Chapter 11

There’s a warm chest under my cheek, and I nuzzle into it, enjoying the feel of a strong arm wrapped around my middle. I love the sensation so much that I decide I don’t want to lose it, forcing myself to stay still and ride those first strange, sweet moments of being awake.

I got married yesterday. By having sex in public.

That snaps my eyes open, and I sit up to find that Rurik is already staring at me.

How long has this been going on?

I tuck some hair behind my ears and then cross my arms over my chest to cover my nipples. Rurik notices, looks down at them, looks back up at my face. I can’t resist staring back at him.

“Hi.” It’s my go-to word when nothing else feels like it will suffice. This awkwardness makes the morning after with Abraxas seem like a breeze. Sure, I fucked my first alien and got a glowing vagina, but this guy is like my fated mate. Who I rejected. I rejected him. Not saying this is more important, only that it’s weirder. Abraxas doesn’t let things get weird between us.

“Hello, my princess.” Rurik is frowning now, shifting his gaze from mine, like he’s worried I’m going to reject him all over again.

The room falls silent.

Someone rings the doorbell to the honeymoon suite, but we both ignore it.

I glance around, realizing that the entire room is bathed in what looks like beautiful morning light. It kisses everything with a pale honey color, accentuating the tastefulness of the decor. Homey amber-colored brocade, luxe chocolate browns, and the red of my blood on Rurik’s lips. The matching color of his alien cum on my thighs—

Nope.

I shut that thought down and look behind the bed to find some sort of weird cover on the windows, diffusing the light of … something just outside. It’s like a sun or … a star? Is a sun a star? Either way, we’re getting a bit close to it for my liking.

The star-jump thing cannot be real. It can’t. I refuse to believe it.

The doorbell rings again.

“I will put her in a transport, and then I will drop that transport on a planet made entirely of ice.” Rurik sighs and rubs at his forehead with clawed fingers. Ah, Avril. Probably here to gloat about the Rurik/Eve ship officially spreading its sails. “What is it?” he snaps, and I just assume there’s some way for Avril to hear him if he wants her to. “Yes, fine. Now leave.”

“How are you communicating with her?” I ask, watching him recline on his elbows, chest and stomach exposed, wings pooled beneath us both, a feeler swinging in my direction. It slides over my hair, and I flush, pushing it away from me. He turns to look at me and cocks his head, like he doesn’t know what I’m doing.

“Through the lace,” he says simply, lifting a hand, palm up to indicate all of his beautiful patterns on the ceiling. I can barely stand looking at it. It’s elegant and canopied and Gothic and lovely. “My parents wish to see us again, which is quite expected.” He sounds put out by the way. Put out and … softly furious. “But they can wait.”

Silence.

He’s still staring at me.

“What?” I make myself look back at him, like everything is perfectly normal. It felt that way last night, but some of the pheromones in the air have cleared, and while I’m still glad it happened, I … My eyes widen. “Can I see your wings?”

Rurik gently slides his right wing out from under my body before turning and putting his feet on the floor—obviously still naked. With his back to me, he spreads his wings slowly, as if he’s putting on a show. My hands lift to my mouth as I see the pattern there. Red ink spills across the vast surface, a swath of fine threads over a stark white canvas. Does my own back …?

I get up off the bed and find a mirror on the armoire, ignoring my nakedness—mostly ignoring the way Rurik looks at my nakedness—and turning my back to it. When I glance over my shoulder, I can see my reflection.

There.

Like I’m wearing that lace teddy again. Only, the lace is etched into my skin in the shape of moth wings. It really is like a tattoo, and it stretches from the back of my neck to just above my ass cheeks. Glowing vagina. Permanent slutty lingerie. I am an alien smut slut.

I immediately recall using that line before on myself and thinking it had the acronym of A.S.S.

Iam an A.S.S.

I fucked guy number two and now I’m perma-mate-bonded to two different alien races that don’t particularly get along. I can’t leave Rurik or he’ll die. I can’t leave Abraxas because, apparently, we’ll both die (maybe). And if we die, Rurik dies. Which means … Rurik’s life is dependent on Abraxas.

Intergalactic soap opera alien drama.

I groan and rub at my face for a second. I’m a bit sore, and I’d like it if Rurik weren’t staring at me the way he is, like he thinks I’m going to run. He knows that I’m not going to.

“Stop that, and pay attention to what I’m actually thinking,” I grumble, wondering if this is a common thing for Vestalis newlyweds. He can sense my emotions. I can sense his. I know he wants to touch me, but is afraid he’ll fuck all day the way he fucked all night. He knows I need a break, but he doesn’t want to give me one because then we’ll go to see his mother and she’s likely frighten us both off of a good, long fuck—

I shake my head.

He sighs and then holds out a hand, waiting to see if I’ll take it.

He knows I’m reluctant to do it. I’m nervous. He smiles. He tucks his antennae back. He waits.

He smirks.

Then I go to him and we end up reclined on the bed beside one another, just absorbing our new bond.

“I am truly in shock,” he admits, and I rustle slightly, rolling onto my side to stare at his cock. It’s hard, and it’s impossible not to look at. It’s massive, red and white striped with the claspers swirled around it, a sharp black thorn at the tip.

It looks sticky.

I want to touch it.

My hand extends, and Rurik catches my wrist—hard.

“I am in shock that you agreed to the mating, even knowing all of the things that you did.”

“I don’t think you’d have let me do it without telling me first.” I’m talking about the permanence of it. The deal with the eggs—even fertilized ones. The back tattoo. The eyes of his parents. Everything. I still chose to do this. We both know he’d have helped me run off with Officer Hyt if that’s what I’d wanted. He’d have done everything in his power to keep his parents away from me.

Even kill himself to see if they might back off then. After all, if he died, I could leave. Without me, he will literally die. But it doesn’t work the other way around. I mean, not on a purely biological level. But I think if he died, I wouldn’t … I don’t know if I could …

I exhale.

“You’d let me run away even now, wouldn’t you?” I ask. He doesn’t have to answer: I can feel it. His thoughts fill me in an intimate rush.

