Chapter 1

There’s a gold toilet in my prison’s en suite bathroom.

“What the …?” I don’t even have the brain space to curse properly. On the outside, I seem okay. I’m making disparaging quips about The Korol’s decor, about the outfit choices, about my cyborg bodyguard, Zero. But on the inside? I’ve gone numb. Every breath I take—every breath that he feels as I take it—makes my chest hurt.

I’m trapped on a planet-nuking spaceship without Abraxas, with a moth man who claims to be my soulmate, with a nice toilet but no freedom. Few choices. A broken heart.

“When the prince made inquiries about, um, human waste products, I took a chance to see if it’d work and … well, it worked.” Avril, my lady-in-waiting, gestures at the glittering throne—literally, it has diamonds embedded in it—and grins. “He got you a gold toilet, just like I asked. Take a quick shower. It’s a long process to get into these dresses.”

She exits through the automatic door and leaves me standing in the most ostentatious bathroom I have ever seen in my life. And believe me: I have seen some shit. My eldest sister’s husband rented the fanciest suite at the Ritz-Carlton in San Francisco for her bachelorette party. I spent a lot of time puking in that bathroom, and it was nice. This is better. This is absurd.

The bathroom has dome-like walls on two sides, revealing yet more stars and planets and some distant, painfully bright spot that must be a sun. Gross. So fucking gross. I don’t allow myself to look too hard at it. My fear of space has hit an all-time high, and just seeing it makes me dizzy.

Peeing with the cosmos in view is not my idea of a good time. There I am, naked and staring out at a shooting star while I perform the most basic, humbling human experience there is. Lovely.

“Oh, a bidet.” I take advantage of that and then start the shower. The water is not only instantaneously hot, but it has a built-in computer system with information about my med bay scan from yesterday. The water is, apparently, set to an ideal temperature for my physiology. Huh. I crank up the heat and close my eyes, fantasizing that I’m back at the hot springs with Abraxas, balancing on a floating rock and then tumbling into his arms.

The fantasy doesn’t last. It pops like a bubble and leaves me feeling ice-cold in the middle of a steaming shower. I can’t have Rurik’s child. What the hell is this place? Some throwback to Victorian England?

“Don’t worry, my lord,” I schmooze aloud, washing my hair with a honey-scented soap that makes me want to scream. I am goddamn sick of cardamom and honey both. I never, ever want to smell those scents again. I don’t want to hear those words. I certainly don’t want to use the bath bombs in the jar next to the in-floor bathtub. I haven’t turned it on yet, but I think it’s like an infinity pool sort of deal where the water flows between the edge of the basin and the glass wall. “I’ll produce an heir for you. Couldn’t possibly continue our great dynasty without the assistance of breeding chattel.”

The red vein shit—I think Rurik called it blood lace—pulses strangely, as if the prince finds me amusing. I know he can see me. I’m sure that he’s perving on me. If so, I’m going to put on a show. I lather up my breasts, sneak a washcloth between my thighs, drag my teeth lasciviously over my lip. You like that, Princey? I’ll bet he does.

I turn the shower off and grab a fluffy towel, drying myself and then slipping into another fancy robe.

What if … what if the Vestalis lay eggs? Like, what if I have to lay eggs? Even worse: what if the baby is a caterpillar? I could give birth to a caterpillar!

I shut that thought down. I’m already at my maximum limit for stress and shitty revelations. I just … I need a second to pretend that everything is going to be okay.

“Whoa.” I’ve just stepped out of the bathroom to find Avril and Zero waiting with my dress.

I want to hate it, but … I don’t.

“Beautiful, right?” Avril agrees, smoothing her hand over the skirts. The dress itself is a pristine white ball gown, reminiscent of a wedding dress. It has a red lace overlay that reminds me yet again of Rurik’s blood lace on the walls and ceiling. It’s paired with a red metallic corset that goes over the top, one that shimmers like it’s been painted with crushed rubies. A heavy white, hooded cloak with black designs hangs on the mannequin. Best part? The shoes are practical: a pair of red boots. The only thing I don’t like is the massive expanse of the skirts. Too much fluff and flounce for my taste. “And this is just your casual wear. Wait until you see what the prince has in store for the wedding.”

My stomach sours, and the expression on my face drops.

