Hero's Bride (Alien SciFi Romance) (Celestial Mates Book 7)

by C. J. Scarlett

  The bed in the middle of the large, stone-carven room was covered in woven blankets. A prone form lay among them, arms stretched out spread eagle. Khofti and I had made the blankets together. That was how the Kamani did things—together. I jumped on top of the bed. Khofti groaned.

  “What are you doing in bed at this hour?” I asked him. “It’s day out.”

  “Resting for the festival,” he replied. “I have been up all day.”

  “Eating,” I accused, poking his flat stomach. “You eat so much.”

  “I am a large bear.”

  “And a tiny Kamani,” I teased.

  “Let’s rest,” he said, stretching out his large form.

  “Not anymore,” I said, wrapping my leg around him so that I sat astride him. I leaned over him. My hair, still a little on the short side, but well on its way to growing out, made a curtain about our faces. I kissed him, and he groaned again. His groans soon vanished, making their way over to pleasure-filled moans as my hand found its way inside his jumpsuit.

  He reached up, helping me off with my layers of clothing. After an awkward shuffling to get them off, he ran his large, flat palms over my skin, raising goosebumps where his hands touched. I moaned deliciously, letting my head roll back. His hands stopped at my hips, grasping them tightly. I looked down at him questioningly as he sat up, flipping me over in one fluid motion. I pushed his jumpsuit all the way off his broad shoulders. He smiled at me, taking me with his next breath.

  I inhaled as he filled me. Placing my hand on his lower back, I rocked my hips upward to meet his as he surged over me. His skin was hot and smooth against mine. Our breathing came out in sync—heavy, full breaths. I felt our connection—it ran deep, connecting our souls. If I closed my eyes, I could see all the constellations that made up my mate. I could see all his grief, as well as the depth of his current joy.

  I could feel the heat building with my orgasm. He moved slowly, his eyes watching as I took my pleasure. He was careful, always cautious. He made sure that I was taken care of. As I cried out, my body rocked by the waves of endorphins crashing through my veins, he surged back and forth. It brought me back to him, my focus centering as my body responded to his. I placed my hands on the small of his back, rocking my hips so that his thrusts were deeper.

  I looked up to the twin wheels of gold staring into mine. I could feel his heartbeat, his strong pulse at each point where his body intersected with my own. I thought about how much my life had changed. I was a different person now—an alien species to the person who had started this journey. It had been terrifying, and nothing had come easy—I had to fight, not just to save myself, but to be with Khofti. If I ever saw an Ak-hal walking free, it would be too soon.

  “Love me?” I asked, reaching up to softly caress his cheek.

  “Forever,” he replied. We remained, wrapped up together in our own world, where we could hear the sounds of the Kamani outside, finishing their preparations for the holy day. We could hear the sounds of many voices. We remained in our rooms, through the ceremonies, when we could hear the music outside the ice caves. We could hear the sound and swell of the voices of the Kamani, singing to their gods in thanks for all that they had been gifted. They were the sounds of happiness—distant cries, like the calls of free birds, their cages open. Or even, and perhaps, better yet, cages which had never existed.

  Bonus Series 1

  Ice Planet BarBEARians (Book 2)

  C.J. Scarlett

  Chapter 1

  It was almost impossible to breathe with the amount of people in the room, pressed in from wall to wall. At present, I did my best to ignore it. I was being introduced to Reginald Horne, the son of Lord Archibald Horne, who my mother had told me—repeatedly—was a most worthy marriage match. However, all I could think of, as I stood across from him, was that he was twenty-eight years old and already losing his hair.

  That was perhaps unworthy of me. However, I couldn’t help myself from thinking it. The large, shiny patch atop his head distracted me. It shimmered beneath the gas lamps as he spoke, seemingly made all the more lustrous with his red cheeks from exertion as he danced throughout the night.

  “What do you think, Miss Smythe?”

