Chapter 8

Abraxas wakes before I do, taking great care to mark Officer Hyt’s space cruiser. And yeah, by mark, I mean he pisses on some stuff.

“Ah fuck, Dead Kings save me,” Hyt is groaning, using his hands to yank down both sides of his cowboy hat. It’s a white one today, with a gold band. Very fancy. I watch him from the doorway to his quarters, bleary-eyed and rubbing at my face with a sleepy hand. He spots me there, dressed in that leather strap and belt again, and all six pupils of his rake me up and down in a flash before he gathers his wits. “I arrange an illicit meetup for the pair of you, and this is how you repay me?”

“Next time you consider laying hands on my female, I beg you think of this moment.” Abraxas remains unapologetic, moving over to me on all fours. I drop my hand to my side as I look up at him. The moment feels so lighthearted, almost cute in a way, but … it isn’t going to last. “You are going to leak salt drops for me.” He grasps my face with his wing-hands, dragging his thumbs under my eyes. I haven’t started crying. Yet. I’m not going to.

Not until he’s out of sight.

For now, I’m going to hold it together. I’m the one that’s going to mate and marry another guy today. The thought rips me in half. There are two Eves: the one who wants Rurik so badly that she’d give her life just to taste him. And there’s the Eve who’d kill the universe to run away with Abraxas.

Officer Hyt stares at the two of us, like he’s trying to commit something about our interaction to memory.

“We’ll see each other again in seven days, right?” I look past Abraxas to Officer Hyt. “I know you don’t have to help us, but …”

“But I’m a dumb fucker who’ll do it anyway?” He smiles as he says it, using a tentacle to shove his companion beneath his hat when it tries to escape. “Are you still running or have you gone sweet on the lonely prince?”

That makes me laugh. Because that’s exactly what he is. Rurik is the lonely prince trope.

I rake my lip under my teeth and Abraxas catches my chin with his hand, drawing my attention back to him. I look at him, but I address my next question to Officer Hyt.

“How long between our wedding and Rurik taking the throne?”

There’s a ring, like a doorbell sounding off. Hyt hits a button, and the door swishes open to reveal Rurik.

I don’t look at him, but I can feel him. I can smell him. He’s a presence in my soul that I can’t seem to shake. I repeat my question.

“How long between our wedding and you becoming king?”

He doesn’t have to think long on that, adjusting his gloves and glancing over at Hyt, as if he’s an easier person to look at than Abraxas with his hands all over me.

“Not long. After the seventh and final day of the ceremony, perhaps weeks.” Another pause, a softer tone. I find myself feeling like maybe I missed the sound of his voice last night. “Perhaps only a few Earthen days.”

“That quick, huh?” I ask, and Rurik laughs. It’s such a strange, bitter sound that I wonder for a second if maybe the translator fucked it up.

“My parents are eager to retire,” he explains simply, and though the words ring true, a strangeness settles in the air. Rurik’s father, sitting on that throne, blood lace on his legs and arms. I shove the thought down. “You will not have to wait long, my princess.”

I gently pull Abraxas’ hands down from my face, and he lets me. I look directly at Rurik, but he won’t meet my gaze for whatever reason.

“Hyt’s going to arrange for me to see Abraxas on the last day of the wedding. Is that possible?”

Rurik’s lip curls, flashing vampire teeth. Abraxas growls right back at him.

“It will be difficult, but it can be done.” The prince finally turns to look at me, but now it’s my turn to avoid his gaze. I don’t need any of that insta-love, soulmate, searched-the-stars for you shit when Abraxas is around. It’s not fair. He earned my love, and I gave it freely and without coercion. I don’t need chemical processes making decisions for me. “Can you not simply wait until I am king?”

“If we are separated, we will die of broken hearts,” Abraxas is furious now, his spikes standing on end, his scales raised. He turns to look at Rurik, shadows blurring the edges of his form. The claws in his knuckles extend as he thrashes his tail and knocks some of Hyt’s things off a shelf. Hyt groans and mutters curses under his breath, using all nine tentacles to quickly collect and redeposit the items. I wonder if they don’t come loose during flight? “She has been fainting, no?”

