Chapter 2

Rurik doesn’t bother me the next morning. He leaves me to sulk in my room with Avril and Zero for company. Today’s breakfast consists of purple pancakes and eggs with yolks the size of my fist. I appreciate the effort, and the taste isn’t bad, but it makes me miss home even more.

It makes me miss Abraxas the most.

I’m sitting on one of the sofas in another of Avril’s ridiculous designs: a red push-up bra, lacy boyshorts, and a white robe that pools on the floor when I walk. It’s very pretty. It makes me feel very lonely. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and it isn’t leading me anywhere good. Thinking about Earth and my family makes me sick. Thinking about Abraxas makes me sicker. I’ve already gouged a second line into the table, and I’m wondering how long until I die of a broken heart.

I force my thoughts back to Rurik. He’s the easiest thing to think about right now. I know that I’m being harsh, judging him because his parents freak me out. If I judged Abraxas because a female of his species swallowed me alive, I never would’ve experienced the true joy I felt when I was his mate—however temporary that might’ve been.

Jane’s mother is in jail for drunk driving; she killed a bride on her wedding day after a dozen cocktails. I’ve never judged Jane for that. Nobody—alien or human—deserves to be judged because they’re related to someone cruel or stupid or … a giant millipede. A pearly rainbow millipede with mean eyes and creepy mouthparts and about four-hundred-billion legs.

I sigh and Avril looks up from the tablet in her hand. There’s internet here. Movies. Books. Porn. Lots and lots of alien porn. Avril doesn’t seem to mind that I’m staring at her as strange moans and trills and chirps emanate from the tablet. She bites into another macaron—this is a thing now, apparently—and smiles softly at me.

“Look, I’m really sorry for yesterday,” she says as the moaning on her device crescendos into some alien orgasm that makes me cringe. Avril presses pause and sets the tablet aside. All of the media here features aliens and weird languages and while the translator works well enough, the plots are hard to identify with. I’m not sure why sending your mate a silk cocoon is a social faux pas. She claims that Rurik has ordered his people to start sourcing human material for us, but it’s gonna be a while, I’m sure. “I should’ve told you about the queen. She’s what nightmares are made of.” Avril pauses. “Candy-coated glittering nightmares, but still.”

“Right. And you didn’t tell me because you were afraid that I’d freak out and get you killed. Well, guess what? I almost freaked out and got us all killed anyway.” I lean my head back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling. The blood lace flares with color before fading to a rich velvety crimson.

Rurik said he only needs to feed once or twice a month, right? I shouldn’t have to see him until the day of the wedding. Until the day of the … mating ceremony? Whatever that means.

“You’re right. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Eve. I’m … this is all weird to me, too.”

“No.” Zero’s voice quavers from where she’s sitting at the table. Both Avril and I turn to look at her. She stands up, knocking the chair over, her eyes wide, her entire body trembling. For a cyborg, she’s awfully expressive. “No. No, no, no!” She screams this last part, picking up a decorative glass thing from the table and lifting her arm like she might throw it. She doesn’t make it that far, collapsing to the ground and twitching in a sea of bright white sparks.

I shove up from the couch and move over to kneel beside her, Avril at my heels.

“Are you okay?” I ask, disturbed by my own empathetic response. What is wrong with me? Why am I always trying to help people who don’t deserve my help? Like Zero. Like Tabbi Kat. Like the Vestalis prince.

“No,” Zero whispers as soon as the twitching stops. Her red eyes stare up at the ceiling, unblinking, and the blood lace choker at her throat throbs. She lifts her hands up to cover her face and rolls onto her side, curling into a ball. When she starts to sob, I know something is really, really wrong.

I stand up and grab her abandoned tablet from the table. I don’t understand any of the alien language that’s written on it, but the stupid contacts that were installed in my eyes while I was passed out—synchronicity contacts—translate the words for me as I stare at them. It’s as if the text is wobbling, shifting, melting into English. Trippy. I shake my head and blink through the distortion to see that I’m looking at a news article of some sort.

What is the Noctuida Without the Cartians: the Universe Suffers a Terrible Tragedy

That’s the title.

When I scroll down, I find a picture of people in bubblegum pink space suits. When I say ‘people’, I use the term very loosely. They’re aliens that are vaguely human-shaped with brightly colored, flowing hair, horns, and slitted eyes. They’re standing beside the body of what I’m guessing is a sleeping Aspis, the forests of Jungryuk behind them.

“What is this?” I ask, looking down at Zero. She isn’t moving. “Zero?” A long pause. “Raina?”

She begins to sob, sitting up suddenly and revealing that … eww, oh shit. She’s crying blood tears. I guess ‘blood-powered cyborg’ was a very real statement. I wasn’t aware that it went that deep.

“My people,” she whispers, staring blankly at my legs, like she doesn’t even see them. “My people are gone. The Cartians are gone. They’re gone. They’re fucking gone.”

“What does that even mean?” I’m wondering if this is even the right time to pry, but … yeah, curiosity got the cat but satisfaction brought it back. That whole bit.