  “O-oh.” I pulled my attention away from Reginald Horne’s distracting bald patch and attempted to remember exactly what he and the other members of the group around me had been speaking of. Something concerning the latest court gossip? I had never kept up with that sort of thing, not since I entered London society when I was eighteen years old, and not in the three years since. “I think you’re right, Mr. Horne,” I said, hedging my bets on this being an appropriate answer. He grinned in response—an overbearing gesture that made my skin crawl, though I managed to hide my response well, as I always did—and turned back to one of the other men present to continue with whatever they had been speaking of before stopping to ask my opinion.

  Whenever I attended a ball, a huge crowd always huddled around me, and that crowd usually consisted of a fair number of young gentlemen. However, I had made few friends in society, even over the course of three years. That meant that I had grown accustomed to speaking very little, even if I was the center of attention in these social gatherings.

  My mother had impressed upon me the importance of having a beautiful appearance and speaking very little from an early age. I had spent hours dressing up for this particular occasion. The gown was among the best in my wardrobe—a powder-blue affair trimmed in lace, with a neckline that my maid had told me cheekily showed off my décolletage to its best advantage before I left this evening. Not that I cared too much about showing off anything. I found the men that surrounded me boring—Reginald Horne especially, and he was the one who hounded me the most.

  “Would you care for a dance?” he asked as the rest of the gentleman in our gathering dispersed at the first signs of a lilting waltz, off to find young ladies to accompany them on the already-crowded dance floor.

  I smiled politely. Every ounce of my being wanted to say no, but I knew what my mother would say—more importantly, what she would do—if I rejected Reginald right now. So, I nodded and let him take me by the hand and pull me out to the edge of the floor, slipping his hand around my trim waist.

  “You’re always so quiet, Clara,” he said, using my given name. Again, my skin crawled. I hated how he had become so familiar with me lately, as if we were already calling on one another—or worse, betrothed.

  “Am I?” I replied, forcing myself to respond this time, even though more than anything I wanted to walk away. I tried to imagine how he would look if I did so—crestfallen and confused as he stood alone on the dance floor. Or maybe he wouldn’t care at all. He would just go on and find the next young girl to target.

  “Yes,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as we spun together through a line of other dancers. “So quiet. So timid. It’s one of the reasons I’m so drawn to you, you know. I always wonder what’s going through that head of yours.”

  Oh, wouldn’t you like to know? I fixed a smile on my face and hoped that it came off as mysterious. His eyes bore into mine, and it made me more uncomfortable by the moment. Already I ran through every excuse that I could think of to get out of that ballroom and make my escape once the dance was over. Perhaps I could tell him that the crowd made me feel dizzy, or that I had come down with a sudden headache. Surely, he would believe that a woman of my “delicacy” would need a little room to breathe after being stuck in such a huge throng of people for so long a period of time.

  “If you’ll excuse me… I feel just a little faint…” I stumbled over the words as the swells of the waltz came to a close and the people around us broke into polite applause, not accustomed much to lying but desperately needing to get away from Reginald. I thought that he would simply nod and let me go, or hoped that he would at least. However, the moment I spoke he got a concerned look on his face.

  “Feeling faint? Are you quite all right, my dear Clara?”

  “Oh, y
es,” I said quickly. “Just a bit aroused from—you know—the ballroom, and all the people, and the dancing.”

  “Perhaps a bit of fresh air will do you good?” Still not having released my hand after the dance, he now slipped it underneath his arm and proceeded to tug me after him as if I was some sort of stray pup. I almost cried out in surprise and only just barely managed to contain myself as he walked me back off the dance floor and to the edge of the gathered pack.

  “Oh, there’s really no need…”

  “Nonsense, my dear,” he said. “I’m worried about you. Let me make sure you’re all right.” Then he gave me a bland smile, to which I wanted to roll my eyes in proper abhorrence—a reaction I hadn’t felt before but which I was certain Reginald inspired within me.