Rurik looks sharply at Abraxas, yanking on the finger of his glove.

“She has been. Do you know why? Is she pregnant?”

Abraxas’ laughter is otherworldly, a sound that I can only describe as that feeling you get when you’re walking in the dark and it seems like someone is following just behind and out of sight. I shiver.

“She is seeded, yes. But that is not the cause of her illness. We must see one another, and we must mate or she will die.” His smile fades away as Hyt leans back against the wall, watching me and not the other two males. The way he looks at me, it’s with a sad resignation, like maybe we could’ve had something but never will. I feel the same way. I liked him instantly in a way I’ve never felt toward anyone else, like I had a friend for life at first greeting. “I am worried that a week will be too long.”

Rurik finally just gives in and pulls a glove off so that he can slap it against the palm of his other hand in thought.

“Once we have landed on Dome, you may be able to bring him in.” Rurik looks to Officer Hyt. “You will need to dock somewhere that my parents will not see, and come to us over the land. We will remain on The Korol for two days before then.”

Holy shit. He’s just agreeing to this? I expected a fight.

“I accept this arrangement,” Abraxas declares, as if he is the one who’s in charge of all this. The truth of it? I’m not in charge. Officer Hyt isn’t in charge. Even Abraxas isn’t in charge. It’s the prince. This all comes down to the motherfucking prince. My lonely prince.

“Do you know why she fades the way she does? If you can explain it, perhaps we can solve it.”

Abraxas snaps his teeth at Rurik’s words.

“There is no solution, you foolish Vestalis star-traveler. We are mated, and this is a condition of our bond to one another. You cannot fix it. You cannot use your magic science machines to whittle it away. What you will do is accept that there are some things that can’t be explained or controlled.”

“If we had Cartian tech, we might be able to figure it out,” Hyt murmurs under his breath, and Rurik closes his eyes, like he’s trying to gather his temper together. I don’t blame him. I’m supposed to be his promised once-in-a-lifetime soulmate, and it’s all fucked up.

“You will not want for each other,” Rurik promises with another sigh. He sounds exhausted, and that upsets me. This is supposed to be our wedding day, but … This time, when he lifts his black eyes to mine, I allow myself to fall into them. My heart pounds, my palms sweat, and an ache hits me right in the soul. Poor Rurik. He forces a tight smile. “We must go, my princess. Today, of all days, it would not do to arrive late.”

It’s time. It’s happening. I have to go. I have to let Abraxas go. I—

“Female.” He moves in front of me, blocking my view of the other males. He takes my face with his hands, wing-hands on my hips. “There is a phrase that my mother passed down to me. It came from her mother and many mothers before that. Wherever you be, I am. Remember that when you are alone or afraid, know that I will always come for you.”

His tongue takes my mouth, dominating my throat and obliterating any murmurs of fear, crushing any protests. Separating from him then is the hardest thing that I have ever done.

“I love you; I chose you. Remember that.” I offer him a chaste kiss on the cheek, and then I dart past and into the hallway before I can think better of it. Rurik joins me, lifting his gaze to mine, but I can’t deal with his stare just now. I turn away, heading in the direction that I think we’re supposed to be going.

I must be right because he doesn’t stop me.

I swipe the tears from my face as we stride down the hallway together. Fuck. I can’t resist peering over my shoulder, at the closed door of Officer Hyt’s police cruiser. I can’t see Abraxas anymore, but I can smell him. I can feel him. A mournful howl fills the hallways, and my body breaks into goose bumps. Run. Get back to him. Do whatever it takes. Primal instincts flare inside of me that I wasn’t even sure I had, but I know better.

I know that I can’t go back.