If you want to run, I’ll figure something out. I will. I’ll give you a few weeks to be sure, and then I’ll end it. If I am gone, my parents may not waste resources coming after you. It is your best and only real choice to flee.

He would do that for me, but I would never let him.

A lovers’ paradox.

That makes me smile.

“Can you roll onto your stomach?” I’m not half done with the sentence before I replace my sweet smile with a sly grin. “I want to see something.”

Rurik knows immediately what I’m talking about and makes a strange sound, something between a man’s low chuckle and a monster’s toothy whisper.

“Princess.” It’s a warning that I ignore.

He gets on his stomach as I asked, body tense and muscles in sharp relief. Carefully, I take hold of his wings and I spread them open myself, just the way I want them. They drape the mattress on either side of his body, and I wince as I dig my knee into one of them.

“Does that hurt you?” I try to push his wings open wider, but he won’t let me, tucking them close, encouraging me to put my bodyweight on them.

“Not at all. I prefer as much of you to touch as much of me as possible.”

Ah.

I spot that patch of red at the base of his spine again. My fingers itch to touch that spot, so I do, gliding fingertips across the roughness of his skin there. My lip catches under my teeth, and then I’m straddling his naked cheeks.

Perfect, taut cheeks, but with a layer of padding for shape. White as marble. All mine.

I grin wider, rub my pussy against his ass, and then he really makes a snarling sound at me.

“You need to rest and eat something,” he snaps. I ignore that, too. I stroke and pet and rub the coremata, and then I watch as they unfold. So slowly that it feels like it isn’t happening at all, but quick enough that within a minute, all four tendrils are fleshed out and softened with red hairs. They seem to be … eversible? Is that the word? Like, they were inside out and they just unfolded from his skin, got erect and swollen like a cock. Dripped pheromones.

I press my naked body along the back of his, trapping two of his coremata between us. He starts to thrust, and his claspers dig hard into the bed, shredding the fabric.

“That’s my king,” I murmur against the side of his neck, sitting up and rubbing my wet cunt against his ass, whipping my already swollen body into a frenzy. My hands find my breasts, my knees dig into his wings, and my hair tickles my naked back as I stare up at the lacy ceiling then down at him again. His patterns are sexy to me. I’m seeing lace and it’s enough to get me all hot and bothered. Why? Because he’s got some scalloped shapes? Crisscrossed diamonds? Floral themes?

It’s his finesse. He makes literal arteries into delicate art. His father can’t even manage to control his abilities enough to keep his growths small. Rurik’s are unimposing, nuanced, and blended with the decor. His dad’s look like something out of a horror movie.

“You’re going to be a wonderful king,” I breathe, prideful of him and briefly forgetting my theory about that scary ass throne room.

“A better lover,” he promises, rolling over and catching me by surprise. He drags me down to the mattress, mounts me, and makes me scream. Doesn’t matter now. We’re all alone in this room.

When Rurik and I are finished, he’s able to roll right off of me. We, apparently, only get stuck together once. Not like— Yeah. Eventually we’ll need to have the Abraxas conversation. Now that I’m thinking back on his words inside the cruiser, I wonder if Abraxas already knew that he’d have to share me from that point forward? Question is: does Rurik understand that? He says he does, but … who knows?

The doorbell rings again.

“I hate Avril,” I whisper, and he laughs at me. The sound is satisfied and happy and unburdened. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Rurik like that. Except … I’ve only known him for maybe an Earth month? When I say ‘known’, I’m literally talking about our first meeting under the Humans … pets, meat, or mates sign. About our brief encounter after I drove the Cartian motorcycle to the market. Weeks of nothing. A kidnapping. A wedding.

“I shall send her as an ambassador to a hostile planet, a place where the creatures are more likely to eat her than speak with her.” He pauses. “Then we will blow it up.”

“Let her get torn apart by alien carnivores and then sizzled to bits by this spaceship? You’re hardcore.”

There’s an awkward pause.

The doorbell goes off repeatedly, and Rurik sighs.

“We should rise and greet my parents,” he says, but not like he means it. Like he’s also sensing the awkwardness. There’s a learning curve to becoming fated mates.

“Sounds good.”

I sit up as he heads for the door, snagging his robe along the way. He tosses it over his shoulders, belts it, and then hits the panel beside the door, allowing Avril to stumble in. She curses, trying to balance a breakfast tray on one hand and a dress slung over her other arm.

I tuck the covers close around me, warm sunlight or starlight or space radiation or something on my back, and wait for her to approach the bed.

“Right here is good.” I tap the mattress as she glares at me, dropping the silver tray down and sloshing coffee everywhere. Probably more of that decaf shit. Doesn’t matter. Coffee in space is a luxury.

“It’s Keurig coffee this time,” she sniffs, doing her best to dash my enjoyment of the smell and sight of it. Giving up my eighty-hour-a-week job wasn’t hard, but giving up coffee? Kill me now. “But I’m still jealous.” Avril gestures at me. “You’re a literal space princess, and I’m your servant. Does that seem fair? And I could handle all that if I was gifted a mate, too. But you and Connor? I saved your life.”

She did. That’s fair. I hand her the coffee, but she waves it off. I lift one of the lids on my tray to find … macarons. Goddamn it. I eat one anyway.

“You want a fated mate?” I ask her, and she pauses to stare at me. Under the other lids, I find thickly sliced meat that could be ham if not for the, uh, well … the skin on the edges is striped like a zebra. Crispy though. Lab grown? Hmm. I put the lid back on and continue searching. A scone. Some clotted cream and jam. Normal-ish looking eggs (the yolks are red). Glass of water. Glass of some mysterious blue-green fruit juice with a straw.

“You’re asking me that as you sit on a luxurious bed in a room of suites with a massive wardrobe—have you even looked at your goddamn closet yet?—with a guy who fucks you so hard that your cum face gets plastered all over the Noctuidan network.”

She stops talking as I choke on the macaron—it tastes like smiles and lazy bees over buttercup flowers—and gape up at her.

