Forbidden Alien Prince: Celestial Mates (The Alva)

by Miranda Martin

  I cup her round backside and pull her in even closer as our kiss turns wild, deep and wet. My cock throbs against the softness between her legs and I cannot help grinding against her, wanting to close any minuscule distance between us that might remain. Breaking the kiss, I nibble my way down her slender neck, across her elegant collarbones, and right to the plump curves of her breasts, nuzzling the soft skin there.

  I need more. Hooking my fingers into the band, I pull it down, freeing the darker brown of her nipples.

  Beautiful.

  With a heartfelt groan, I suck one tip into my mouth as I slide one hand up the silky length of her thigh. Moving it under her dress and right to the scrap of fabric covering her wet heat. Tugging the cloth to the side, I skim my fingers through her wetness. She moans as she arches against my fingers, sliding herself against me.

  I have a moment of concern that someone will walk into the bathing cavern but then I do not care anymore, my fingers finding the small bud of her pleasure and drawing circles. Her hands clench in my hair as she tries to grind against me. I slide two fingers into her wet opening, breathing deep as she clenches around them.

  Perfection.

  Moving my fingers in and out, I rub at the top of her cleft with my thumb. I kiss and suck on the delectable curves of her breasts. The soft scent of her fills my senses. Her desire is clear in the way she clenches on my fingers inside her and in the rapid beat of her heart against my lips.

  Groaning hoarsely she cries out, wetness sliding over my fingers as she pushes down, her entire body shuddering with in climax. My cock throbs in sympathy, the tightness of my trousers making me wince. I dare not find relief by opening them.

  I fear I will go too far, take an irrevocable step if I do. I have gone too far already.

  Smoothing my hand down her slim but strong back, I mentally shake my head.

  This was an irresponsible act. I ponder that as she recovers, her head resting against my shoulder. After a moment, she stirs and leans back, her face flushed and relaxed. She is even more attractive.

  "Thank you," she murmurs, kissing my cheek almost chastely.

  I nod. She glances down at the undeniable bulge between my legs but I shake my head as I carefully set her on her feet.

  "We are in a public place," I remind her, not above using that as an excuse.

  She frowns and I look toward the entrance where the faint sounds of people come from outside. Realization crosses her face, followed by a quick nod and a renewed flush as she covers her breasts and rights her clothing.

  "To where should I escort you?" I ask, adjusting myself in a useless attempt to find a more comfortable position for my frustrated cock.

  When she shakes her head, obviously not understanding, I try to simplify the question.

  "Home?" I prod.

  "Ah," she nods. "Ti’ana."

  She pronounces the word with care but my stomach drops at that response. Perhaps I am mistaken.

  "Prince Rathorin?" I ask to clarify, needing to know for certain.

  She licks her lips and slowly nods, looking away. Trepidation sinks in deep, right into my bones. This mistake could be even more costly than I could have predicted.

  What have I done?

  Chapter Nine

  Clara

  "Ti’ana," I tell Drevakin when at last I understand he's asking where I need to go.

  An unreadable expression crosses his face.

  "Prince Rathorin?" he prods, his focus intense.

  This is awkward.

  I nod, looking away as I confirm I'm matched with Rathorin. This was wrong, but it's weird to think that way. Really, I just met Rathorin, yet somehow I'm tied to him. I don't feel the same attraction for him as I do for Drevakin. Case in point, what just happened.

  When I look back at Drevakin, it's like he’s a totally different person. His eyes are cool, his face reserved. He's withdrawn now as he stands, even though he's physically still right in front of me.

  "Come," he orders, his voice neutral as he gestures to follow but doesn’t offer his hand or his arm.

  There’s the same chill in his voice and his body language. Somehow, I’m more alone now than I was before I met him. Losing what I thought was a real connection is more intense than it should be.

  Joseph. Shame, regret and loneliness is overwhelming as I follow behind Drevakin, walking slowly as he climbs up the steps that lead back to the village.