“Truly,” Rurik begins, eyes closed as he stands still beside me, waiting for me to overcome the urge. “I am sorry, my princess.” His eyes open, and he looks at me, and even though I can hear Abraxas’ desperate howling, I’m not sorry to be marrying the Vestalis prince today. I’m only sorry that Abraxas can’t be with me, that I won’t be seeing him again for another week. That’s the only thing I’m sorry about.

I don’t respond, and we continue on, returning back to the embassy when I assumed we were headed for the ship.

Zero, Avril, and Connor are in the sitting area, gathered around a small table and learning some game that comes with glowing dice. It’s obvious to me right away that Zero is cheating by the smirk on her pretty face.

“I’m not sure that I understand the rules,” Connor hedges, pushing his glasses up his nose.

All three of them pause when we enter the room, and all three of them rise to their feet to bow.

There must be something truly tragic on my face because nobody offers up a smart remark.

“The princess and I will not be disturbed. You will wait here for us to return.” He takes me by the arm and leads me toward the bedroom as Avril throws me a what the fuck happened last night? look that I purposely ignore.

We enter the bedroom, and the door swishes shut behind us.

“Please go bathe yourself,” Rurik tells me, stepping up close behind me. He puts both of his hands on my upper arms, his lips near my neck. I shiver all over, but he doesn’t pursue the moment any further, releasing my arms and stepping away. He turns to look at me, and his expression is contemplative, somewhat resigned. But in those dark eyes of his? There’s a feral excitement that I know must be reflected in my own.

There’s no getting out of this.

I was honest with Abraxas.

I want to mate with Rurik.

It’s time to roll with the moment.

“Okay.”

I don’t argue. I head into the bathroom and the door shuts behind me, leaving me alone in a hothouse filled with exotic plants and tubs of steaming water. I pick one of the tubs at random, strip down, and climb in, soaking myself in the sweet-smelling liquid and closing my eyes.

This is it.

Today’s the day.

I just hope his parents don’t eat us.

I wash Abraxas’ scent off my skin—I’m sure that’s what Rurik meant by sending me in here—and though the moment is bittersweet, I hold it together. No way in hell I’m letting the creepy galactic millipede queen know about my mate. This is my chance to protect him.

When I’ve finished washing—five times over and I swear that I can still smell musk—I climb out and dry off with a silken drying cloth that’s folded and waiting nearby. I wrap the crimson silk around myself and exit the room.

Rurik is sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, eyes closed. He doesn’t react to my presence, but surely he knows I’m standing here? I shift uncomfortably, feeling like I should probably say something. The room we’re in is deceptively lovely, wood paneling and dark green walls and a fireplace. It could be in an English manor and not a space station. Well, minus the ugly metal door, the wall panel beside it, and the paper-thin tablet on the desk.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” I tell him, and he finally lifts his head to look at me. Gazes lock. I drift and spin and fall into his eyes, catching my breath, an ache growing in my chest. “I don’t want our feelings to be born out of some stupid chemicals that neither of us can control. How fair is that?” I move into the room and come over to sit beside him on the bed.

Huge mistake.

Heat catches, flares across my skin at a simple look from him. My sore cunt promises she’s not so sore anymore, that she wants Rurik as much as she wants Abraxas. I look down at the floor, wiggling my toes against the carpet as I try to get my emotions under control. Rurik follows my attention and makes a small sigh of pleasure.

“I quite like your feet,” he tells me, and I remember that his feet don’t have toes, just that single claw at the end. “Your digits are appealing and sweet.”

“I …” My voice trails off, but I need to say this so he can understand it. “Doesn’t it bother you? Your mannerisms shifted to fit mine. Your body morphed to match my wants. Where are you in all of this? It’s not right that you should lose your sense of self because of me.”

Rurik keeps his attention on my toes.

“I have entertained these thoughts myself,” he admits, sighing as his feeler drifts down and slides over my hair, like he just can’t help himself. I reach up and grab it, fingers curled around the ivory length, the black hairs underneath tickling my fingers. He grits his teeth at me, hands clenching into fists. “I do not know if my personality will change to your liking. As of now, it remains as it’s always been.”