I wish I were naked and lounging on a pile of furs with Abraxas. I almost had a completely different life, didn’t I? I was right fucking there. Somehow, all of this stuff around me—the gold toilet and the endless hot water in the shower and the beautiful dress—it becomes hideous. I don’t want any of it.

Except for maybe the macarons.

Zero walks by with another plate of them, and I snatch one up. It glitters which is a little weird, but I eat it anyway, and it tastes like freshly fallen snow and childhood dreams. Kid you not. God, I hate it here.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” I grumble through a bite of cookie as I drop my robe and Avril offers me my undergarments. When I say undergarments, what I mean is a pair of slutty, lacy panties. My mouth purses, and I shove the remainder of the cookie in before I say something I might regret. “Avril.”

She pretends not to notice that my attention is on the underwear in my hand.

“You should hurry and slip those on, so we can get going.” She fusses with the gown as I creep closer to her and lean in so that she has no choice but to look at me. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because for an entire Earth month, you’ve been helping the prince prepare for my arrival. He doesn’t know humans like toilets or hot showers or canopy beds or red wine. He also wouldn’t think to purchase lace teddies and thongs. Someone suggested it to him. Someone seems to ship Eve and Rurik. Someone is not going to see that ship sail.”

Avril spins to face me, her own lips pursed, a look of true apology in her sapphire eyes.

“Listen, Eve.” She reaches out and puts her hands on my upper arms. It’s a little awkward to have a conversation since I’m buck naked, but it is what it is. “I’m sorry, but I really do need to make sure that you and Rurik work out. You know why? Because if you don’t, I’m going to be executed alongside you. The royal servants are considered an extension of their masters. You die, I die. And if you don’t get with Rurik, we all die.”

“You have an unfortunate body shape,” Zero remarks, and I literally just close my eyes and wait. Sure enough, she ends up on the floor with a mechanical malfunction, shooting sparks. I open my eyes and look back without sympathy, macarons scattered across the floor around her.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could ya?” I ask, and then I turn back to Avril. “Nice deflection technique by the way. I notice you didn’t once deny the accusation that you were the one who encouraged the prince to purchase my underwear from Fredericks of Hollywood.”

“Actually, there’s an entire team of tailors on staff to assist you and the prince. I just made some sketches, handed them over, and voilà.” She shrugs and then removes the metal corset from the mannequin, setting it aside so that she can take the dress down.

“You designed all of this?” I ask, looking back at the dress and the shoes and the cloak. “It’s beautiful.” If I sound like I’m in awe, it’s because I am. This gown might be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

Avril smirks at me as she helps me into the dress.

“Only the lingerie and some of the loungewear.” She puts her mouth way too close to my ear to whisper this next part. “It was the prince who designed the rest.”

He’s waiting for me when I step into the foyer. Antechamber? I’ve been over and over this in my head, and I realize that I don’t know shit about architecture or layouts. What I do know is that since arriving in this bedroom yesterday, I haven’t left.

The thought of venturing out of this private area is daunting.

Rurik turns around to look at me. Our eyes meet again. My lips throb where his blood lace entered me, and my neck aches for his mouth. It’s a physical pain, the strange want of his tongue. I fist my hands in the skirts of the dress to keep them still.

His red-stained lips are slightly parted, wicked teeth on display, those demon eyes peering into my soul. His wings ruffle and his antennae swivel purposefully away from me as he turns his head. I notice that his chest expands and contracts with visible effort. He can smell me as much as I can smell him, can’t he?

The thought makes me smirk, but then … “You exude pheromones; they work well on me.”

Abraxas.

Shit.

“Does it matter that I fucking hate you?” I ask Rurik, and Avril chokes on a gasp behind me. Zero doesn’t react which is probably a good thing. The way the prince’s shoulders tense …

“No.” He lies right to my face, turning to meet my eyes again.

“You want me to like you, don’t you?” I prod, unable to resist taunting him.

“Nothing would please me more.” He says it so dryly, but I know it’s true. Unfortunately, this unexpected blurt of honesty makes harassing him way less fun. “My princess.” He holds out his arm, and I stare at it. “Best face forward if you wish to see your Aspis male.” He sneers those last two words at me.

I step forward and accept his arm, and off we go.