  I know it must not be great for him to know I'm technically with someone else, but I can't help being hurt by how he's shut down. Like what just happened between us meant nothing to him. And the thought that maybe it doesn't isn't comfortable. I could be just another notch in his sword belt.

  Or maybe I'm being naive about the whole thing. Not an adjective I would have ever thought to apply to myself. I'm also not the most experienced person when it comes to relationships, casual or otherwise.

  I was never the person to sleep around, even before Joseph. Being that vulnerable to someone who’s still a stranger never appealed to me. Not when I saw so much as a police officer. So this whole situation is uncharted territory. The entire experience new and crazy and terrifying. I'm not even on Earth anymore, which is difficult enough to wrap my head around.

  I'm shaken out of my thought spiral as we reach the crowded marketplace and I realize we're drawing more attention than when I was on my own. Following Drevakin through the crowd, people part to give way as soon as they see his intimidating figure. His expression, coupled with his massive size, is enough for people to give him a wide berth. Drevakin isn't just taller than the crowd, he's also more muscled, his frame heavier and stronger.

  His markedly practical clothes in neutral browns and grays are more serious and somewhat menacing against the backdrop of the more colorful and flamboyant styles favored by the people of House Ti'ana. I guess the silver lining is that we make the trip back in about half the time it took me to do it alone.

  Drevakin makes his way to the House Mansion without faltering, his steps confident and sure. He's familiar with the route and the ultimate location. When we enter the courtyard, a few people linger there and I know immediately that I've made at least one cultural mistake.

  Their eyes widen at Drevakin, but almost bulge right out of their heads when they see I've come with him. One servant scurries away and slips inside.

  I'm being ratted out. So much for not wanting to make a big deal about visiting the village.

  "Uh, I will open the door," I say nervously, mostly in English, as Drevakin comes to an abrupt stop.

  He looks over at me for the first time since we left the bath house, his eyes guarded. The ultimate poker face, like I'm a complete stranger. Like I didn’t just get off with him and he wasn’t hard as a rock, his hands demanding, his mouth hot and insistent against mine.

  He hesitates and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. But he nods, his face once again that hard mask. I need to get a grip on myself. This isn't me. I try to get a hold of my emotions as I skirt around and go to the door, opening it and stepping inside. I'm racking my brain to figure out the least awkward way to say goodbye to Drevakin when footsteps approach. My heart drops as I look to the side and find Rathorin.

  The servant I saw slip in a minute earlier is lurking in the shadows, his eyes watchful. I step back, farther away from the door as Rathorin strides over. He glances at me, his eyes calculating, but then his attention is on Drevakin.

  "Prince Drevakin?" he asks. There is a definite mocking quality to the way he says Drevakin's name and title.

  I thought the girl in the alley called him a prince, but I forgot, probably because of the violence.

  Or the orgasm.

  You know what, I give myself a break for forgetting Drevakin's title.

  What's more interesting is the interplay between Rathorin and Drevakin. By the looks on both of their faces, there's no love lost there.

  I get an inkling for another reason Drevakin may have shut down when he realized wh
ere I’m staying and who I’m here for. He stares back at Rathorin, uncowed, even though he's literally in Rathorin's House, surrounded by the other prince’s people.

  I also realize that Drevakin is slightly taller than Rathorin now that they're standing side by side, though they're otherwise matched. Not that my body cares. There's just something about Drevakin that I'm drawn to, both physically and in general. It was just easy to be around him. Before he withdrew. And even now, I have to admit I'm drawn to him despite the cold front.

  I can't drum up the same desire for Rathorin, even when I know he's objectively just as physically attractive. What a disaster.

  Rathorin's eyes flicker to me before returning to Drevakin.

  The two have a fast, heated exchange in Alvan.

  Too fast for me to understand most of it but I get the impression Rathorin’s people have done something terrible to Drevakin’s. There isn't an ounce of give in Rathorin’s demeanor, not a glimmer of empathy for Drevakin or his people. Drevakin's jaw clenches, but he bites his tongue. He glances over at me. Am I imagining that his face softens a little?

