Chapter 8

eight

. . .

Thundar

She lied to me. She drakking lied to me. I liberated her and she lied to me.

I don't know what to do, what to say, how to look at her. All I know is I need to be away from her orbit. Because when I'm with her I can't think or act straight. And in this situation, I need my wits about me. Especially if I'm going to figure out what I'm going to do with her.

"Your brutal—" Hailar starts when he sees me storm out of my quarters on the ship.

"You! How could you steal the wrong woman? It's your drakking fault," I shout in his face.

If he'd grabbed the right woman, we wouldn't be in this mess now, would we? I wouldn't have met Lottie or kissed her or drakked her and everything would be right with the world.

"Your—"

"Not another word out of you unless you want to be thrown in the pits of Lorex."

It doesn't take him long to figure out what I'm talking about and to realize his mistake. And to make up for his drak-up, I tell him to escort Lottie out and into a room far, far away from me while I think and decide, both her fate and mine.

But think, I do not, when I'm dragged into meetings as soon as I set foot on Aysgoth. The royal council is ravenous for a report on my liberation, my liberated, and our betrothal. To them, all that matters is that we seal the deal so that I can claim my rightful throne and lead my people.

So I have no choice but to answer their questions.

Was the mission successful? Yes.

Did I liberate a bride? Yes.

Did I isolate my bride for five days and five nights as per tradition? Yes. Kind of. They don't need to know about our little after-dark escape.

"And did you saturate your bride with your royal seed?"

By land and sea, what kind of question is that?

I knew the questions wouldn't be a stroll through the snow but do they really need to know if I've drakked her, how many times, in what positions, and how much of my "royal seed" I've filled her with?

Apparently, they do, as the questions get more and more personal. The more I'm expected to answer, the more I think about her, about my Lottie, and all the names she's called me and my people since I met her. Why does she have to be so right, though?

Because we are barbarians. We are brutes. And most of all, we are prisoners of our traditions.

I understand why once upon a time they may have needed to know all these details in order to determine whether a marriage was consummated and whether the child was truly the king's heir, but our technology and education have advanced far enough that we don't need all this antiquated intrusion to determine anything.

I have half a mind to blast it all, blast the whole council and go, run away with my Lottie, far away from here, but my father… he's old. He needs his retirement and I promised him I'd claim my throne before long.

"I take it the meeting didn't go well?" Mother asks me when the room is clear and I'm still sitting at the table.

"It went fine," I grumble.

"Carix, don't forget I know you better than you know yourself," she says, putting her hand on my shoulder, the act making me turn to look her in the eyes.

"I'm not five anymore, Mother. When will you stop calling me Carix?"

She glowers at me and squeezes me as she answers "I'll call you my carix even when you have your own carix and when you're old and weak and half the brute you are now."

I groan.

"I'm sure I can get you executed for such a crime," I tell her, matching her glower but despite being a man and far scarier, she doesn't flinch.

"I'll call the executioner myself."

Gods, I love my mother. I know it's not proper as a man to speak such things out loud, especially as a future king, but it doesn't hurt to admit it to myself. And it's true. She knows me better than I know myself. And even though I hate it when she calls me by the same pet name she's used since I was a babe, it does bring me some comfort. One day, in the far—far distant future hopefully—she won't be around to call me anything. So I'll take it for as long as I can.

"If I knew how much of a headache this liberation was going to be, I would have reconsidered." I relax my face and my shoulders and let out a loud sigh.

"I wouldn't know since I'm not allowed in these meetings."

I turn and stare at her.

"Mother, they wanted to know how much I ejaculated. In milliliters. As if I'm… supposed to measure it somehow. And what the hell are milliliters?"

Mother creases her face.

"Gods, that doesn't sound pleasant at all."

"You think?" I raise an eyebrow.

Mother mimics me as she asks: "So… did you? Perform your… duties a lot this week?"

Oh drak.

Did I actually just speak to my mother about ejaculation? My head must really be spinning out of control if I forgot myself so easily.

"I apologize," I tell her and make to get up, but her hand on my shoulder keeps me firmly in place.

"I know you're desperate to be done with this whole thing," she says, "but can you not find any grace in your intended?"

Lottie comes to the front of my mind—if she ever left it in the first place—and I catch my breath. Up until she told me who she really was, I would have told Mother that I could find more than enough grace for Lottie. That I looked forward to providing for her and to being her husband and king.

