt bad for wanting to run with Abraxas while this guy slowly starved to death.

He appears in front of me and snatches my chin in his fingers, lifting my gaze up to his. I resist, but the pull is there, and when I can’t control it, it takes over. Our gazes lock, and my entire body turns into a supernova. Is that the right space term? I don’t know anything about space terms!

I’m trembling as he holds my chin and stares into my goddamn soul.

The pheromones, those can be blamed for my hard nipples, for the way I squeeze my thighs together, for the breathy sound that whispers past my parted lips. But these other feelings? This … this sense that our differences don’t matter, that the species we were born to is less important than our connection with one another, that I can’t shake. I’ve met you before. A thousand times before. A million.

I jerk my face away and slap his hand to get his gloved fingers off my chin.

I refuse to admit that I woke up with my hand pressed against the wall, that strange red lace covering my skin, holding me there. Gross. When I tore my palm away, I ripped some of them and blood dribbled down the wall only to be absorbed by yet more of the pulsing threads.

“You want some wine?” I ask, ignoring him and the effect he has on me. “How about a cookie?”

“We must have a civil discussion,” he tells me, standing far too close to me for a stranger. I want to kick him in the nuts but again, do these moth guys even have nuts? Something tells me that yes, yes they do. With this chemistry between us, this attraction, there’s no way that we’re not … compatible.

“What’s uncivil about offering you refreshments?” I move to lift the wine bottle to my lips and then set it aside. Rurik watches me with his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. I suppose I should find them creepy, solid black, twice as large as they should be. Instead, they’re a rabbit hole I keep tumbling down without meaning to.

“Is there something wrong with the wine?” he asks me, and a strange tension enters the room. I freeze where I am, seated on the table and wishing I’d been less bold and worn more clothes. His gaze moves back to my face, but I’m staring at his chest insead, at that red fur at the base of his throat. I want to touch it. Is it soft? I almost slap myself to knock the thought loose. With every second that passes here, I feel like I’m being unfaithful to Abraxas.

I have never felt lower as a human being, as a being in general.

Rurik reaches out and takes the bottle, studying the label before he lifts it to his own mouth and takes a massive swallow. I’m dumbfounded as I turn to look at him. I wasn’t aware that alien moths drank wine. It’s a strange sight, his pretty mouth around the neck of the bottle, his wings fluttering in agitation, his antennae like massive horns in his sea of white hair.

I fight the urge to put the table between us. I can deal with this through sheer force of will. I am not a basic animal with no control over my instincts and urges. That is literally what’s supposed to set humans and animals apart, isn’t it? You’ve got this, Eve.

The prince makes a face, holding the bottle aside and curling his lip in disgust.

“I understand that this liquid is a stimulant for humans, but it tastes of spoiled fruit.”

“It is spoiled fruit,” I explain, and it takes some effort on my part not to laugh. I take a bite of the cookie and discover that it’s pistachio-flavored. I’m impressed. Avril said the prince would go out of his way to get me whatever I wanted, and I guess in some aspects that’s true. Whatever I want to eat. Whatever I want to wear. But not whoever I want to see. Not whoever I want to love. Not freedom of movement or choice. “You can drink that?”

“I can consume whatever food and drink that my mate consumes,” he explains, setting the bottle aside on the table. I refuse to unpack that statement, but a joke slips out anyway. Humor is how I deal with shitty situations. Always has been. Always will be.

“Then if I were you, I wouldn’t down a whole pizza, a dozen hot wings, and a half-dozen bottles of beer. Next morning? Heartburn. All day. Sunrise to sundown.”

“You are deflecting,” he says, and I notice that his mouth actually moves to match the words coming out of it. That’s … odd. I swear that when I met him before, that wasn’t the case. Like with Abraxas, like with Hyt, I could see their mouths making their native sounds, and it was only in the translator that I heard English. Synchronicity contacts, remember? How could I have possibly forgotten the secret eye surgery I was given while unconscious. Cue expressionless face.

“Deflecting?” I scoff and grab the pitcher of water off the table, pouring myself a glass. I down it like it’s booze and then pour another. “You don’t know me.”

“I do not, but I would like to.”

That makes me laugh for real. It’s a bitter sound. Can’t help it.

“You sure have a funny way of showing that,” I tell him, staring pointedly at his chin. I try to keep my attention neutral by looking at a boring part of his body. Doesn’t work. Goddamn, that mouth. He has the mouth of a pouty pop star. How is that even fair? Some part of me feels like he’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen—save for Abraxas. “Pinning me to the floor of my own den, kidnapping me in the nude, locking me up.”