  The backdoor of the ballroom opened up to a wide garden. A few other couples it seemed had come out this way for air as well, so we weren’t alone— at least I could worry that we weren’t being improper in this outing. With Reginald still holding tight onto my arm, we made our way out onto a pathway that led through tall shrubberies. Lanterns hung from overhead lit our way, illuminating us with a pale-yellow glow. If I were here with anyone else, it would have been a magical scene. As it was, it all felt fake, like a bad theatrical production in which I was an unwilling participant.

  Reginald led me along the path, and I kept my head down, hoping against hope that we would only spend a short time outside before he got bored and wanted to go inside and speak to his friends again. But something was different about the way he treated me tonight compared to all the other nights that we had been together. Loath though I was to admit it, he was more attentive to me somehow. All his attention was fixed on me, as if I was the only person at the ball. Had I been any other girl, or he any other bachelor, there probably would have been something romantic about the moment that we shared together. But the more time I spent in Reginald’s company, the more I knew that I didn’t enjoy the interest that he bestowed on me.

  “A lovely night, isn’t it?” he said after a few minutes of silence had passed.

  “Hmm,” I responded, for lack of anything better.

  He tugged at my arm again, to stop me now, and came around so that he stood in front of me. I froze, acutely aware of the look on his face. It was eager anticipation now—more than just a bachelor enjoying a moment alone with a lady. Suddenly, a million thoughts rushed through my head, and none of them happy.

  “Mister Horne…”

  “Clara,” he said quickly, before I could finish what I was going to say. Then he kneeled on the ground before me, looking up, eyes glimmering in the lantern light. “I have spoken to your father and your mother, and now I am speaking to you. There is no girl more beautiful in London—no girl with a sweeter disposition. And so, I must ask… I am inclined to take you as my bride, if you will have me.”

  Oh. And there it was. I looked down for a long moment. Then, before I knew what happened, I pulled my hands from his and I ran. I ran far, and fast, as quickly as I could, away from Reginald, and away from the ball. It was unlike anything I had ever done before in all my twenty-one years—I had always been one to follow my mother’s rules, society’s rules—but now, facing down the prospect of marrying Reginald Horne had struck such displeasure into me that I had simply begun sprinting, as quickly as I could, doing the best I couldn’t to trip over the flowing skirts of my ballgown.

  “Clara!” Reginald called out from somewhere behind me, but I didn’t stop. There must have been others too who turned and looked as I continued on down the path, but I didn’t even look to see them. The only thing on my mind was getting away from there—finding some sort of freedom. I knew, beyond a doubt, that I wouldn’t find the life that I wanted being trapped with a man like Reginald Horne, forced to be his silent partner for the rest of my days.

  I don’t know how long I had been running when I first saw the lights. They sparkled up in the sky above me, like shimmering stars, but they were bigger than stars. Then I realized that they were coming closer and closer, until they were at the edge of the garden, enormous lights pulsing bright blue.

  Freezing where I stood, I stared at the lights for a long moment, transfixed. I didn’t notice the footsteps behind me, not until a hand touched down on my shoulder. Then, when I turned, a beautiful woman with dark skin smiled at me.

  “Clara,” she said. “I have been watching you.”

  Shrieking, I almost started to run again, but my legs failed me. Instead, I sank down into my skirts, and the woman leaned over me, taking hold of my chin and tilting it up so she could look down into my eyes.

  “Yes, I have been watching you,” she said. “And I can tell that you don’t want this life. It isn’t the life for you. Don’t you want something better? A life where you can be surrounded by strength and beauty?”

  Staring up at the woman, I felt my head go funny, as if I were being put under some sort of spell. All I could do was look into her eyes as she continued to speak to me.

  “I know a place like that, Clara. A place where you can find a strong mate, unlike the weak men of this world. Men like Reginald. Wouldn’t you rather be in a world like that?”

  The words surrounded me. They transfixed me. Yes, it seemed so wonderful, I thought. I had been running away from Reginald, but to find someone who could provide me with the strength that I wanted… the beauty that I wanted… Slowly, I nodded, my eyes sliding shut. The woman’s face was the last thing that I saw for the next eighty years.