The door opens automatically for us, releasing the four of us into the hallway before it closes. I notice the disgusting growths on the wall right away, and find myself immensely relieved that Rurik’s don’t look like that. They’re so … eerie and unpleasant.

“We will head straight to the throne room,” he says, and if he were human, I imagine he’d reach up just now and start tugging at the collar of his jacket. Those pitch-dark eyes of his drop to my face, and I hurriedly look away. Not interested in being starstruck right now. “On this ship, that room serves multiple purposes: it is the court of our country, the control room for this vessel, and it is also my parents’ personal bedroom. Please keep all of these things in mind while we are there.”

“Their bedroom?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Avril and Zero. Are they going to follow me around all the time? Like everyday, all day? I’m somebody who can appreciate a moment of solitude if you know what I mean. “Why would it be their bedroom?”

I turn back to Rurik, but I make sure to focus on his mouth and not his depthful gaze. He opens it, but no words come out. Instead, he smiles and inclines his chin. I turn to see another Vestalis man striding toward us. This guy? He’s not nearly as charming as the prince. The black markings on his face aren’t like Rurik’s sharp, sleek ‘V’ between the eyes. They look a bit like a unibrow. That, and he’s got another patch on his chin that Rurik doesn’t have, like a goatee. Personally, I find him to be … ugly.

Could also be because he’s scowling viciously at me in particular.

“Ah, My Imperial Princess.” The prince turns to me and holds out a gloved hand to indicate the man in front of us. “I’d like you to meet my favorite brother, Brot.”

“Nice to—” I start, unsure of the proper way to greet another Vestalis. Doesn’t seem to matter here. Seems like a lot of emphasis is placed on the female mates instead. I figure a good ol’ fashioned American greeting will be just fine. Brot interrupts my polite hello and outstretched hand with a sneer.

“I should’ve assumed you would find an ugly, useless mate. Only the timing was right.” Brot scoffs and straightens out his black jacket. Rurik stiffens, and his lips part on words I don’t let him say.

“Fuck you, you ugly bastard,” I blurt, raising my chin and reminding myself of what Avril told me this morning. These moth dudes love hierarchy and authority, and they’re very strict about it. The king is on top, the queen is just below him, then the prince, then … me. I might not want to be here, but I’ll be damned if I don’t use that power to protect myself.

“How dare you!” Brot rears back and spreads his off-white wings behind him. His mouth is more of a thin gray-pink as opposed to Rurik’s luscious powder pink lips. It’s quite clear to me who’s the more attractive of the two. “I am an Imperial Prince!”

“And I’m the Imperial Princess!” I shout back at him. If he can raise his voice, then so can I. “Get wrecked, you salty sore loser son of a bitch.”

Brot’s eyes widen to comically large proportions. Since they’re already about twice as large as human eyes, it’s extra funny to me. I bite back a snort, but Rurik isn’t so lucky. He turns his head and feigns a cough, covering his mouth with his hand.

Brot and I stare one another down, and I understand implicitly now what the prince was talking about. I see nothing but murder in this man’s black eyes. Doesn’t last. He’s not dominant enough to handle me. Or not stupid enough to challenge his people’s hierarchical rules.

“My apologies, Imperial Princess.” Brot sweeps rudely past us, taking off down the hallway as I sigh with relief.

“Are all of your brothers so unpleasant?” I turn to Rurik, wondering how bad the rest of his siblings might be if that guy is his favorite brother.

“Some are worse,” he replies, turning to me. He can’t seem to fight back the expression of pleasure on his face.

“I didn’t do that for you.” I make sure that he knows that. “I was defending myself.”

“Yes, my princess.”

I look down at the runner on the floor.

“I didn’t … that wasn’t crossing any boundaries, was it? Like, I didn’t just fuck up royally did I?” Fear rushes through me in an icy wave. What if I just fucked up my chances of seeing Abraxas by retaliating like that? Ugh. Me and my big mouth.

“You are the Imperial Princess,” Rurik reassures me as we continue down the hallway. It looks exactly the same as the hallway from yesterday with one incredible improvement: there are no windows. Instead, there are paintings. Most of them are landscapes, but not the sort of landscapes you might see on Earth. Strange, fantastical colors and designs grace the artwork. “You were well within your rights.”

“Good to know.”

A short time later, we come across another Vestalis. He’s not as ugly as Brot (he’ll be a hard one to beat), but he’s plain enough that I doubt I’d recognize him again later.