“You are not locked up. You have the freedom to go anywhere on this ship.” There’s a growl in his words, some low, grating sound of frustration that’s definitely not human. “You have not even tried.”

“I can go anywhere on this ship,” I repeat, wishing he’d move back a step or two. I decide to take the initiative, slipping past him and moving over to the wall of glass. I’m getting used to it, but I can only look at it if I pretend like it’s a planetarium or something. If I think too hard about it, I start to get dizzy again. “I can’t leave. That’s what being locked up looks like.”

“You will not be bound to this ship forever,” he snaps at me, getting way too close to my right side. There’s a venom in his words to rival Abraxas’ tail spikes. Yikes. Somebody has unresolved issues simmering beneath his courtly exterior. “You can travel the universe so long as you provide blood to me. You will only have to see me for small stints at a time, if that is what you so desire.”

“I can live with Abraxas?” I ask, turning to look at him with disbelief apparent in my face. “Seriously? You’ll let me go back to Jungryuk?”

“I …” he trails off, and I laugh again.

“Christ, you can’t even help yourself, can you?” I ask, sipping the water. I’m disappointed in him, and I can’t explain why. How can I be disappointed in a guy that I don’t know, that kidnapped me, that I don’t give two fucks about? “Stop lying to me.”

“He is not your mate. I am your bloody mate!” The prince turns and looks around, like he’s searching for something to break. He squeezes his hands into fists, making his gloves creak with the strength in them. “I should have let my soldiers kill him when he was trapped under their nets and writhing.”

I throw my water cup at the prince, and it hits the wall instead. I hear the sound of glass shattering, and that frustrating sense of vertigo sweeps over me. We’re going to be sucked into space. Ice-cold, silent darkness. My spirit will be forever trapped in the preserved shell of my body. I stumble, and Rurik catches me again, his hands at my elbow.

“The window is … did I break it …” I can’t breathe. All I can see in my head is that floating furniture. All I can think about are black holes and dying stars and things that humans maybe aren’t even supposed to know about.

I miss Earth so terribly in that moment that it rivals my longing for Abraxas.

“There is nothing you can do to break this window, my princess,” Rurik tells me, helping me into my chair. He kneels in front of me, and that expression of concern takes over his face again. His expressions are disturbingly relatable. “My poor judgment yesterday led you to incorrect conclusions. No comet struck this ship nor would it ever. My father has precise control over its movements. That section of the hallway is being tested with alternate gravity fields, that is all. It is perfectly safe.”

“I don’t know why this is happening to me,” I explain, even though I feel like I shouldn’t have to. I don’t owe this guy anything. He kidnapped me. What more do I need to know about him? He was dying, and you were going to let him die. Can he really be blamed for saving his own life? “Something about the idea of open space makes me dizzy as hell.”

“It is not an unexpected reaction for a planet-dweller.” He releases his hold on my arms which is good because my skin was starting to ache. I can quite literally feel my own blood throbbing inside my skin. When I imagine him feeding on me again—because we both know he has to do it—I get squirmy and uncomfortably hot beneath the collar. “You are not the first to have that reaction and you will not be the last.”

He rises to his feet, and I follow him up.

Unfortunately, that puts us chest-to-chest.

“I’m supposed to be your one, true mate, right?” I ask, reaching out to touch the front of his jacket. I may as well have grabbed his dick. His eyes close, his antennae sweep forward and brush across my hair, his wings spread behind him. I’m trembling as I swipe my palm down his chest, smoothing imaginary jacket wrinkles. “How can you prove that to me if Abraxas—the Aspis male—isn’t around? I should fall for you in spite of him, shouldn’t I?”

The prince pushes my hand away and turns, like he’s planning on circling me. I turn with him, and we do this bizarre dance with him in his military suit and me in my lingerie. He tugs at the fingers of his glove and then removes it, lifting his palm up to my face. I go still and allow him to touch me.

What a mistake that is.

Heat flows through me, and it’s my turn to close my eyes against the sensation. I start to bite down on my tongue again, desperate for the harsh bite of pain to knock sense into my bewitched brain. But … the last time I did that, he smelled my blood and it was game over. I don’t want him to feed from me yet. There are things I need. This is a negotiation, make no mistake.

I open my eyes.

“We can work something out, surely?” I ask before I notice that he isn’t looking at me. He’s staring at the gouge I made in the surface of the table.

“You not only count the days you have been separated from him, but you avoid the wine because you believe you might be pregnant.”

I stumble back, and he drops his arm to his side.

“Are you fucking spying on me?” I hiss, but of course he is. He controls Zero. I get the impression that she doesn’t blink without his permission. Not that … cyborgs need to blink. It’s just an expression.