She is more than I could have hoped for. She is kind and sweet. She is beautiful beyond compare. And she is opinionated, as frustrating as that was in the beginning. She is unlike any woman I've ever met.

And her kisses?

Oh the shadows of them, of her feel all over my body, the feel of me inside her body was so much more than I could have ever imagined.

She is one of a kind.

"No," I answer my mother and shake my head, hoping Lottie will clear from my thoughts. And she does. Momentarily.

"I see." Mother takes a deep breath and looks to the royal crest carved into the wall.

A tightness forms in my throat. It's like poison. Like acid that wants to burn me, burn my words, my rejection.

"Well, there are solutions. If your bride is not agreeable." I turn to look at Mother and she purses her lips before she continues. "As long as you sire an heir, you can send her to the Convent of Ays. She can have her freedom and you yours."

I grimace.

"Force her into nunhood?" If my throat felt toxic before, it's positively radioactive now.

I can't imagine committing such a crime to Lottie. Forcing her to dedicate her days to celibacy and our Gods. Forcing me to live apart from her. Apart from her eyes, her lips, her breasts, her flesh.

I can't stomach the idea. I can't fathom ever doing such a thing. Yes, she lied to me but she doesn't deserve that. I don't deserve it either.

Spending all those days by her side, I dared to dream. To think being married wouldn't be so bad. That, in fact, it can be absolute bliss. That I can have her and she can have me, without obstructions, without limits, for the rest of our lives. That it is possible to… to find absolution in her heaven.

"No," I say, sharply.

My tone makes Mother jump, but before she can inquire further, the doors swing open and Lottie storms in, all red and flustered.

"You big, fucking idiot! Do I mean nothing to you? Do the past few days mean nothing to you? You abduct me from my planet, lock me up in a room, force me into marriage and I said nothing?—"

"Well, not nothing." I rise from my seat just as Lottie smashes her hand to my chest, pushing me back.

"Don't interrupt me! Despite everything, I gave myself to you. I allowed you to touch me, to kiss me, to fall for me..."

She allowed me to fall for her? Who does she think she is to make such a claim?

"And I allowed myself to fall for you and the minute I tell you the truth, you forget all about me? Huh? What is wrong with you? Do I only mean something as long as I'm a princess? Huh? And what did you expect me to do? To let a bunch of brutes abduct a Crown Princess and cause an international, interplanetary crisis?"

Interplanetary? That's laughable at best. Earth couldn't hurt an alien fly if they tried.

"I was doing my job and protecting my boss. If you can't understand that then you really are the biggest asshole I have ever met, and trust me, coming from a human woman, that says a lot considering all the asshole men our world is littered with."

She keeps slamming her hand on my chest and although it barely registers, the impact of her touch paired with her words feels like a punch in the gut each time.

I try to focus on that, that movement, and not her face, her eyes, her gorgeous pink lips. I try to focus on her hand and not how drakking sexy she looks when she's angry. How absolutely feral. And how terribly hard this whole outburst makes me.

"Well? Are you going to say something? Asshole?" she huffs when I don't respond to her.

"I take it this is your bride?" Mother says and Lottie seems to realize there's another person in the room and turns to her.

"And who the hell are you?" she snaps.

"I'm the asshole that birthed him." Mother smirks.

Lottie's eyes go wide and presses her lips together, taking a step back from both me and my mother.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I?—"

"Sorry? For what, dear? For telling this thick-headed son of mine what an idiot he is? I think I'd rather get in line."

Lottie's pressed lips turn into a smile and she glances at me.

"Do you have nothing to say?" She slaps me again, which is when the guards enter the room as does the royal council I had just managed to escape from.

I turn to Lottie and clear my throat, straightening up.

"You're correct," I say.

"What? Speak up." She slaps me again.

The high priest steps forward and all but growls at Lottie.

"Who is this woman? Seize her at once. She means to harm His Brutal Highness."

The guards jump into action but stop in their tracks when I snarl in their direction.

"This woman is my bride and no one is touching her."

The high priest grimaces.

"She laid a hand on you, Your Highness. She needs to be punished."

I growl. Specifically, at him this time.

"The only one who needs to be punished is me." I turn to Lottie and reach for her hand. I fully expect her to pull away from me but she allows me the contact. "You're correct, my queen. I am an asshole."