“Imperial Princess, I’d like you to meet my favorite brother, Yvat.” Rurik introduces him with a flourish of his hand. His brother bows but doesn’t meet my gaze, staring blankly at the floor.

“It is my greatest pleasure and infinite privilege to make your acquaintance, Imperial Princess.” He drops to his knee, touches a finger to his lips, and draws a bead of blood. When he rises to his feet, he takes off like the hallway’s on fire.

Huh.

By the third brother, I’m starting to see a pattern.

“My mate, I would be remiss not to introduce you to Veda, my most favorite of all my brothers.”

I barely pay attention to the guy, waiting for him to leave before I turn to Rurik with a raised brow. Our eyes meet again, and I have to swallow past my sudden and inexplicable love for him. It’s so goddamn gross. If I could will it away, I would, but it doesn’t appear I have any control over it.

“I see now. So they’re all your favorite brothers, eh?”

Rurik’s lips twitch into a beautiful smile, and I remind myself to ask about that, about why he appears so incredibly human in his expressions.

“Only when they’re alone,” he explains, and unbidden laughter bursts out of me. I slap my hand over my mouth. No. Fuck this guy. I hate him. I almost wish Abraxas had eaten him that day in the market, when the two of them came face-to-face at the brothel.

The next time we encounter one of his brothers, the greeting changes.

“Imperial Princess, this is my least favorite brother, Lyubim.” Rurik and his brother bow at one another before his brother drops to his knee and offers me what I’m guessing is a fairly standard greeting.

“It is my greatest pleasure and infinite privilege to meet my little brother’s mate.” He stands back up, and I see that his face is nearly all black. The only white to be seen is on his mouth. His lips are as white as snow.

“You must be his real favorite brother then?” I ask, and Lyubim laughs. It’s not quite as human as Rurik’s laugh, but still fairly convincing. Huh.

“That I do not know, but it has always been a wish of mine.”

“Lyubim is the only one my brothers that I trust,” Rurik tells me, and I’m immediately on guard. This could be, like, really bad foreshadowing or something. I’ll have to keep an eye on this dude. Someone as blatant as Brot probably isn’t a threat. It’s either the quiet ones—like Yvat or Veda—or the one with the kind eyes.

“Well, I don’t trust him. Just so you know. I’ll be keeping my eyes on you.”

Lyubim seems to find that statement hilarious, inclining his head at me.

“I will have to earn your trust then, Imperial Princess.” He gives Rurik a look. “You have found yourself a very interesting mate. I look forward to seeing the kingdom you build together.”

Rurik returns his brother’s words with a smile, one that doesn’t last. As soon as Lyubim is out of sight, he frowns. I notice the exact second that his gaze lands on those thick veins creeping up the walls. He shakes himself out and reaches up to run a hand over the fur at his throat.

“That’s real, isn’t it?” I’m secretly wondering what the prince looks like naked. Just out of simple curiosity. Liar. I tamp down on those pesky hormones. “The red fur?”

The prince turns to me, and our eyes meet again. It’s like we’re magnetized to one another. It’s annoying as fuck. We stop walking and he turns so that he’s facing me.

“Would you like to touch it?” he asks, and … God help me, but I do.

I should, seeing as I’m going to have to sleep with this guy. The thought makes me sick. I am not a cheater. My ex, Mack, he was a cheater. I shake my hands out and exhale, fighting back another urge of helplessness. I’ve been fighting that feeling from the very beginning. Abraxas … I won’t blame him if he doesn’t want me after this.

I lift my fingers, hovering them over that brilliant red fur. It looks like the clasp of a white cloak. Only, it’s not. When I stand on my tiptoes and peer more closely at it, I can see that it’s connected to his throat. My lip tucks under my teeth, and I reach a tentative finger—

Somebody trips me from behind, sending me flying into the prince’s arms.

“Oh, My Imperial Princess, I’m so sorry!”

I am going to kill Avril later. Mark my words.

I wind up with my body pressed to his, Rurik’s arms and wings both wrapped around me. My hands are now buried in that fur, and it’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Absently, I stroke my fingers over it and he shudders like I’ve just licked the tip of his dick. A whispering sigh falls from his lips, and the sound is oddly soothing to me.