That makes me smile.

“So you’ve always been a pompous dick?” It’s a silly question, meant more as a joke than anything else. Actually, he’s been accommodating and rather … sweet. I’m the one causing trouble here. “I want us to like each other for who we are, for us to actually get to know and care about each other.”

He shudders as I release his feeler. I look down at my palm, and it’s slightly shimmery, oddly silken, like it’s covered with a fine, invisible powder. I stand up and turn to face Rurik, dropping the silk cloth to the floor. He hisses and then catches himself, turning away to stare at the wall, fingers digging into the blankets on the bed.

“You do not understand how tempting an offer you make,” he warns, but I do. We’re stuck together for life, me and him. I might be with Abraxas, but Rurik needs to eat. He needs to rule the Noctuida in an entirely different way than his father does. Really, it feels like there is some star-crossed fate shit going on because I doubt there’s a more honorable soul in all of the Vestalis. Frankly, it sounds like his species is, overall, sort of … shitty. I can relate: I’m a human being, remember?

Every once in a while, there’s an extraordinary human. That’s what Rurik is, a rare gem in a storm of shit. Most Vestalis—like most people—are probably unremarkable, mildly selfish, but not uncaring. Some are evil. I think his parents are evil. They must be if they blew up a species like the Cartians, an entire planet full of people who gently study living creatures in their natural habitats, craft chunky hot pink headsets and bubblegum colored space suits, who drive glowing bikes and soak in clawfoot bathtubs.

“I can never not be Abraxas’ mate. I love him. I chose him first. I’ve always thought monogamy works best when it comes to love, but … this is where we’re at. I’m willing to try to be your … princess. Your queen.” I exhale. I know what I was grieving, and it wasn’t Abraxas’ absence. I mean, it was, but I did believe Rurik when he told me that I’d get to see my mate again.

I was grieving the loss of that possible life on Jungryuk.

But I can’t just stand here with the opportunities given to me and do nothing with them. That’s how I started my business. It was an accidental thing. I stumbled into it. I rolled with it. I made myself successful, grew from an amateur hobbyist to a business owner.

If the Queen of the Noctuida has the power to fix all of this fucked-up shit, then I’d be an idiot not to take it. Besides, I like the idea of it. Who wouldn’t want to be queen? It was never about that at all.

Rurik rises to his feet in front of me, reaching out with his bare fingers and smoothing my hair back from my shoulder. He takes note of where Abraxas bit me, and his pretty mouth turns down into an irresistible frown. I want to kiss him. But I don’t because I want to see what he’s planning on doing. I stand up, too, our toes touching, mine bare, his booted.

“Are you ready?” he asks me, still staring at my neck. With his eyes, as dark as they are, one might think it’d be hard to pinpoint where he was looking. But I always know. It’s surprisingly easy to tell. “Today is going to be a challenge. Your lady-in-waiting is a useless waste of good oxygen, so there may be aspects as to which you should’ve been informed but were not.” He skims his bare fingers over my arms, and I shiver. Now he’s looking at my breasts, and there’s a hunger in him that I’ve only ever seen in Abraxas … and myself. And maybe Officer Hyt, but that’s neither here nor there.

“I’m ready.” I relax into his touch, and he sighs, that strange nocturnal whisper in his own language. I hear both the translated version, and the real one.

Rurik and I give into each other.

If I’d thought we’d done it before, slipped up here and there, I was wrong.

This time, without my guard up, without his guard up, it’s a completely different experience.

A groan slips out of me, and I lean into him, my naked body against his uniform. He’s wearing a different one today: long white coat, red buttons in the shape of droplets, a black belt and slacks and boots with gold buckles. I catch sight of epaulets on his shoulders before he drops his lips to my neck, whispering teeth and tongue against my skin.

His bite is hard, fierce, a possessive claiming that morphs easily into wild pleasure. I let my head fall back, allowing him to mold me to him. What good are these adaptations of his, the ones that are tailor-made for me, if I don’t allow myself to appreciate them?