She runs her tongue along her teeth and hums in agreement. I tug at her hand, pulling her closer and her composure flickers for a moment, when her body collides with mine. As if it's hard to stay mad at me when she's so close.

I hope I'm right. But even if I'm not...

"I thought I needed a royal to prove my place. I thought I needed someone who holds a position of power as my match. Someone who knows what it's like being a leader?—"

She snorts. "Huh. If you think Princess Alexandra has any real power you're sorely mistaken."

I shake my head.

"I don't care about Princess Alexandra." I stare at her, deep into her gorgeous brown eyes that shine like a beacon. A beacon calling me home.

"I thought she was Princess Alexandra," someone says.

"She's not, dear. Do catch up," Mother responds before shushing the room.

"I thought I needed all that when I decided to liberate a human." Lottie opens her mouth and I shut it with my palm over her lips. Then I correct myself. "Abduct a human. I thought I needed all that, but… I just needed you. I'm sorry, Lottie. I'm sorry for getting angry at you, for freezing you out, for leaving you alone all day. I..."

"A future king? Apologizing to a woman? Preposterous," the high priest exclaims and Lottie's glare darts in his direction.

Before I can uncover her mouth, she unleashes on the man I've loathed for my entire life.

"Mifu finkur zobi gan?—"

I quickly remove my hand. I definitely want to hear how she'll tear apart the stodgy old man. "I apologize. If you wouldn't mind starting from the beginning?" I give her the floor with a small, almost gleeful bow. This is going to be good.

She turns to the high priest, eyes blazing with fire. "You think you're so big and strong, don't you, you pig of a man? Well, news flash. You don't scare me. Not even a little bit. If you listened to a woman every once in a while you wouldn't all be slaves to your past. You wouldn't have to abduct a woman just to find a wife. You wouldn't end up traditioning yourselves into extinction! Thundar is going to drag your sorry, pathetic hides into the twenty-first–or whatever–century. He's going to make changes that will truly ‘liberate' the women of your society. He's going to be a fucking amazing king and I'm going to be right beside him the entire time."

The room is silent when Lottie finishes. I'll be the first to admit that I didn't understand everything she said, but the royal council would have to be dumber than I thought if they didn't understand her tone.

The high priest gapes like a sea creature and looks to his peers for support. They are all equally stunned. I don't think a woman has ever addressed the royal council in quite such a brutish manner–not even Mother. If she was a man, they would be nominating her to be the next king. But since they are a group of backward-facing, out-of-touch old men, they will be anything but impressed.

"For Gods' sake, Tartax," I call out to the high priest. "If you tighten your fists any harder you'll give yourself a heart attack."

Lottie turns to me and I look at her. I can't not look at her when she's the brightest, most beautiful light in the room. In any room, really.

It doesn't matter that she's the smallest person in the room, or that her normally pink skin has gone oddly pale, or that she doesn't have the first clue about our customs. In fact, it's all of those things that make her the most important person in my life.

"What?" she asks when I'm silent for several long moments.

"I'm sorry," I apologize again and she bites her lip.

"You said that already. Do you mean it?"

"I do." I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss her knuckles. Then her wrist. Then her arm. I don't stop until I reach her neck. "I do. I mean it all. I love you with all my heart. I love you, Lottie."

I pull away and rest my forehead against hers.

"It's Charlotte. Charlotte Kingsley," she murmurs, her breath warm on my face, her sweet scent permeating the air around me, making my hairs stand on end.

"I love you, Charlotte Kinglsey. And let the whole council hear this. I love Charlotte Kingsley. She's my bride. My queen. My everything. And no harm shall ever befall her as Gods are my witnesses."

The royal council can do nothing but watch. Watch and accept my claim, because I'm their future king and I will rip every single one of them apart before I let any one of them touch her.

When I look back down at her, her lips are quirked up into a smile and her lashes fall heavy over her eyes.

"Do you mean it?" she whispers.

"With all my being."

She nods, licks her lips, and takes a deep breath.

"I… I love you too, Thundar. More than anyone I've ever loved before."

I put my hand around her, on the back of her neck, and press her to me, press her lips to mine, reacquainting my tongue with her sweet, decadent taste.

It never mattered who she was. It was just my pride getting in the way of my heart. But I won't let that mistake happen ever again.

Being away from her for an entire day was painful enough. I can't imagine an eternity.