  It doesn't matter.

  In the next instant, he turns and leaves without a second glance back, refusing to respond to further. Rathorin steps forward and closes the front door, the lock click is loud in the now silent entryway.

  It’s like a trap has been shut.

  Chapter Ten

  Drevakin

  Rage is a fire in my belly. The door to Rathorin's House Mansion closes with an echoing slam. I knew he would not be a sympathetic ear on this matter, I came with that knowledge in mind. But his utter dismissal of the entire situation is still a shock. The disdainful offer of compensation as if my people and their safety are worth a paltry carriage.

  I growl, recalling his callous disregard for my people’s suffering. My people. All because we do not have the power of a Major House. Because he sees us as disposable, as less than he and his people.

  As I push through the marketplace on my way to the carriage, the crowd almost runs. I know my face is foreboding, reflecting the turmoil of my emotions. Reaching my carriage, I climb on then look back the way I came, the edge of the Ti’ana House Mansion just visible.

  My stomach clenches as the possessiveness I've been fighting rises once again. Leaving Clara behind with Rathorin is more difficult than I expected. She looked lost next to Rathorin's much larger frame, and hurt. The urge to step in between the two of them, to shield her and take her out from under his power was much fiercer than I could have predicted. I know, even after such a short acquaintance, that Clara is a strong woman, more than capable of taking care of herself.

  That doesn't matter. Knowing this is where she must stay, with this male who has no honor, who is unlikely to treat her with the care and respect she deserves...

  My instinct was to pick her up and take her with me, damn the consequences.

  Fighting the drive beating inside that tells me to turn back and take what is mine, I click the juntta into motion.

  She is not mine. Is she?

  The connection between us is undeniable. I'm drawn to her on a primal level. Desire pulses with every beating of my heart. My cock stiffens, throbbing with the memory of thwarted desire. The scent and feel of her.

  But I'm not the only one I have to worry about. Pursuing Clara when she belongs to the Prince of a Major House is not just political suicide. It would have wide spread consequences. Even if Rathorin is not bonded to her, he would see it as a theft of one of his most prized possessions, the bearer of his future children. And he would wreak vengeance not just on me, but on all of House Lo'ara.

  Every male, female, and child would pay for it. He would raze House Lo'ara, with all its history, culture, and steady, hard working people to the ground as if it had never existed.

  Clenching my jaw, I force myself to turn away and urge the juntta out through the large gates in the border wall, ignoring the wary and judgmental looks from the guards. It's possible Rathorin will not treat Clara well, but it is out of my hands. My responsibility to my people takes precedence over my desires.

  It must.

  The journey back to House Lo'ara is painful. I have not secured safety for my people and I have left Clara behind. How can a woman I just met have such a hold on my thoughts?

  When I arrive at House Lo'ara, I am in no better mood than when I left. In fact, I'm worse off, my heart aches with nothing to show for it. My people read my grim mood as I travel through the village, their greetings subdued, eyes somber and watchful.

  When I arrive at the Lo’ara House Mansion, my servants and the stable master are careful and quiet, sensing the meeting did not go well. But they do not know the other reason my mood is even darker. I attempt to throw myself into work, into my duties. Keeping myself busy from early in the day to late in the evening then falling into bed. I hope exhaustion will allow me to sleep, but my nights remain restless, filled with anxiety and dread.

  It is a fight over the next few weeks to stop myself from going back to House Ti'ana and spiriting Clara away. When I lay in bed, I can taste her on my lips, feel her warm, smooth skin under my fingertips. Hear the soft sounds she made as she climaxed on my fingers, her silky wetness coating my hand. Nightly, I take myself in hand and agonizingly spill my seed on the sheets, my obsession too great.

  My mood is not fair to those around me and I attempt to keep it to myself, though I know I only partially succeed. People treat me with care, tip toeing around, attempting to shield me from even the smallest inconvenience for fear it might cause an explosion.