The blood lace unfurls from his tongue and dives straight through me, grabbing hold of my heart from the inside. His left arm envelops the slenderest part of my waist while his right hand digs deeply into my hair. His wings ruffle, and the sweet smell of him—cardamom and honey, as always—soaks the room.

We’re ready. Only we can save each other. We have reason to fear. We have reason to rejoice.

“Fuck me now,” I murmur, slurring the words, tightening the tension in the room so that it becomes unbearable. “Do it here. In private. Right now.”

Rurik makes a sound of frustration, withdrawing the threads from my neck and pulling back so he can look at me with a bloodied ruby jewel of a mouth. I trace my finger across that ripe fruit, exhaling violently when he bites down on it. A single fang pierces my skin, and dizziness sweeps me. Not the same kind that knocked me on my ass yesterday, but one crafted of desire and impossible longing.

“If that act would not result in physical torture at the hands of my parents, I would grant you your request.” He shudders and jerks me tightly against him, holding me in his arms, smearing blood across my ear when he whispers into it. “I will not allow you to be hurt. Not by my parents. Not by my own hand. Not even by yours.”

He kisses my neck, right over the wound he just made, and then draws his tongue down to my clavicle. As he goes, I see those glowing red strands spread across my skin. Hot veins trace over my body as he licks me, laving my flesh with a ready-made bloodred lace. His hands are warm against my lower back as he works, taking great care to leave no part of my skin untouched.

Is he … what is he doing?

He draws his fervid tongue to my breast, sucking my nipple into his mouth. As he does that, he turns the pair of us so that his back is to the bed. Rurik drops his body onto the edge of the mattress, but leaves me standing between his spread thighs. The blood lace is on my skin, but it’s inside of me, too. It burrows itself into my soul, humming and pulsing and throbbing. I can feel Rurik as if we’re already having sex, as if he’s already in my body and ravaging it. You are my only concern. Nothing else matters. I have never had anything else. You are the first person that is mine. You are the first person who has wanted me to be yours. His thoughts.

An embarrassing groan rips from me as I dig my fingers into his soft hair. I haven’t allowed myself to touch much of him before, so it’s all new to me. I’m stunned by the silken nature of it, sliding my fingers into the virgin white. His hair is beautiful, falling around the sides of his face, down his back and between his wings. But really, it’s not hair at all. It’s fur. It’s like a mane, and I love it. I’m tugging him against my breasts as he licks me all over, dropping his face down to my navel.

He knows me as well as I know him now, like we’ve been together forever, like we’re both made of the same stardust.

I can’t wait to feel you inside of me. I want to know what you look like when you’re falling apart, when you’re climaxing. I want to know every part of you and how it differs from every part of me. I want to see what you can do with raw, unchecked power. My thoughts.

Rurik draws me down to the bed, covering me with his body. His tongue never breaks contact with my skin, skirting my cunt and sliding over my legs, drawing back up to my hips, turning me slowly onto my belly so that he can nip the curve of my back. He pays extra special attention to my ass cheeks, kneading and squeezing them as he slides his wet tongue over the pale mounds.

I’m rolled onto my back once more, and it occurs to me that he’s … making a cocoon of me? Bathing me in bloody red lace. It’s a strange thought. But then I finally break through my daze and realize that a dress is forming around me.

A dress made of delicate, fine red lace. Warm red lace. Lace that thrums with Rurik’s heat and energy.

He looks up at me from the unbroken black of eyes.

And then he drops his mouth to my cunt.

It’s just a tease, a firm strike of his tongue to my folds and clit, and he’s moving on, but it’s enough to bow my back, to curse my hands into claws that dig into the blankets in a scramble. I stare up at the wood-paneled ceiling because I can’t bear to look at him and still remember what it means to breathe.

Rurik continues his work, ending with a bloody kiss that should freak me out but doesn’t.