“What is it?” I ask him. I’m already here, so I may as well satisfy that itching curiosity.

“It serves to keep the throat warm,” he explains, pausing briefly before locking our gazes and adding an unnecessary bit of information. “We also believe that sexual selection plays a strong role. Many females find our neck adornments attractive.”

I dig my fingers into it, and he swallows hard, hands tightening on my elbows. Rurik’s arms wrap my waist, and he lowers his head, putting his mouth right up against mine. I might have to fuck the guy to survive, but I don’t have to kiss him. Which I already did once this morning. What is wrong with me? My lips tingle as he closes the space between us, and I find myself fantasizing about that … that blood lace stuff … digging into my tongue, my throat, grabbing onto my heart.

“I’m so shy, Rurik,” I grit out between clenched teeth, slapping at him playfully. “Not in the hallway where everyone can see.”

I almost gag on the sickly sweet coo of my own voice. Shit, I’m overacting! Was that too much? It was too much, huh? Typical Eve. Swing from being a bitch to being a baby-talking goo-goo doll. But I can’t outright reject him when others could be watching. Definitely won’t be winning any awards for that performance though.

“My apologies, my princess.” Rurik releases me and offers his arm again.

I think about the least sexy things I can while we walk. Mothballs (hah!). Tapioca pudding. Bong water. Stale beer breath. Waterparks with pee in the pools. It helps quench the fire between my thighs, but it doesn’t get rid of it entirely.

We head down a beautiful spiral staircase, my dress trailing behind me. On the prince’s left, there’s another stupid glass wall showcasing the stars. I get the idea that maybe these windows are luxury items. Like, there’s no way that most of the rooms on this ship have a view. Aren’t we lucky?

“If you feel dizzy, just hold onto me,” he whispers, and I hate that he’s likable. Rude sometimes. Abrupt. But likable. It’s annoying. It’d be easier to feel animosity toward him if he were as vile as his brother, Brot.

I haven’t seen guards this entire time, but they reappear at the bottom of the stairs, guarding a pair of massive doors. They’re at least three stories high. I crane my head back to stare up at them, mouth gaping open. The entire surface is webbed in pulsing veins. They’re big and thick and creepy as hell.

“This is the antechamber,” Rurik tells me as the doors open outward. He turns a severe look over his shoulder. “You two are to wait outside unless summoned. Do you understand? You do not ever enter the king’s antechamber or throne room without express permission.”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” Both Avril and Zero answer at the same time, bending horizontally at the waist. Rurik sniffs and turns back to face the lavishly appointed room ahead of us.

If it weren’t for the space window wall and the blood lace, I’d like it. A red chandelier hangs from the center of the room, dripping with crystals, and the floor is patterned with a pair of massive moth wings, each of them decorated with more of that lace-like pattern that more closely resembles Rurik’s style than his father’s.

“May the Stars guide us.” Rurik tilts his head back, closing his eyes briefly. I swallow a strange lump in my throat. It feels like … guilt. Just as I did with Abraxas, I feel like I screwed up this guy’s life by being the wrong mate. How stupid is that? I might’ve made the choice with Abraxas, but I did not choose to be here.

The prince strides forward at a rapid clip, and I struggle to keep up, nearly tripping on my skirts.

A round door in the wall rolls to the side revealing …

I stop walking and then it’s his turn to trip. Rurik catches himself quickly, still managing to hold onto my arm as he looks back at me in silent pleading. Walk, his eyes scream, but I’m rooted to the spot.

The room in front of us is a huge dome, dark and damp and covered in blood lace. It’s everywhere. And it’s meaty. And there’s a gigantic fucking moth dude sitting on a throne. He looks like he’s tied to the throne by his own blood lace. Also … also … also …

I have the good grace not to scream.

I want to. Believe me. I am freaked all the fucking way out.

There’s a huge centipede or millipede or— Oh, it’s definitely a millipede. It has all of the legs. All of them. Too many. Dizziness sweeps me, and I cling onto Rurik for dear life.

“My daughter-in-law!” the creature trills, and even if it’s the shiny pearly rainbow color of a unicorn horn, it looks like something out of a sci-fi horror film. I’m getting flashbacks to my dad’s favorite movie of all time: Starship Troopers. What’s the famous quote from that movie? The only good bug is a dead bug?