“Show me,” I whisper, chugging the coffee and then throwing on a robe. My eyes dart to the bathroom door, as if I’m already waiting for Rurik to come back. It’s true. I am. I admit it.

Avril hands me a tablet, queued up with a zoomed-in photo of yours truly.

My face. Eyes closed. Mouth open. In ecstasy.

I’ve gone viral. My orgasm face has gone viral. And not Earth viral. Universe viral.

“You should thank the prince,” Avril is telling me as she paces beside my bed. “He technically wasn’t supposed to cover you up. Not on the walk from here to the mating room. Not in the elevator shaft. Definitely not in the room itself. But at least he waited until after his markings appeared, and everyone could confirm you guys were legit mates. If not, he’d have been in some serious trouble with his entire court.”

Rurik. Damn it.

I pick up the juice next, but it only looks an odd shade. It tastes like blueberries and kiwis.

“So, there’s a one second shot of my face and that’s enough to go viral? Just that one second?”

Avril stops and turns to look at me, dressed in a loose red cotton shift dress, like that’s maybe her nightgown or something.

“Yeah, but it’s everywhere,” she replies easily. “It’s all anyone can talk about.”

My face shuts down, and I look at her with what I hope she can tell is a serious expression.

“Make an announcement. The next person caught looking at or distributing any part of that video other than a cropped shot of Rurik’s wings changing color, will have a digit removed.” I lift and wiggle my pinky finger. “Any digit of my choice. Anything.” She just stands there and stares at me until Rurik appears, scrubbing at his mouth to clean off last night’s blood.

“Do what your princess tells you when she tells you to do it.” He snaps his fingers and Avril takes off, fleeing the room like it’s on fire. The door shuts. Rurik looks my way, his mouth half red, half ice pink. He doesn’t like to be seen in public with it stained although it seems to happen constantly against his will and better judgment.

I smile.

Sensing his feelings is weirdly natural.

“Anything special you want me to wear today?” For all I know, there’s a different uniform and ritual for each day of this supposed seven-day wedding.

“Please explore your closet and the wardrobe that I created for you,” he says, gently enough. But there’s a growl under there, something rolling and waiting and creeping toward me. Rurik gestures with a hand, and I shove up to my feet, taking the juice with me.

I follow him to the far side of the room where he approaches one of two doors. It opens immediately and … I’m dumbstruck.

There’s a space that’s roughly the size of my parents’ living room, kitchen, and dining room combined. It’s three stories tall, with dresses on forms against the walls on either side. The forms don’t stand still however. Headless as they are, they dance and twirl and spin, curtsy and fluff their skirts. Headless blood-controlled cyborgs wearing my clothes. I … I’ve seen it all now, I think. Rurik snaps his fingers and they all go still, settling into demure positions against the walls.

Better even than that? Behind them, library shelves climb, studded with books.

“Where … what did you do?” I whisper, looking over at him. He smirks and flicks his fingers in the direction of the space.

“As I said, you may have a small library as a princess and a large one as a queen. Don’t be spoilt.” He gives me a look before turning and walking past, pausing with our shoulders just barely touching. “If you act spoilt, you will have to be spanked again.” He takes his gloves from the pocket of his robe, and snaps them at my ass.

I’m … Yeah. If I were Jane, I’d be head over heels. But I’m Eve, so I’m only mildly impressed. You fucking liar. I’d be in heaven if the whole universe hadn’t seen my orgasm face.

I select a white dress made of lace, one that flares at the hips but molds tight over my waist and breasts. It has cap sleeves, a heart-shaped neckline, and matching white flats with red fur trim. Every outfit is human in design, but tailored to match Rurik and his white, red, and black features. We’ll … figure out a way to fix that long-term. If I want a purple sweater and some blue jeans, isn’t that my right?

When I emerge from the closet/library, the prince is waiting for me in another military uniform made of stars.

Rurik takes my arm, and I try not to think about his coremata. Happens anyway. I’m obsessed with them.

“Do they ever … unfurl against your will?” I cringe, and he glares down at me. He must know what I’m talking about because he doesn’t ask for clarification. Side effect of being able to read one another, I guess.

“Of course not,” he huffs, but I get the idea that that isn’t true.

“Are they unfurling now?”

Rurik lifts the corner of his lip at me and then drags me through the door and into the foyer.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Connor greets as both he and Avril take their bows. Zero is actively yawning and patting lazily at her mouth. I don’t think cyborgs need to yawn, so … it’s performative. Her eyes widen when she sees Rurik staring at her, and she, too, drops into a bow.

What a bitch.

We stride past and into the hall, heading down a sadly familiar path to the throne room.

His parents are waiting for us. What else are they going to do? They’re stuck here. Trapped. My fears from last night come roaring back to me.

“Ah, my son!” His mother glides over to us, her voice gentle but loving through the buzz of my translator. “You have done so well.” She coils around us both, but doesn’t squeeze too hard. Her face does, however, level strangely with us. She stares at him. “But you did play fast and loose with the rules.”

“My mate’s comfort and safety were my priorities. Rules are not relevant if they cause her to come to harm.” He says all of this without flinching, completely deadpan, arm in mine and staring straight ahead.

His mother unfurls and retreats as his father nods approvingly.

“You understand what it means to have a mate, Rurik. Your mother and I are pleased.” The big man leans down to peer into my face with a smile. The expression stutters strangely, and I see a horrifying sight. I see his mouth stretched weirdly with a pair of white mandibles on either side, vibrating. I blink, and it’s gone, but the trauma is there. “Please prepare your new bride for the day.”

Rurik offers a bow, and we leave as quickly as we came.

“Prepare for the day?” I ask, and then I remember the mandible thing. I look at Rurik, and I wonder not for the first time if the ‘synchronicity contacts’ hide his real face from me. Does he have creepy mouthparts, too? I think as I study his perfect lips. He pauses to stare down at me, flicking a feeler in confusion.

“Yes?” he asks, waiting patiently.

“Does your … I thought I saw, like, mandibles on your dad? I don’t know how else to ask the question.”

He smiles beautifully at me, reaching a hand out to tease a strand of my hair. He even curls it around his finger and gives it a gentle tug.