“They faded from existence like a dying star.” Zero grits her teeth and shoves up to her feet, turning to look at me. “Your Imperial Princess, may I have permission to explore the World Station on my own tomorrow?”

“The World Station?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Avril gently lays her fingers on my arm, and I glance her way.

“Tomorrow, we’re briefly docking at the World Station. It’s like … an airport for spaceships. It’s the airport. It’s the main hub of the Noctuida.” At my blank look, she continues. “The Noctuida is the name of this … country, for lack of a better word. It consists of several galaxies, including the one where Earth is located. There are other countries, but the Noctuida is one of the more powerful ones. It’s ruled by the Vestalis, but tempered by the Falopex.”

The Falopex. Huh.

I turn back to Zero, trying to imagine how I’d feel if Earth was no longer a thing. If humanity was no longer a thing.

“Yeah, sure. Take some time off. Go pound some alien dick.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but she nods, like that’s exactly what she was planning on doing.

Zero rights the chair at the table, steals the tablet from my hands, and sits back down to hate-scroll. I’d tell her it wasn’t a good idea, but who among us has never engaged in a good, lengthy hate-scroll of social media?

Avril hands her tablet over to me even though I didn’t ask for it.

“Go take a bath. Watch some alien smut.” She grins at me, flashing a saucy wink that I feel she’s used liberally on many an unsuspecting victim. “It’ll make you feel better. You deserve it.”

I narrow my eyes at her, but I do as she suggested, letting the bathwater run and watching as it spills over the edge of the basin and trails down the glass wall. Outside, there’s a cluster of blue-green planets with dozens of silver moons in orbit. It’s stupid pretty, even if I hate to admit it.

With a sigh, I drop in a shimmery red bath bomb and then curse myself for picking that color.

“I didn’t choose that for you,” I tell the blood lace, and it throbs in either laughter or agreement, I’m not sure. Or, you know what, maybe I’m reading too much into this and Rurik isn’t watching me take my clothes off and climb into a steaming hot bath?

Oh, wow, that’s ergonomic. I groan and decide I don’t blame Avril too much for withholding information about the millipede queen. Honestly, nothing she could’ve said or shown me would’ve prepared me for that. It wasn’t just the ick factor of the queen being a giant bug, it was the intent in her eyes. She doesn’t like me. I hear that most people have trouble with their mother-in-laws, but this is a whole different ball game. Most people don’t have MILs who could swallow them whole.

My mind drifts back to that moment, the moment of being literally swallowed. To those chains and the sight of the Tusk Man’s slimy wormlike penis cluster with the teeth. To being dragged into a spaceship against my will and losing the male that I’m certain is my soulmate.

I didn’t believe in that crap before—I’m cringing even bringing it up—but I feel it now.

I snag the tablet off the floor next to the tub and tap my finger against the screen. There’s an orgy happening. I mean, I think it’s an orgy. I turn the device this way and that, but however aliens get freaky, I’m not getting it. Like, there’s no way I could get off to this; I don’t even know what’s going on regarding physics here.

“Huh.” I tap what appears to be a back-button and find myself on a list of words. If I had to make a comparison, I’d say the written version of this language most closely resembles Old Hungarian script. Just fucking kidding. How the hell should I know something like that? Even though I’m aware that Rurik might be watching, I pick one of the words before my contacts can translate it, and I click on it.

The screen fills with a naked Falopex.

Oh.

Wow.

Seeing Officer Hyt in person didn’t prepare me for what was underneath that scrap of loincloth. I mean, the male on the screen certainly is not Officer Hyt, but … he’s a Falopex of a similar height and shape, green instead of blue or pink.

His cock is a paler version of the skin on his upper body, the head of it circular and gently indented at the center. It’s short, but incredibly thick. As he reaches down to stroke himself, a narrow white rod extends from the green base. And when I say narrow, I mean barely narrower than the soda can circumference at the base. The male in the video thumbs the flared head of it, the shape reminiscent of a stingray. As he does, green petals unfurl from the base, nine small tentacles to match his tails. As he continues to jerk himself off, one single sucker appears on the very tip. Just the one, like at the tips of his tails.

Oh. Damn.

I feel my entire body heat with need. It’s an involuntary reaction, like breathing or eating and it makes me unbelievably sad. The one and only man I want isn’t here. And if I don’t fuck somebody else, I’ll never see him again. It’s so unfair, and the fact that I’m not totally repulsed by Rurik makes it bullshit. I’d probably like to fuck him. And that’s not okay. If I’m being forced at gunpoint into it, I want to hate it.

What if your positions were reversed, Eve? What if he had to fuck an Aspis female or a human or a Falopex in order to see you again? I’d want him to do it, if it was the literal only choice. But I’d be hurt. I’d be jealous. I’d be angry.

I can’t think about Abraxas right now and satisfy this urge. I definitely won’t think of Rurik. So how about I just get off to this?

I slip my hand beneath the water, closing my eyes and telling myself I don’t care that the prince is watching. That it means nothing. That he’s just going to have to deal with seeing what he sees because this is my life, and I’m going to do what I want, and … I open my eyes back up to watch the Falopex on the tablet, and as I pet and stroke my clit underwater, I think about Officer Hyt.