Fuck! Oh God no. Anything but this. I’ll take on another female Aspis. I just … I cannot deal with this. I scream inside my head because I can’t scream out loud. Once again, I prove to myself that I do, in fact, have pretty good survival instincts. I snatch onto Rurik and practically bury myself in his side. He puts his arm around my waist as the thing—oh crap, it’s my literal mother-in-law!—slithers toward us.

Her body twists around the pair of us in a coil, and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that blood rushes into my mouth. I’m practically choking on it, and I can feel the way Rurik reacts to that. The millipede alien monster gives us a hug before retreating back into the nightmare of a room.

Another pop culture reference hits me and strikes. My brother Nate is super into these Little Nightmares games. The second one in particular gave me nightmares for a month. There are a lot of flickering TVs, and mind-shatteringly disgusting creatures in it. This is that. This is a level on that fucked-up game.

I see a whole wall of screens intertwined with blood lace, flickering through various images. It paints the massive man on the throne in dim white light as he leans forward to peer through the doorway at me. He does not get up, and I wonder … if he’s actually able to get up at all? He’s tethered to that chair with bloody, meaty growths.

What the hell is this? I wonder as Rurik gently encourages me to step into the room. The door slides shut behind us, and I jump. Both of the massive creatures laugh. The translator makes it sound like a laugh anyway, but I see spiked mouthparts quivering on the millipede, and feelers swiveling on the head of the man that must be the king.

These … these are Rurik’s parents? I don’t understand. How?

The urge to flee is so strong that I don’t even care if I’m being rude. I have to close my eyes to regroup. I’m panicking here. I can feel Rurik moving beside me, and then his mouth is on mine. Those strange threads of his—the blood lace—travel from his tongue into mine, capturing my mouth, diving into my flesh and blood. His thoughts fill my brain, pushing some of that primal fear back.

He will always keep his mate safe. He didn’t want me, but I’m here now. He will take responsibility for licking my blood. His parents have always loved him. He is afraid of them, too, but not like I am. If we do as they ask, they will not retaliate.

I crack my eyes to see that his are open, too. We’re kissing in an alien monster den and staring at one another. And I don’t hate it. I … don’t. Rurik draws back from me, leaving the faintest whisper of wet lace on my tongue and teeth and lips. I reach my hand up to wipe it away, staining my skin with a blush of blood.

“Thanks.” The word falls relatively flat in the empty space as Rurik leads me further into the … throne room? It looks like a creepy monster den, a horrific Lovecraftian sci-fi nightmare. Heh. “It’s a pleasure and a privilege to meet you both.”

I drop to one knee, my skirts pooling around me. Mostly, I am this close to having a panic attack and my knees feel weak. I touch my bloodied lips with a single finger.

“Ah! Your mate is quite quick to adopt Vestalis propriety.” The big man laughs, and my translator picks it up as jolly giant laughter. That helps a little. When Rurik offers out a hand, I take it and climb back to my feet. The king leans down to stare at me, and one of his eyes is about half the size of my head.

I force my quivering lips to smile.

“What a beautiful mate, my son,” his mother trills, her mouthparts vibrating. I can’t look away from her round head and oversized, fractured eyes. They’re as shiny as an oil slick, and they dance with all of the same colors. I have the sense that were I not mated to her son, that she would eat me. I am so sick of being prey, I think, but what can a soft-skinned human girl do? She gets right up in my face, and then curls around me, offering another hug. Could just be my imagination, but it feels like this squeeze is just a tad tighter than it should be. I grunt as she curls around me and peers into my face. I have the sense that she wants to say something, but won’t do it in front of Rurik.

What if she summons me here by myself?! The thought’s almost too much for me to handle. I want Abraxas here. Now. He could eat both the king and queen, and still have room left for dessert. Although, that’s probably not true, is it? It’d be a bloody battle to the final breath.

The queen uncurls from around me and slithers back to the king, her tiny legs skittering over the floor. Each is adorned with a metal band of some sort and sparkles with gemstones. I notice that she has a pattern on her back, one that mimics the bizarre and seemingly random designs of the king’s blood lace. It pulses in time with the veins on the walls.

I want to go home. I don’t care if they have gold toilets and infinity bathtubs here. This is the most alien thing I have ever seen, and I don’t like it. I hate it. I don’t like Rurik’s parents—especially his mother.