“What did you …?” I start, trying to sit up. He gently pushes me back, lifting both palms to his lips. I watch in fascination as he licks them, summoning more of those veins from his palms. And then he works with his hands, touching the lace that’s on my body and drawing it out, creating a dress with his fingers and my blood, his blood, and a careful attention to detail.

The room is silent but for my own heavy panting.

When he finishes, using his nails to separate the lace from his palms, as if he’s cutting silk thread from a spool, I push up to my elbows and find that I’ve got a high-necked red lace gown that’s entirely see-through. My plump pussy is exposed through the fabric. My nipples are visible. But the dress itself? It’s beautiful, if not a little strange. It’s connected to me in places, like the lace itself digs into my skin. I can feel it pulling here and there, but it doesn’t hurt.

If anything, it makes me want Rurik all the more.

“This will hide the Aspis’ scent from the king and queen,” he murmurs, and I notice he doesn’t call them his parents this time. I sit up and grab onto his horns. Feelers. Fuck. Whatever they are. He grits his teeth and turns suddenly toward me, pushing me back onto the bed. He kisses me again, hips surging between my legs, and I gasp, a sound that he eats as quickly as it escapes. His hand is hitching up beneath the hot threads of the dress when—

A sound fills the room, like clanging bells, and pure, unfiltered rage flickers over Rurik’s face. He narrows his eyes and grits his teeth again, drawing away from me suddenly. But I don’t feel cold. I feel like he’s all around me. Like he’s holding me even though he’s not.

He shoves up to his feet and hits the panel beside the door.

“This had better be fucking important,” he snaps at Avril, and I almost feel sorry for her when she flinches.

“I know that you’re not due back for a few hours yet, but your parents …” She trails off and spreads her hands helplessly. Rurik steps back and hits a button, and the door slams shut.

He turns to look at me with a deep resolve in his eyes.

“You are supposed to be nude for the mating ritual, but for now, you must wear this dress until you are fully permeated with my scent. The king and queen cannot ever know that you mated another male or would wish to mate another male.”

I nod, putting my feet on the floor off the side of the bed. When I stand up and turn toward the tall mirror opposite the armoire, I gasp, hands flying to my mouth. The dress itself is a Gothic dream, high-necked and impossibly delicate. A ruffled collar at the throat, a tight tuck at the waist, a flared skirt that trails on the floor behind me. The entire thing shimmers with heat and energy, gently luminescing in a way that reminds me of Abraxas.

It’s beautiful. It’s strange. It’s—

“See-through,” I say, peering at my very obvious bits showing through the design. “Nothing is left to the imagination.”

Rurik opens the armoire and grabs a beautiful white cloak, stepping up behind me and throwing it over my shoulders. It has a red fur clasp at the neck that mimics his natural form. When he puts his arms around my waist from behind, I find myself looking back at our combined reflection in wonder.

Where my skin is a soft, gentle peach color with a hint of pink, his is the absolute absence of color. He’s as white as oblivion, like fresh milk or saltwater pearls or sculptures in alabaster.

“Did you hear me, princess? You are due to be naked for the remainder of the day. This is a good turn for you.” He spins me around, brackets my face, and brings his tongue to my skin again. My hands lock his wrists and my eyes close. When I open them again, I can feel something on my face, but I can’t see it. “I do not wish to share your nakedness with others either, but today, you and I are partners fighting against a fate we cannot stop nor see, but must endure all the same.” He lets me turn around to see his handiwork, and I find myself in a blood lace masquerade mask.

Wow.

Fuck.

“Shoes?” I whisper, secretly hoping, I guess, that he might lavish my feet with attention, too. He grabs a pair of red silken slippers from the armoire and helps me to get them on.

When he stands up suddenly and looks down at me, I’m lost to him completely.

“Throughout this next week, whenever you are scared or confused, angry or in pain, I want you to turn to me. Take solace in me. In all of this, I am your ally and your companion, your lover and your mate.” He presses a bare hand to my cheek before stepping back and offering his arm.

With one last swallow of apprehension, I reach out and take it.