  Which only irritates me further.

  I prioritize the duties that will take me out of the House Mansion during the day to remove myself from the situation.

  "My Prince!"

  I turn as someone calls my name on my way out of the courtyard. It is the older male from the group attacked twice before. The rest of the group is here too. Striding over, I see fresh bumps and bruises as I close the distance. He's also favoring one leg.

  The others are no better off with cuts, bruises, and covered in dirt, clothing ripped. Some are bleeding from more severe wounds, crude bandages wrapped around an arm, a midsection. The Ti’ana thugs didn't even spare the women.

  A haze of pure rage settles over me. This will not stand.

  Chapter Eleven

  Clara

  After that uncomfortable confrontation with Drevakin, Rathorin is cooler toward me, though still polite. I try my best to keep an open mind, but it's hard. I try to be creative, look at him from a different perspective. Maybe it's just cultural differences that make him seem so harsh.

  But that hope wavers as I observe his behavior toward the servants. During dinner one night, he asks a young maid to bring him something. I’ve been studying and speaking Alvan non-stop, learning as much as I can and I almost regret it, now understanding more of Rathorin’s cruelty.

  "Yes, my Prince," she says, hurrying away to fulfill his request, happy to be of service.

  When she arrives back, fast enough she's out of breath, he takes the goblet full of some beverage and takes a sip. The maid looks on nervously. When he scowls, I understand why.

  "Is this what I asked for?" Rathorin asks, his voice severe. "I said cold! This is warm! Have you received absolutely no training?"

  Judging by how young she looks, she probably hasn’t been here long. My stomach twist in sympathy as her rose-colored glasses are ripped away. Her face pales, her eyes widen, and she stands frozen in shock.

  Come on. Pull yourself together, girl, I implore with my eyes.

  I don't want to know what Rathorin will do if she doesn't. I cough, pulling her attention. Her eyes dart over and I give her an encouraging smile. Jerking my head to the door and hoping she gets the hint to go fix the drink. She blinks and snaps out of her stupor, turning back to Rathorin with a quick nod.

  "Yes, my Prince. Of course! I will go chill it!"

  He hands her the drink, waving her away. The man who
’s supposed to be a leader is just an eye roll away from being a high-school mean girl instead.

  "I am sorry you were here to see that," he says with a smile as he turns. My hand itches to smack it off his face. "It is so taxing to have incompetent servants."

  I nod. If I open my mouth, I will say choice words. Words it wouldn't be wise to say while I'm living in the guy's house with no easy way out. This incident is bad enough, but if it were the only time I saw him behave badly, I might chalk it up to a fleeting bad mood. Not great, but not the norm.

  Unfortunately, if it is due to an off mood, he seems to be in it a lot. Maybe all the time. One time he dressed the stable master down for not bringing him the best juntta in the stable. After that incident, he forced the cook to prepare the entire midday meal again because he didn’t think it was appropriately spiced. At least not to his standards.

  I have to clamp down a very real desire to smash his arrogant face into one of the mushier dishes. It would be satisfying, but who knows what he would do to retaliate. So I keep my mouth shut. If I stay here long enough, I may have to wire my jaw closed if I don't want to say something less than complimentary.

  With dinner over and nothing else pressing to do, I wander around the House Mansion. One of his people makes his way to Rathorin's study and waiting a beat, I follow, staying far enough behind to avoid notice as he steps in and greets Rathorin. I listen at the door, still hoping I might the man I’m matched to is actually good, though that hope is waning. He keeps showing me the same face over and over again. I piece together that they’re speaking about a trade deal with another House. I gather the visitor doesn't agree with Rathorin's outright refusal of the terms.

  "Is this your House?" Rathorin’s voice carries through the door. "Are you the Prince? Perhaps I am mistaken."

  The tension in the room is palpable even from outside as the other man is quiet for a moment. I hope this guy doesn't push it. Rathorin isn't the type to let things go.