“Are you worried that perhaps I have hidden mandibles as well?”

He can dig into my thoughts and feelings with zero effort at this point, so why bother trying to hide anything?

“It wouldn’t be particularly sexy if you did,” I admit, with a hint of shame in my words. He’s my mate, regardless, but I like his mouth. I want his mouth to be real.

“My father requires mandibles in order to mate with my mother, so he has developed them.” His smile turns into something of a seductive smirk as he leans down toward me, breath ruffling my hair. “My mate requires a soft tender mouth to match her own, and so mine has not changed much at all.”

“This is the mouth you were born with?” I ask, and then I realize right away that all of the unmated Vestalis I’ve seen have human-shaped mouths as well.

“Yes, my princess.” He’s so smugly amused that I have to do something to even the odds. My hand slides up under his jacket and my fingers stroke his coremata. Pheromones hit me like a truck, and I think the startled look on his face is reflected back on my own.

We stare at each other.

“Leave us.” Rurik waves his hand at Zero, Avril, Connor, and the handful of random people in the hallway nearby. Not a soul dares to dodder, footsteps moving quickly down the hall in either direction. His hands are at his slacks, undoing them as quickly as he’s able. He snatches me around the waist, claspers digging into my skin beneath the full lace skirt of my dress, and … “Where are your undergarments?” Rurik whispers reverently, the tip of him poised to enter me, rubbing slickness between us as he rocks me into the wall.

“I figured we … that today …” I don’t finish my sentence. He pushes his cock into me, and my body short-circuits. He promised it’d be better today and … oh, it’s better. I’m sore, but this is too delicious. I can’t stop. He fits perfectly, made for me. Literally fucking made for me. But his personality? The arrogant curl of his mouth, his odd mix of stubborn asshole and naive princeling. That’s all him, but it’s still perfect somehow anyway.

Rurik spreads his wings wide, likely trying to shield us from the rest of the hallway. I know it’s fruitless to expect privacy here—his father’s blood lace owns the entirety of The Korol—but … I don’t care. This man is a fire in my veins, and an itch I can’t scratch. He’s the person I’ve always been looking for but never knew I needed. He’s fucking everything, and I can’t get enough.

“More, more, more,” I moan, my lips sloppy against his. It’s so hard to kiss when you’re getting fucked proper, like the effort to move your mouth with any semblance of control is not a thing. My lips are parted in a half-moan, half-scream, and he slips his hot tongue inside to take over. Threads of lace explode from him and dig into me, spiraling down and curling through me as he siphons whatever blood he needs—whatever he wants—from my body.

His coremata are out now, brushing against my bare legs and my arms. A delicate slipper falls off of my foot, and I can’t decide if this cute, little white lace dress is the antithesis of something a girl should be fucked in or … if it’s perfect. I hope it stains.

“Ah, princess,” Rurik breathes, licking my neck, savoring me like a morsel and a tight fuck and a wife and a friend, all at the same time. “My princess …”

He makes me come first, shuddering and shivering against him as I yank his coremata to me, brushing them over my face and lips. It’s such a weird body part to have, but I’m obsessed with them. They’re so very strange and so very male and they smell so good.

I suck the tip of one in my mouth as I’m orgasming, and it sends Rurik into a spiral.

I’m against the wall, and then I’m on the floor, and he’s taking me as hard and as rough as he did last night. Harder. Rougher. My head falls back. I see stars. And then he’s filling me with hot, sticky seed that’s as red as blood. I know because it was all over my thighs and ass cheeks last night. Staining the bed we left behind in the glass bell jar tower. All over me now.

Rurik sits up and his cock slides out, claspers winding around it as he relaxes onto his haunches. I sit up, and I see his spend all over my folds and dripping down to the floor.

“Holy shit.” I’m speechless. I don’t even know where to go from here. What are we supposed to be doing today? Something important?

“Holy,” he repeats, closing his dark eyes and lifting his face to the ceiling. “You are a Star-sent goddess with thighs of moonlit cream and a mouth that is too sensual for polite company.”

Okay, now I’m speechless.

“You … you.” That’s all I get out as Rurik tucks his cock into his slacks, using that strange thigh strap to keep it down. His coremata fold back in and disappear under his jacket, but when he shakes his wings out reflexively, I’m dusted with invisible but silky, shimmery powder. Ah. I breathe it in and close my eyes.

His hands tug my dress back down, the white lace dirtied and in need of a good wash. Not my problem to scrub stains out of clothes anymore. No more fighting impossible stains like barbeque sauce on my white button-down. No more chocolate sauce on my apron. None of that.

I relax onto my back on the floor, and Rurik picks me up in his arms the way that I knew he would if I went limp. I don’t even open my eyes as he carries me down the hall toward our rooms.

“Your …” It takes me three tries to form a sentence, and I crack my eyes to find him staring down at me with nothing but affection in his night owl gaze. “Your parents said to prepare me for the day. Care to explain?”

The door to our suite slides open, and Rurik finally sets me on my feet in the foyer.

His face, when I look back at him, is now tense.

“The star-jump.” He gives me that pretty, signature scowl before his features soften again. He removes a glove and presses his palm against my cheek, teasing my skin with one of his sharp nails. “You will not like it. Most do not. Vestalis children are put to sleep beforehand.” Rurik taps his nail against my pulse, and I lift my chin, arching my neck into his touch. “I could prick you now and send you into a peaceful sleep, or we could ride it out together as some mates do.”

I reach up to take his hand in both of mine. I’d almost forgotten that he’d put me to sleep with the poke of his nail into my skin.

“Didn’t you prick me plenty last night?” I tease, and then add, “and this morning.”

My thighs are wet and sticky, and I really need a shower. Alien dudes come way harder than human dudes. There’s a hell of a lot of seminal fluid in and around my person.

“Your Majesties—” Avril doesn’t finish her sentence, and when I look back at her, I see that she’s staring at the red stains on my legs.

“Vestalis semen is red,” I mutter quickly, lest she get some different idea. Like, say, if she thought it was blood. It’s definitely not. The texture and the smell and the viscosity, all very different.