I don’t have to hear it to know that it’s true: she doesn’t like me either.

“You must be quite proud,” his father continues, smiling beatifically at me. I can’t help but wonder why he’s so goddamn huge. Will Rurik grow to be this big, too? If so, what does that all mean for me? I look around and I try to imagine living my life here. It’s an endlessly disturbing thought. “Being mated to the prince means that you will soon become queen of the entire Noctuida.”

“Surely, I am the one who is proud,” Rurik interjects, taking my arm again. “My mate survived an abduction. She survived the wilds of Jungryuk.” He smiles prettily, and I’m struck yet again by the fact that these hideous things are his parents. “She reprimanded Brot in the halls just now.” Rurik’s smile flickers at the edges. “Though I am certain you already knew that.”

His parents both seem to find that hilarious, each of them vibrating with their own version of laughter. The translator does its best, but … apples to oranges. One of these things is not like the other. I fist my free hand in the lace-covered skirt and keep my arm firmly wedged with the prince’s.

“Are you sure we cannot begin the wedding tomorrow?” the queen asks, looking to Rurik and not me. It’s as if I don’t even exist. “The people are restless to cement you as the heir. Your brothers grumble and bicker. They are entertaining females day and night in a hope to supersede you.”

“We will wait.” Rurik speaks up before I can even process her words. “Four days you have given us, and four days we must take.”

Four days. Four fucking days.

“Of course, son.” The king reaches out with a massive hand and uses his thumb to touch the side of my face. “Rest, daughter-in-law. We will see you both at the mating ceremony.” His smile seems genuine enough. But the queen? I can’t bring myself to look her way again. “We will have plenty of time to get to know each other. After all, we are family now.”

“Family,” I whisper.

I see my mom in the kitchen of our family home, watching a shitty Lifetime movie on her iPad while my father secretly reads pirate-themed romance novels on his phone. My little brother Nate pads out to grab a snack from the cabinet, and my mom swats his hand with a spatula like a 1950s housewife with a temper.

I wait until we’re back in the prince’s private rooms to have a fit.

As soon as the door to our suite closes, I jerk away from Rurik and shove the heel of my hand into my chest. I’m hyperventilating as I struggle to catch my breath.

“Eve,” Avril begins, but I slap her hand away when she tries to touch me. I whirl on her, face flushing with anger. She looks surprised, taking a step back, like she might actually be afraid of me.

“You might’ve told me that my fucking mother-in-law was a galactic millipede!” I scream, voice echoing around the antechamber. Rurik doesn’t seem to know what to do, narrowing his eyes on me as his antennae clap together behind his head, like a pair of swiveling rabbit ears. He’s adorable, I admit it. He’s attractive and male and regal, but what the hell is wrong with his parents?!

“I—” Avril begins as I step up to her, grabbing her by the front of her dress.

“It’s your job to explain these things to me,” I grind out, tears of frustration pricking my eyes. “Not because you’re a lady-in-waiting, but because you are human.”

Zero opens her mouth, but I toss such a nasty look her way that she actually reconsiders.

“My princess,” Rurik begins, but I am done for the day.

“Bring me something to eat and leave me the fuck alone.” I step into my bedroom, frustrated that I can’t slam the door behind me. It just closes on its own, and I miss my life on Earth so much that I actually feel sick. Or … maybe I just feel sick in general?

I barely make it to the toilet before I’m throwing up.

It’s too early to have anything to do with a possible pregnancy. I’m sure it’s just nerves.

Part of me feels bad for Rurik, but the rest of me … I cannot stay here. I can’t. I need to do what I need to do in order to get Abraxas, and then we have to leave this place. I don’t care how we do it, but we’re breaking out of here, and we’re running until the prince is dead and the Vestalis no longer have an interest in me.

I tell myself that’s possible, that I can pull all that off. The bold part of me truly believes I could, that I can finagle some clever way to escape. The rest of me knows that I would never be able to let Rurik go. Not those beautiful eyes. Not the pain of his teeth in my neck. Not the lace of his blood in my veins.

I end up falling asleep on the bathroom floor. When Rurik arrives to pick me up, tucking me carefully into my bed, I pretend not to wake back up.

He leaves the room, and I wake the next morning with my palm pressed to the wall, a fine web of red lace teasing over my skin.