  Chapter 2

  The ice floes stretched out as far as I could see. Standing there, it was almost easy to forget everything that had happened to me. Almost. I could be at peace for one brief moment. The silence enveloped me as the light glimmered down on the snow and the pale blue of the ice shimmered on the horizon line. However, that peace was short lived.

  “Clara! Come on!” I turned around and saw Shay waving at me. Just the sight of her was enough to bring out a smile on my face—a rarity, admittedly. She stood next to a deep-skinned, broad-shouldered Kamani. Her mate, Khofti, who at present had his arm possessively slipped around her waist, as if he was telling the world that he would ensure that absolutely nothing would take her away from him.

  Of course, after what had happened with the Ak-hal, it was clear to everyone that Khofti would never let anybody or anything take Shay from him, special gesture or not. The two of them had become something of living legends amongst the Kamani and the human women who lived among them. After all, they were our saviors. Had it not been for Shay and Khofti, the Ak-hal would still hold Gorodrim.

  No. Aman, I reminded myself. Gorodrim was what the Ak-hal had called it. Aman was this planet’s true name. The mental slip-up made me wince, even though nobody had been aware of it but myself. It had been many long years now since I was in the clutches of the Ak-hal—since I had been freed—but it was still difficult to separate myself from the time that I had spent under their control. Under the control of my mate, Kypher. Just the thought of him stopped me in my tracks, as it did every time he came to mind.

  I hadn’t seen him since the day that the Kamani brought down Argaram Castle, but he still lingered like a ghost at the back of my mind. How could he not? Thinking back, I remembered the days after I first awoke on the Ak-hal’s ship after Sarita offered me the chance to leave my life back home in England—a life I had detested, feared, wanted no part of.

  Argaram Castle, in all its glory, had been strange and beautiful, a welcome respite from the well-trodden cobblestone streets of London. The shining mithrim had entranced me, as it was so different from the ash-covered red brick of the buildings I had grown so used to back home. I had gazed on it all with childlike wonder as I was clothed in regal gowns adorned in alien flowers of rich burgundy, as gems were draped around my neck and my blond hair was curled with alien technology that I couldn’t hope to understand given the world that I had come from.

  And the Ak-hal themselves… I had never told Shay this… I knew how strongly s
he had felt from the first moment that she had arrived on this planet about her impending mating with the Ak-hal, but on seeing them, I had been filled with a strange desire. The world around me was strange and beautiful, but so too were the Ak-hal, and when I was told that one of them would choose me as his mate there, I felt not a hint of fear. Instead, I was driven by a need to be the best mate possible for the Ak-hal that would choose me.

  And then there had been Kypher. In the Ak-hal mating ritual, there is a first dance. I had danced with many gentlemen in my time on Earth so I hadn’t expected much of this ceremony. But I felt something when our hands first touched, and then once the dance was over, he allowed me to look up into his face—allowed our eyes to meet—and it was then that I knew he would choose me to be his mate.

  “You are a beautiful human,” he told me, eyes burning like fire as they bored into me, seeming like they could blaze their way into the very core of my being.

  “I cannot thank you enough for the compliment,” I replied, trembling—but not out of fear. Because we were touching, I knew that he could feel this, and wondered what he would make of my reaction, but his cold demeanor gave nothing away. He simply stared down at me passively, and all I could do was continue to look at him, taking in his pale skin and white-blond hair.

  “Give me your name.” It had been a demand—not a question. But I was more than ready to fulfill this request either way.

  “Clara.” I allowed a small smile to touch my lips. Another partner stepped up, prepared to take me away, but Kypher raised his hand to stop him. The Ak-hal stared from me to Kypher coolly, and then walked away with the young redheaded girl at his side, who gave me a pleading look as she was swept away. I didn’t quite understand that—what could have distressed her so much? Back in that moment, I had thought that the others had chosen to be here, the same way that I had chosen to be here. But I was only briefly distracted, because Kypher reached out to me and pulled me to him.