His finger sliding along the edge of his hat. His crooked, sharp-toothed smile. Those triple irises. The fact that he was clearly fucking around with me somehow. He’s either a skilled wordsmith or he’s a liar. But isn’t his blue color supposed to be the truth? I feel like that’s a lie, too. I imagine that he turned pink when he said things like ‘you’re not my problem’ and he meant the exact opposite.

Biting my lip, I dip a single finger inside my pussy, wishing Officer Hyt were here. I’d let him take that sucker at the tip of his cock, seal the hot slick surface over my clit, pop it off. Another moan breaks loose from my lying lips as I tell myself I don’t hear footsteps, that adding a second finger in is solely due to the result of my fantasy and not the prince’s pheromones.

Rurik drops heavily down to one knee beside the bath and snatches the tablet from me, throwing it across the room where it shatters on the floor. The loss of my Falopex smut doesn’t change a thing. I’m groaning and writhing, and I can feel him gritting his teeth beside me.

“This is …” He huffs out a breath, tugging off his gloves by the finger. “This is not appropriate.”

“Oh?” I murmur lazily, fucking myself as I stare at him. He looks up, striking me with those brilliant eyes. As always, I’m completely lost in him. I want him. He feels like he should belong to me. “It feels awfully appropriate to me.”

I do not expect him to climb into the bathtub with me, taking my hand in his naked grip and pressing his hot mouth to mine. Fire arcs through me, and I moan, my own cunt clamping down around my fingers in response. Rurik brackets my head and dives into my mouth, blood lace and tongue both. His thoughts pummel me in a hot wave.

Desire. Desperation. Loneliness. Joy. Disappointment. Loneliness. Despair. Desire. Desire. Desire.

I do my best to break the kiss so that I can talk, thin strands of lace on my tongue, connecting me to Rurik in the most bizarre but somehow beautiful way.

“Fuck me,” I say it and feel like a traitor. I say it and hate myself for it. I say it, and I want to cry. But if it’s going to happen anyway, I want it to be in private first. Avril told me earlier today that the mating ritual—the first act of a seven-part wedding—is done in view of the king and queen.

I can’t even imagine that. I don’t want to imagine that. It’s horrifying.

But this doesn’t have to be. Pheromones and a trick of biology it might be, but when I’m around the prince, he feels like my soulmate and literal reason for being. When I’m not around him, I mourn the loss of my sense of self and of Abraxas and the life we were supposed to have. The life I was willing to give up everything for.

“I cannot,” Rurik growls out, turning his head sharply. He grits his teeth so hard that I can hear the scrape of enamel. Or ivory. Or bone. Or whatever his alien vampire teeth are made out of. “Not until the first day of the wedding.”

“Please,” I beg, grabbing his hand and shoving it between my legs. While his middle and pointer finger are graced with long claws, he has other fingers with blunt tips. And his fingers? They’re much longer than my own.

Our eyes are locked as I push his ring and pinky finger into me, marveling at how familiar the shape of his hand is. He has five fingers like a man, but his skin is so oddly soft. Doesn’t bother me. I like it.

He exhales strangely as he looks down, blinking rapidly as his fingers disappear to the knuckle.

He takes my throat gently in his other hand and lowers his mouth to it, biting me and causing me to cry out. My hips arch, back bows, pussy squeezes. His lace digs into me, finding my heart, my brain, my soul, knowing and absorbing everything there is to know about me. My blood, singing. It’s singing to him and revealing all my secrets.

The orgasm is almost painful. I think I cry. And not just because it’s good, but because it’s sad, too. I’m still panting and shaking and fluttering prettily between my thighs when I grab him by the hair and yank him off of my neck. Blood drips down his face and mixes with the glittery red water from the bath bomb.

He is mad. Furious in a way that I’ve never seen.

“Get out,” I tell him, and he snaps his teeth together so hard that the clack reverberates in the dome-shaped room. I left all the lights off, relying only on the dim silver glow from a nearby star. It bathes his face in shades of arrogance, possession, and blinding despair.

“You cannot keep using me and tossing me aside when it suits you. I will not allow that.”

I splash him in the face, but he doesn’t let go. His hand is on the side of my neck, his other is buried inside of me.

“You took me away from my mate,” I grind out, feeling so horrifyingly hypocritical.

“No.” He fucks me hard with his hand, and my eyes roll back into my head. He stops again to whisper against my neck. “You took me away from my mate when you ran from me. Not once or twice but many times now. Stop running, princess.” He bites me again, and I come for a second time, writhing and thrusting against his fingers like a wild woman.

He kisses my throat and laps the last of the blood up with his long, curled red tongue. Like a butterfly. No. No. Like a moth.

Rurik doesn’t say anything else. He slips his fingers out of me, climbs from the tub, and snatches his gloves on the way. He leaves the bathroom via a door in the wall that I’ve never tried before, and disappears.

I’m still trembling when I climb out, snag another robe, and fall into bed.

“What the—” Avril says when she peers into the room and sees the shattered tablet. I catch the briefest glimpse of raised brows and a knowing half-smile before I turn away, squeeze my eyes shut, and will myself to sleep.