“Did you not witness my blood lace?” He points his naked, claw-tipped finger to the ceiling. “I can see and feel everything that happens in these rooms.” He steps closer to me, and I back up. My ass slams into the couch and I find myself pinned there when he spreads his wings and brings them around me like a white cloak. “You cannot breathe without my intimate knowledge of your breath, of the way it skims your beautiful mouth, the softness with which it settles in your chest.” Rurik drags his knuckle down the side of my face, and I bite the inside of my cheek as hard as I can. I don’t care if I bleed.

As soon as that coppery substance coats my tongue, he’s groaning and squeezing his eyes shut again.

“So your father … he spies on this entire ship?” I ask, making the connection. Somehow, I can tell that the lace-like designs belong to Rurik, and the ugly ones belong to his dad. Can’t wait to meet the guy. Because I’m sure that’s what the plan is today. How can I be the stupid imperial princess without meeting the stupid imperial king?

“Everywhere but these rooms,” Rurik confirms, opening his eyes again. We stare at each other for what must be several minutes. He doesn’t move from his position, one hand on the sofa back on either side of me, his wings wrapped around but not touching me. “Which is why we must have a discussion. If we cannot come to an agreement, and you insist upon behaving this way outside of our chambers, we will both die.” He releases me and steps back, and I hate that I can feel slickness between my legs.

Rurik’s gaze drops to my thighs, to the bit of lace tucked between them. His antennae lift up, swiveling away from me. He can smell me. I’m sure of it. I look down at his slacks, mimicking the way he’s staring at me, and I see that there’s a significant tent in his too-tight pants.

Holy shit. Whatever he’s got down there, it’s huge. Maybe not Abraxas in his full-size form (which I definitely can’t take), but as big as he is when he’s shrunk down some. I didn’t expect that. Nice play, moth man.

We lift our gazes at the same time, and I frown.

“You’re telling me that if I don’t act the part of the princess … your dad will kill us?”

“Maybe not him.” Rurik stands up straight and fiddles with the buttons on his own uniform. For an alien moth, he sure is particular about his clothing. “But my brothers will. I have one-hundred-and-two power hungry siblings who are furious that I have found my mate before them.” He looks pointedly at me, but I don’t move. I’m afraid if I do, we might … and I would never do that to Abraxas. I would never betray him. I don’t want to betray him. “What my parents will do if you refuse me is force you into this.” He turns away and quickly tucks his hand back into his glove. “Despite what you might think, I do not want that.”

“Force me how?” I ask, and then immediately regret posing the question. “You’re saying that you’ll … rape me?” I can barely make myself speak the words. My mind drifts back to those chains on the wall at the brothel.

“If you’re so upset by it, why don’t you use your plentiful good fortune, become the Imperial Princess, and change it? You’d have that power, you know.”

Hyt’s words are impossible to ignore, the memory of them reverberating in my head. I haven’t forgotten. I’m coming into this conversation knowing that I’m going to lose in all the ways that matter. I have to make it count where I can.

“I do not want to do that,” Rurik repeats, and he sounds so unbelievably tired that I actually feel sorry for him. He stands by the table and touches his fingers to one of the macarons, like he’s never seen one before. I get the idea that he hasn’t. “But my parents will not accept anything less than our marriage.”

“Can’t we fake our way through the wedding night?” I almost laugh, but it wouldn’t be a sound of joy.

“If only such a horror could be avoided.”

I’m not sure if I have ever heard someone sound so salty about something in all my life. The prince won’t look at me now, turning away so that all I can see of him are his wings, his beautiful hair, and his antennae.

“Why do they care so much?” I need to understand exactly what’s going on here so I can figure out what to do. As it stands, I don’t know much more than ‘his penis will change shape to fit inside of you’. Thanks Avril for spewing the most important information first. “Does it matter if we fuck?”

Rurik laughs, the sound mixed with soft whispers as some of his real voice melds into the words spit out by the translator.

“It matters because they will do everything they can to avoid civil war. I cannot be left to wander around with a mate by my side who is not bonded to me while my brothers continue to flounder in their own searches. If necessary, I will be forced to mate you against your will. If I refuse, they will kill you and leave me to slowly starve to death. It is … not a pleasant way to go.”

His words make me sick with guilt. I was going to let him die like that. If he’d been an hour or two later, Abraxas and I would’ve been gone, and Rurik and I would never have seen each other again.

“How will they know?” Another question that likely has answers I don’t want to hear.

“They will know. I will have your lady-in-waiting explain the specifics. But believe me, my princess, when I tell you that there is no faking a mate bond.” He puts his hands down on a decorative table across the room, facing away from me. “I will bring you the Aspis male.”