“Yeah, I know,” she replies simply, and it takes effort on my part not to throat punch her. My eyebrow twitches.

“A fact you might’ve relayed to me before the wedding,” I say dryly, but she ignores me.

“Your Majesties,” she repeats, bowing low. “May I have permission to sleep through the star-jump?”

“Permission granted.” Rurik reaches out and pokes her beside the ear with his nail, watching dispassionately as she slumps to the floor. He looks up at me like what? and I grin back at him.

“Fierce. I like it.” I point at her crumpled form with an accusing finger. “If anything, she should thank us.”

“Avril?” Connor appears, dropping to his knees beside her and rolling her onto her back. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Take her to her bed and leave her there,” Rurik continues, straightening out his jacket with a small sigh. “If you wish to sleep during the star-jump, your request is denied. You will suffer through it, so that I may prove to you the superiority of the Vestalis.”

“No, man. I was way wrong.” Connor struggles to pick Avril up off the floor, moving aside when Zero appears and does it for him. She hefts the other woman up with no effort whatsoever, slings her over one shoulder, and takes off for the servants’ bedroom. I think it has a second entrance besides the one in my room, but I’m not sure. Connor brushes his fancy red suit off. “You were right all along. As soon as I saw my mate, I knew.” He pauses, and then jerks his head away sharply, eyes closing. “But he doesn’t want me so … I guess I’ll experience both heaven and hell in equal measures.”

Pretty sure I even see a tear on the man’s cheek.

“Brot will come around soon enough,” Rurik hedges, as if he’s regretting offering comfort to Connor but can’t help himself. If anything, Rurik might be too nice. Like, maybe he’s not ruthless enough to be king. That worries me. A lot of things worry me.

Namely, the idea of something called a ‘star-jump’ worries me a fuck of a lot. I can see a literal star coming closer and closer outside the windows of the ship. Aren’t we going to burn up if we get any closer? Aren’t stars just balls of like flaming gas or something?

Star-jump. Dizziness sweeps me, and I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid passing out. Rurik’s warm arms sliding around me help. A lot. I cling to him and nestle my cheek against his chest. It feels damn good to be held like this.

“How could anyone reject their mate?” Connor continues, and I will him to shut up without my having to throat punch him, too. “It’s the most basic, fundamental concept in the universe. Once you know, you know. It can’t be unknown. Walking away from it is the very definition of stupidity—”

I move away from Rurik, and I kick Connor in the shin. He curses before he notices the … all the red on my legs.

“Oh. Excuse me, Princess.” He turns away suddenly, adjusting his glasses with his middle finger. His eyes spark with contrived mischief. “I forgot that today was the Day of Wearing.”

“Huh?” I ask as Rurik grits his teeth, and then we all pause at the sound of our doorbell.

“It is Brot,” Rurik says immediately, likely spotting his brother through the blood lace on the front of our door. “Go and greet him.” He turns to Connor, but the medic is frozen in place, eyes wide, all traces of smirking wiped clean from his lips. “Stars help me.”

Rurik waves his hand and the door opens on its own.

By the way, I’m still standing there with a red-stained dress and evidence of, um … but though Rurik looks pityingly at me, he doesn’t move to cover me. I start to get the idea that this is yet another Vestalis tradition that I should’ve been warned about sooner. The Day of Wearing, eh?

“Pardon me, My Imperial Majesties,” Brot grinds out, his tongue sliding against one of his vampire teeth. He doesn’t look at Connor, but Connor trembles nonetheless. Eww. I don’t actually look like that when I’m around Rurik, do I? If so … yikes. Jane will never let me hear the end of it. “I am here to collect the human, Connor, in preparation for the star-jump.”

“Very well.” Rurik waves his hand, expecting Connor to leave with his brother.

Neither man moves.

It gets very awkward, very fast.

“Human male, go,” Rurik hisses, shoving at Connor’s shoulder. He stumbles, but Brot catches him. Their eyes meet, but Brot doesn’t allow the eye contact to last long. He turns away and takes off down the hallway, assuming, I guess, that Connor will follow.

He does, and the door slides shut.

“What the hell was all that?” I mutter, and Rurik sighs, looking back to me.

“I can’t say that I know for certain, but likely Brot is cursing his fate. A human mate is a strange thing indeed, and even more so that he is male. Perhaps he is lamenting the loss of the throne?” Rurik sounds like he couldn’t imagine why anyone would be bothered by such a thing. My suspicions coil, but I push the worry back in favor of more pressing matters.

“The Day of Wearing …?” I pause and wait, knowing that the prince’s sharp cringe is indicative that I’m not going to like this.

“It is customary for the Imperial Princess to wear … proof of her mate’s affections.” Rurik at least has the common decency to look ashamed. “A stained white garment is preferable.”

“It’s … it’s part of the wedding ritual to wear cum stains?” I’m choking on the words now. In the end, I just throw my hands up, turn, and head into our bedroom. Rurik catches up to me, sliding an arm around my waist from behind.

“You may clean yourself off and wear only the dress,” he offers, but is that much better? I glare at him over my shoulder, but then I look up toward the window with its strange mesh covering, and I see that the star is right fucking there.

“How … how long until the star-jump?” I whisper, terror clinging icily to my insides.

“Thirty Earth minutes,” he whispers against my ear. “Unfortunately, it is the only way for us to reach the planet Dome without spending years in transit. But first, I have a wedding present to give to you.”

I spin around in his arms, and he stares down at me with an expression of true helplessness. He’s powerless to resist the pull between us, and I wonder as I look back at him how I ever resisted in the first place.

“Present?” My voice is scratchy and weird.

“Now that I am officially crowned as the next heir, I have more power to grant you what you want.” He takes me by the hand and guides me to the edge of the bed. I wait patiently as Rurik gathers the tablet I discarded this morning, tapping his finger on the screen before he turns it around and hands it out.

I accept it with eyes narrowed in mild suspicion. And then I see that a call is being made.

It’s Jane that answers.

It’s … it’s Jane.