I freeze up, unwilling to believe what I just heard. If he’s messing around with me …

“You’ll bring Abraxas here?” I say it, and I know right away that it’s wrong. Abraxas would never survive somewhere as sterile and unnatural as this. He belongs in those woods, and I couldn’t … I wouldn’t feel right taking him away from his home. I … “Let me go to him instead.”

There’s a long stretch of silence before Rurik answers.

“If you mate with me without complaint, if you participate in the wedding, if you show your best face to my parents and my people …” He pauses here, like there’s something he has to say but doesn’t want to. “If you bear my child, then I will let you keep him on this ship.”

My head rings with all of the things he’s just said.

Negotiate, Eve! This is your chance!

“Let’s break this down. If I marry you, if I ‘show my best face’, then I want to stay with Abraxas for half the year on Jungryuk.” I pause. “Half of a human year in exchange for half a year on this ship.” I almost throw up just making that bargain. The idea of living on this ship for six months at a time sounds like a hellish nightmare.

“That is not possible. I can only store so much of your blood at a time. I will need to see you at least once an Earth month. Perhaps twice.”

I grit my teeth, glaring at his back as he stands there bent over the table like he is the one suffering here. This bastard is going to be king because of me, and he has the audacity to act like it’s a chore?

“Then once a month, I’ll come back to this ship. The rest of the time, I’ll stay with Abraxas.”

Rurik’s wings spread wide, and I realize it’s his version of an angry tic, like tugging at one’s hair or yanking at the collar of one’s shirt.

“This ship travels, my princess. We will not always be so close to that horrible little planet. Either I bring the Aspis male here or you will never see him again.”

“Fine!” I scream the word, and Rurik whirls around on me, his wings fluttering like silky fabric. “Bring him here. Now.”

He grits his teeth, flashing those triple vampire fangs on either side of his mouth. He stalks toward me, so angry that he’s vibrating, I swear.

“I cannot bring him here now. I am not the king yet, princess. If my father discovers that you desire another male, that you have rejected me, your Aspis male will die. You will die. I will die. You do not seem to understand the gravity of the situation.”

I feel like crying again, but I won’t show Rurik that side of me.

“When?” I whisper, wishing my voice sounded stronger, wishing I were more sure of myself. He softens immediately, and I hate that, too. He isn’t allowed to act like that toward me. It’s confusing and weird and it makes no sense.

“After we have mated, after the wedding, after you are with child.”

I stare at him.

“You know that I might already be pregnant …” I trail off because surely these Vestalis douchebags have pregnancy tests. It’s too early to tell, Eve, duh. When I said I wasn’t ready for kids, I was serious. As serious as riding Abraxas’ mating rod over and over again? All I wanted was to claim it. Like, it was mine, but … God, I’m an idiot.

“It doesn’t matter. When I mate with you, my genetics will take over. If you are holding onto a fertilized egg, my DNA will replace that of the Aspis male’s DNA.” Rurik doesn’t sound gleeful or gloating nor does he sound regretful. Just … resigned.

I want to scream.

“No.” I move away from him, around to the other side of the couch, as if that matters. “I won’t agree to that.”

“There is no other choice, my princess. This is not something that I am able to compromise on. Not only do I have no control over the functions of my body, it is a demand of the court. I cannot take the throne until you are with child, and I cannot give you your Aspis male until I am king.”

I almost collapse, but the anger takes over.

“Why did you have to taste my blood? Why couldn’t you have just passed by that stupid tent and that stupid sign? Why did you have to come for me?” The tears fall then, but I’m gritting my teeth as they slide down my face.

“Why?” he asks, and his face breaks into something magnificent but terrifying. His eyes widen, and he yanks his gloves off, tossing them onto the floor. He strides right over to me, skirting the sofa, and then grabs me by the arms. “Do I have your consent?”

Just like yesterday.

I nod.

Rurik leans down with that jewel of a mouth, and crushes his lips to mine. My eyes widen rather than close, and I find that we’re staring into one another’s eyes as he kisses me. Something … like small threads … emerge from his tongue and wrap around mine, taking over my mouth and lips and teeth.

It’s the briefest flicker of pain before agonizing pleasure sweeps my body. I’d fall if he weren’t holding me upright.

My mind fractures as he draws back, glowing red lace stuck between our lips.

“Don’t you understand?” he breathes, almost as if he’s talking to himself and not me. “I never wanted a mate either. You have ruined my entire life.” He sinks his teeth into the side of my throat, and my eyes roll back into my head. I can feel him inside of me again, that glowing red lace of his traveling deep into my body.