“Oh my fucking God!” I scream, surging up off the bed at the same moment that she yells out, “Sweet baby Jesus, it’s my girl!”

We’re both crying this time. Me, through laughter. Her, literally sobbing. Like I said, Jane feels emotions a hundred times harder than anyone else I’ve ever met.

Now we’re both trying to talk over each other. I decide to let her go first because, well, this is Jane. There’s no way I can outtalk my bestie. She is the queen of loquacity.

“Um, I don’t even … I know you got my video message … but I …” Jane snorts, and then lifts up an embroidered handkerchief to swab at her nose. Her dark hair is tucked up under the tricorne hat atop her head, the pale yellow one with the stars around the brim, the one that glows prettily. I like the black corset and ruffled white top she’s got on underneath it. Very pirate. Rawr. “I’m so sorry, Eve. I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so—”

I look up to find Rurik watching me curiously, like he’s enjoying seeing me in my natural habitat. That is, buried under Jane’s constant stream of gossip and babble, that’s my natural habitat. I feel it now, like I’m home all of a sudden. I don’t need to be on Earth to feel that way.

“So sorry!” she finishes, finally sucking back the last of her tears. She leans in and narrows one eye on the screen, like she’s trying to peer into my soul. “Or … do you owe me a thank you instead?”

“Excuse me?” I blurt, even though I’d sort of been entertaining a similar idea. “I don’t owe you shit! You got me abducted by aliens!”

“Yeah, but …” Jane trails off and then makes a show of looking around. She taps her nails on the wooden table in front of her. I can’t see much of the ship behind her, but it kind of looks like the inside of a boat? I know she’s in space, too, so why is she both dressed as a pirate and also riding in a goddamn boat? “I saw your broadcast from last night. I mean, up to the moment when your second man used your blood to make a curtain of lace.” She sits back smugly and crosses her arms over her corset.

Shit, she saw my cum-face. Wouldn’t be the first time. Jane has accidentally walked in on me before. I’d hoped never to repeat that mistake, but this is honestly time number three. We might have a problem here.

“So you think I should thank you for dragging me to cater Tabbi’s party now?” I start, and then—God help us all—the bitch appears as if summoned. I knew better than to say her name aloud.

“What the hell? Is that Evelyn?” Tabbi asks, leaning down to peer into the screen. She frowns as soon as she sees me. A smirk curves itself onto my face.

“Hello Tabitha Katherine,” I reply prettily. This chick is used to being pop star royalty on Earth. But out here? Where it really counts? Where Earth is nothing but a nature preserve at the mercy of the Vestalis and their planet-destroying ship, I am the boss. “I think you should curtsy nicely for me and say greetings, My Imperial Princess.”

“Why don’t you get fucked?” Tabbi retorts, storming off camera. My mouth gapes open, but she’s back in short-order, hands up and walking backwards. Officer Hyt is right there in front of her, hands on his hips, tentacle tails wafting. He flicks the brim of his hat up to peer at her.

“Your princess gave you an order, Citizen of the Noctuida.” He turns from blue to pink. “As an officer of the law, I am obligated to make sure that you follow it.” Back to blue again. Hyt smiles, and my heart skips weirdly. If … Hyt is on that ship then … Abraxas …

I swallow hard, looking up past the screen to see Rurik staring at me again.

Heat slicks across my skin, a mixture of shame and arousal. I can’t hide anything from him now. He’ll know what I’m thinking about. Maybe not my exact thoughts—we can’t read each other’s minds unless we’re sharing blood—but the direction of them.

“Don’t make me pull out my pistol again,” Hyt warns, gesturing for Tabbi to turn toward the screen again. Jane scoots her chair out of the way so that I have a proper view of the action.

Cheeks flaming with red, Tabbi drops into a surprisingly pretty curtsy.

“Greetings, My Imperial Princess.” She practically spits the words out, teeth gritted in barely suppressed aggression. Tabbi turns on her heel and disappears as Hyt chuckles. Jane looks back at him, then over at me. Peers at me. Stares at me.

She communicates in the language of longtime female friends.

Her lip twitches. Translation: are you into this guy, too?

Blink. Blink. That’s my response. It means erm, I don’t know.

Jane sighs heavily and looks at Hyt again.

“Hey guy, could we have a minute to talk alone? It’d be much appreciated.”

Hyt waltzes over to the desk, putting one hand flat on the surface as he leans down to look at me, his tails swaying prettily, his hat tilted back to reveal his eyes, his body naked and slick and beautiful with only a brown leather belt and loin cloth to cover his bits.

“Good to see you again so soon, Imperial Princess. Congratulations on your nuptials.” He slaps his hand on the desk and then stands up straight. The move puts his abs and chest on display which I guess is the whole point? “Tell the prince that I said hi.”

Rurik grits his teeth, but doesn’t move from his spot in the middle of the floor. My gaze drifts ever so slightly to the left, to the window and the overwhelming brightness and heat of the star we’re approaching.

I look back to Jane again as Hyt turns, flashing ass cheeks, and disappears from view.

“Are you alone?” Jane asks desperately, peering around like she’s trying to see past the edges of the tablet on the desk in front of her. “Is your new husband there? I quite like your other husband, so I’m a bit surprised you added a second.” She holds up her hands, palms out. “Not judging, just saying. You told me once that you’d rather be dipped in a vat of boiling acid than get married and now you’re married twice over?”

“I never said that,” I grit out, but I’m pretty sure that I did. Lots of other, similar sentiments, too. I once compared being married to being locked in a medieval dungeon without sunlight, food, a toilet, or sex. I compared it to waterboarding. I insinuated it was like being burned alive. I say a lot of things after a few bottles of wine. Bottles, not glasses. A few bottles. My hand slides unconsciously over my belly. Am I really pregnant? If I am, would it be Abraxas’ child or did Rurik take over the fertilized embryo last night? I’m afraid to tell Jane about all of that. “You knew I wanted to get married someday. I’ve said as much.”

“You said—and I quote—if I try to get married before I turn thirty, have me committed.” Jane stares at me as I narrow my eyes on her. “What? You did say that.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” I reply with an affectionate sigh. God, I’ve missed this girl. “I’m relieved that you’re okay. When I woke up in the tent and you were gone, I … I thought you’d been eaten. Or you’d be forced into marriage. Trapped in a brothel.”

“Humans,” Jane whispers softly, “pets, meat, or mates.”

We both shudder.

“Do you want to meet my husband?” I ask as brightly as I can. I want to talk to Jane, but I also really want to see Abraxas. I … I’m also scared to see Abraxas. He knew this was coming, but did he know that I’d jump into my new relationship with as much gusto as I have? I miss him. I miss him so damn bad.

“Of course I do!” Jane sits up straighter, adjusting her hat and waiting as I gesture at Rurik to come sit beside me on the bed. He does as I ask, settling down with the length of his thigh pressed against mine. “Oh. Wow. He’s … pretty.”

I look over to see that he’s watching me and not Jane, and I feel that strange sense of otherworldly wonder that we found each other. Like two moths in the dark of night, searching for our soulmates. With great effort, I tear my gaze from his to look back at Jane.

“Jane, this is Rurik. Rurik, this is Jane.” I gesture between the screen and my new man, and Jane grins brightly.

“I cannot wait to spend some quality time with you, Rurik. I know everything there is to know about your new wife. I know stories that would have you howling and possibly also considering divorce. Pretty sure we should start with the pi?ata story. Nobody ever believes me when I tell the pi?ata story.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Rurik replies stiffly, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with Jane. That’s okay. Nobody ever quite knows what to do with Jane. Except for maybe …

“We don’t have a lot of time,” I admit, thinking of the impending ‘star-jump’ and whatever it entails. “But I would be remiss if I let you go without asking …” My mouth turns into a sharp and somewhat evil grin, teeth flashing. “What is this copulatory plug of which you speak?”

I left her a little note in the Twilight book that Hyt bought for me. All it said was: LOL, you got a mate, too? Love ya, your bestie Eve. She knew this was coming.

Jane chokes on her own spit, yanking her pirate hat off her head and covering her face with it. She’s laughing, too, but the sound is high and strange, and I just know that whatever this story is, it’s going to beat the one about the time I got trapped inside a pi?ata filled with candy—that was subsequently beaten with sticks by various children. I’d rather Rurik not hear that one, but Jane is going to tell him anyway, so I may as well embarrass her now.

“Shall I give you privacy, my princess?” Rurik whispers softly, his hand on my bare knee. I almost die from that small, brief contact. The need to fuck him hits me like the sticks of those wild children against the sides of the pi?ata. It’s a wonder that I didn’t die that day.

“No, no,” I assure him, half-croaking the words as I struggle with my overactive libido. “Jane has been telling Abraxas all my embarrassing secrets, I’m sure. She can share this one with the both of us.”

She drops her hat to her lap and glares at me.

That’s when I know: this guy, this ‘Captain Kidd’, he’s a special one for sure.

“It was supposed to be a onetime thing,” she pleads, as if she’s begging me to do something about her copulatory plug. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I have a glowing vagina. “I didn’t know that my cunt was so powerful that it’d draw his … his … mating fluid out of him? Isn’t that the whole point?” She’s practically yelling now, maybe unaware that someone has entered the room behind her.

It’s not Tabbi Kat. Or Hyt. It’s … something else.

A guy with a mohawk that trails from his head down his neck and back. A guy wearing a black pirate hat. A guy with his hands on his hips and a glare in his amber eyes. Breeches. Boots. A sword. Sharp teeth. He looks a bit like a hyena if I’m being honest. A pirate spliced with a hyena.

This must be Captain Kidd.

“We’ll soon be entering our own star-jump. Your transmission will cut off here any minute.” He growls this all out, like he’s trying to be informative, but is secretly holding back the need to be a colossal asshole.

Ahhhh. This guy is exactly Jane’s type. She likes to love ‘em and leave ‘em, but … guess she can’t do that with a literal plug in her vagina, now can she?

“You and your dumb-dumb alien romance plots!” I’m howling now because she’s the one that likes to read that shit. I don’t have much time to read, what with the demands of my business. When I do, it’s usually some cheesy young adult romance with way too much of the characters staring at each other’s lips when they should just be fucking. “This is amazing! Is this your guy?”

Hyt returns to the room, pulling his hat off to shield his lips as he whispers something in Captain Kidd’s fuzzy round hyena ear. Hyt drops the hat down to his side and the two of them exchange a long look. I refuse to focus too much on Officer Hyt. He … there’s something about him that I don’t understand. I don’t want to understand it. I have enough to deal with as it is.

“I am not her guy,” Captain Kidd declares, scowling as he turns and storms off. Didn’t even wait to be properly introduced. Yeah. This guy is Jane’s type to a T.

“I can’t have sex with anyone else,” she whispers, eyes tearing up a bit. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” I promise her, but then I happen to look over and catch Rurik’s expression. He’s frowning when he looks back at me, and then he shakes his head gently. I’m getting the impression that there’s nothing he knows of that can help Jane.

“He will never be able to get an erection again without her pheromones present. She will never have a clear mating channel without his pheromones present.” Rurik presents the news in a calm, even tone, but perhaps there’s a bit of sympathy missing there.

Jane gapes at him.

“I have a glowing vagina,” I offer gently, hoping that’ll help. It doesn’t. She just glares at me.

“A glowing vagina that clearly isn’t plugged up. I can’t even masturbate.”

“You can touch your clit.” I’m trying to make her feel better, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

A dark shadow slips into the room behind her, blurring the edges of reality.

I am struck dumb.

I can’t think straight.

He’s … he’s right there.

Abraxas slinks behind Jane, standing on all fours with his tail thrashing gently.

“My female,” he growls out, and I slap a hand over my mouth. My eyes slam shut. I can’t breathe. “I have missed you.”

I can’t talk. Not yet. But I force my eyes back open so that I can meet his jeweled gaze.

Rurik is stiff beside me, breathing heavily, but he doesn’t turn away. He stares right back at Abraxas, but my dragon mate doesn’t deign to look at him. He has eyes only for me.