The prince is upset. He’s angry. He’s frustrated. He’s so unbelievably lonely, a single soul in a vast universe. He scented me. He was full of joy and despair. He doesn’t want to be king. He does want a partner. He wants a lover. He wants a mate. He wants to touch me. He wants to eat me. He wants to fuck me.

I’m not sure if I pass out or what, but for some time there, I know the Vestalis prince better than I know myself. When I blink through the sensation, he’s laying me gently onto the couch and resting his cheek on my stomach. His entire body trembles as he reaches up and swipes blood from my chin, leaving streaks of vibrant red on his skin and mine both.

I realize in that moment how far beyond my control this situation is. I thought I had it bad back when I woke up in that market? That was freedom compared to this. I am trapped. I am never escaping this place.

“Bring him here so I can see him, so he can make a choice on whether or not he wants to stay.” My voice is a breathy whisper.

“Yes, my princess.” Rurik leaves his head on my stomach. I can’t resist reaching out and trailing my fingers along the white part of his antennae. It feels like bone. He releases a hissing gasp that I can feel against my belly, his breath warm through the lace of my lingerie.

“I want you to kick all those black market smugglers and slavers off of Jungryuk.”

There’s a long pause before he agrees to that one.

“Yes, my princess.”

Keep going, Eve, while you have some small kernel of power over him.

“Free the enslaved girls in the market brothels; free the ones trapped in the woods with the Tusk Men.”

Rurik lifts his face up to stare at me, and I get lost in his eyes all over again.

“Yes, my princess.”

I sit up on my elbows, touching my fingers to my lips where his … whatever that red lace stuff is … dug into my skin. There’s plenty of blood on my lips and cheeks and tongue, his and mine mixed together. The smell is making me dizzy again, but in a good way.

“I want to send a letter to my family on Earth.”

He stands up and shakes his head. I can’t decide if that’s something Vestalis do on their own, or if he’s learned these gestures for me.

“I cannot say yes, my princess, but if all goes well, then I will say yes, my queen.” He heads for the door, swiping his arm over his bloodied lips and groaning like he’s either halfway to the grave or halfway to the bedroom.

“I want to see Jane!” I shout at his retreating back, my own breathing an unsteady, staccato rhythm.

“I am already looking for Jane,” he promises, pausing a few feet back from the door. How the fuck does he know about Jane? Oh. Because I told him about her. Or Avril did. Or both of us. “Anything else, Your Imperial Majesty?”

Now that’s better. That sounds mocking. I can do witty repartee all day long.

“I want Connor, too.”

He doesn’t turn around, but I can see his jaw clench.

“Another mate of yours?” he grinds out, and I laugh, letting my head fall back in surrender.

This … this is my life now.

I don’t even understand how I went from being a caterer to falling in love with a dragon alien to … sitting on a chaise lounge in a black lace teddy with the taste of chocolate and blood on my lips.

“Another human that was kidnapped alongside me. I want him sent back to earth.”

“So long as he isn’t mated,” Rurik agrees readily, and my jaw clenches.

“I want that stupid fucking law changed. Why should the victims suffer because they were violated?”

I swear, I can’t see Rurik but he must smile. I can feel the change in the air. Every cell in my body is attuned to his. Just like with Abraxas.

Unlike Abraxas, this male has done nothing to endear himself to me.

“This is another occasion when I may not say yes, my princess, but I will be able to say yes, my queen.” He takes another step toward the door and it opens, revealing Avril and Zero both. “Get up and get dressed. We will go to meet my parents.”

He takes off, and I let my head fall into the pillows. I close my eyes. I put my hand over my stomach.

Part of me is relieved that I’ll get to see Abraxas again.

The rest of me is terrified that when I do see him, nothing will be the same between us.

Because I’m going to have to cheat on him. Because if I am pregnant with his child, it won’t be his anymore. Because even if I’m not, I have to have a baby for Rurik.

I roll onto my side, facing the back of the couch, put my hands to my face, and cry.

No more, Eve. Be strong. Be fucking strong.

“I had thought I was the most pitiable creature in the Noctuida,” Zero says, standing beside the couch. She reaches out and puts her hand on the top of my head. It’s almost a kind gesture. “But today, I am ever so grateful that I have never fallen in love. You look hideous when you cry.”

As if that ain’t the truth.

I dry my tears on the expensive robe, stand up, and turn to face the two women in my suite.

“Alright, let’s do this. The sooner I get this stupid wedding over with, the better.”

Because all of the things I want and need to do hinge on this goddamn union, the one I both fear and crave in equally terrifying measures.