“I have hope that your inferior male was not an unpleasant creature to mate,” Abraxas says softly, but with no small amount of intended derision. He chuffs and leans in, splitting his mouth wide and sliding his tongue up the glass of the tablet.

My body reacts like I’ve been sucker-punched, and I’m forced to look away.

I’m sweating.

My pussy throbs painfully, clenches on emptiness when it should rightfully be clenching around Abraxas’ dicks. I turn back to see him watching me. Jane has scooted her chair to the side, but makes absolutely no move to get up and leave. If I ask for privacy, she’ll just sit there longer so I say nothing.

“I miss you, too,” I whisper, suddenly resentful of my connection to Rurik. He can feel what I’m going through right now. I can see it in the tight set of his jaw, in the glint of red in his dark eyes, in the flatness of his beautiful pink mouth. There’s a stain of red on his lower lip from when he bit me in the hallway. “I … I’m sorry.”

Those last two words, they drift like autumn leaves, swirling and dancing in an icy breeze.

“Female.” The strong, sharp sound of Abraxas’ voice jerks my entire soul back into focus.

Rurik and I might be destined, but what greater freedom is there than choice?

Abraxas and I chose each other.

They’re both mine now. It’s a strange, tender thought. It’s something that I can’t even control. I’m bound to both of them in irreversible ways. Which means … Rurik is absolutely telling me the truth about bringing Abraxas aboard this ship to stay. Now that I’ve seen some of the natural areas, I guess it’s possible that he could be given a den to stay in, one that I could share with him. But … he won’t be happy permanently living on The Korol. We’ll have to take trips to Jungryuk or wherever else.

I shake thoughts of the future loose. One step at a time. Rurik and I are mated. We need to complete the rest of the ridiculous Vestalis wedding rituals. And then we can figure this all out. Together. It’ll have to be done together.

My connections with the pair of them … might be … equal?

“Yes, male?” I reply, and Abraxas offers me that horrifying Cheshire cat grin that gets my heart all twisted up with happy hormones.

“A Vestalis mate bond would be a trying difficulty for any mated pair, but you and I can and will overcome any obstacle. Even and especially this.” He tilts his head, horns shimmering with violet light, and Jane whistles under her breath.

“Damn, this is hot,” she whispers, but I ignore her. She’s the most important person in the whole of the Noctuida—even more so than my parents or my siblings or any of my other friends—but there are exceptions now. Abraxas. Rurik.

I look back to the latter to gauge his reaction. He isn’t staring Abraxas down anymore. Instead, his focus is on the floor.

Overwhelming grief. Impossible hope. Jealousy. Relief. Love.

He snaps his gaze back to mine and narrows his eyes.

I force my stare away from his and then end up caught on Abraxas again.

“This changes nothing between us,” I promise him. “I love you.” I swallow, knowing that Jane is going to make fun of me for my vulnerability later, but unable to help myself. “And I’m counting down the days until we see each other again.”

“Ah, my tiny, sweet female,” he growls, and then the transmission cuts off abruptly.

That terrifies me, strikes a primal fear into my heart that I have trouble breathing around. I whip my gaze over to Rurik, but he’s already stripped both gloves so that he can take my face between his warm hands.

“Do not be afraid. They are nearing the star-jump as are we. It was inevitable that we would soon lose contact.”

“Won’t your parents find out about this?” I ask, but then I hear something strange, a quieting. I don’t know how else to describe it but for that. The ship slows down, and all the ambient noise ceases. All of the lights shut off. We’re lit only by the persistent glow of the star outside, but it’s more than enough to see by.

“They will not, not with a star-jump on the horizon. Come.” Rurik sets the tablet aside on the nightstand and then pulls me into the bed with him.

We lie on our sides, legs tangled. His right wing is underneath both him and me, like a silk blanket.

“Look at me,” he whispers, and I do. I stay still, and I stare, and I don’t let myself think about Abraxas or Jane or anything else. My breath releases. My body softens toward Rurik’s. He keeps me where I am when I try to wriggle closer, locking our gazes. “Tell me something about yourself, my princess. I must know everything.”

I understand that he’s trying to distract me from whatever is about to happen, but I’m too scared not to fall for it. I hate space. I hate spaceships. I hate stars.

Mostly, I hate the thought of losing all this.

I can’t die just yet.

“I once dated a guy who bred moths,” I whisper back, Rurik’s left hand on my shoulder to keep me still, his right arm curved under my body. I wish his claspers were out, pinning my hips and holding me in place. I loved the feeling of it, this basic biological urge to keep me close that he had no power to deny. “He studied them as an entomologist.”

“You mated with his human male?” Rurik asks with a pretty scowl forming on his lips. I smile at that.

“What? Like you were a virgin before last night?” I already know that he was. Seems pretty clear that the Vestalis can only mate with one female in their whole lives. That they’d only want to mate with one.

“I remained untouched, as you well know,” he growls right back, giving up and jerking me closer, running his lips over the pulse in my neck. My eyes close and I tilt my head slightly back to see if I can’t spot the star. Its light is an impossible blaze now, searing my eyes and tainting my vision an endless white. I wonder if that’s what the weird screen over the windows is for? To protect our vision, our skin. I know Rurik wouldn’t let me look if my eyesight was in jeopardy. “This human male, you mated him?” he asks again, and I drop my head.

Rurik is now propped over me, a knee and a hand on either side of my body, staring intently. Waiting.

Don’t think about the star. Don’t think about the light. Don’t think about the dead and silent ship as it floats through nothingness.

I exhale and concentrate on Rurik.

“He was terrible at sex. I mean, god-awful.” I pause there to wet my lips, still staring at my soulmate. “I think that I always liked the moths better than I did him.”

Rurik smiles with guile on his lips, but he never breaks our gaze. He surges up suddenly, grinding his hardness between my hips. He snatches my chin and peers into my eyes.

“Princess, I am not a moth.”

My heart stops.

The world stops.

Everything is still and frozen and quiet.

And then my soul is torn screaming and wailing past my parted lips.