A Baby for the Alien Prince: Celestial Mates (The Alva)

by Miranda Martin

  This high up, with a vertical view of the almost sheer wall, it looks like suicide.

  "Maybe we should try that other tunnel," I say, butterflies dancing in my stomach and my ankle throbbing.

  He ignores me.

  Big surprise.

  Inching forward, he reaches up and anchors his fingers on a minuscule ledge.

  Then he finds a small crevice for his foot.

  He breathes in deeply and propels us up, his muscles moving smooth beneath me.

  Don't look down.

  Don't look down.

  I look down.

  "Oh man," I whine, immediately looking up.

  But looking up makes me dizzy.

  All right, look straight forward.

  I keep my eyes glued on Elorshin's straining hands. He's taken off his gloves so he can get a better grip, the tendons on the backs of his hands straining as he climbs.

  It's fine.

  We're fine.

  Everything is just f-

  His hand slips.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, certain this is it as we swing into the open air, swaying back and forth.

  And then the motion stops.

  I gingerly open one eye to see what's happening.

  Elorshin is hanging on with the fingertips of one hand.

  No big deal.

  We're going to die.

  With a grunt of effort, he reaches up again, his fingers searching for any place to anchor, one of his feet rising to do the same.

  He hauls us back up against the wall.

  I keep my eyes shut tight for the rest of the journey up the wall, figuring I don't want to see the fall coming if it happens.

  But he climbs up the rest of the way without another slip, his torso expanding and contracting against me from the effort. I peek, opening one eye just a crack.

  He has to reach for the ledge.

  Which means he has to let go with one hand and reach back.

  Piece of cake.

  Not worried at all.

  Calm as a cucumber.

  Steady as a rock.

  Though that last one doesn't seem like it's a great one anymore considering recent events. So maybe I really am as steady as a rock.

  He takes a moment to rest. I lay my cheek against the warmth of his neck, trying to offer support.

  "Just a bit farther. And hey, if we don't make it, I won't blame you," I murmur.

  He takes deep breath and lets go with one hand to reach back.

  He takes a moment, but he gets a good enough grip to let go with his other hand and swing back to take hold with both.

  Don't scream.

  You'll break his concentration.

  Thank God he isn't actually Tarzan. Swinging on those stupid vines would probably kill me.

  With a hoarse groan of effort, he pulls us up with his arms, his shoulders bunching and straining with the effort required.

  It's not just his weight and mine, our clothes weigh a good amount, heavy in order to keep the cold at bay.

  I try to help, climbing off him and onto the ledge as soon as I'm able.

  He groans as he swings his leg over and rolls onto his back, his mouth open as he tries to catch his breath, his temples damp with sweat from the effort.

  "All right, you're definitely my hero," I mutter, kissing his forehead, his temple, his cheeks.

  He smiles at the butterfly kisses, his eyes opening again.

  But he doesn't rest for long.

  He's back up on his feet, patting his back again.

  I want to stop feeling like such a burden, but I know arguing again will only waste time and he'll just swing me up anyway.

  So I climb on to his back again.

  And then we're right back where we were, on this mind numbing, body killing journey back to his home.

  I thought Earth was bad.

  But Alva is on a different level.

  Sure, it has space, less people, the freedom to have children.

  But it's dark, bitingly cold, and there are literal monsters outside of the confines of the Houses.

  I don't know what that thing was that attacked us, but I know I'll be seeing it in my nightmares for a while. Maybe forever.

  No wonder House Do'ana and House Viir are so fortified.

  If I'd been thinking halfway clearly, I would have wondered at the reason for those border walls, the massive lights, and the guards stationed everywhere before making my ill planned escape attempt.

  But there's no undoing it now.

  No matter how much I wish I could.

  My thoughts are dark as I lay my head on Elorshin's shoulder, soaking in his warmth.

  We stop after a while so he can rest.

  Again, we don't stop long.

  My eyes are closed, my head back on his shoulder as he keeps us moving, when I realize the inside of my eyelids are getting brighter.

  My eyes snap open and Elorshin quickens his pace.

  We leave the tunnel we're in to find ourselves in House Do'ana's cavern, the lights along the border walls like a beacon leading us to safety.

  I never would have guessed I could be so happy to see this place again.

  But my elation at the sight of it is over-shadowed by concerns of what happens now.

  Elorshin has a smile on his face as he closes the distance to his home, shouts of happy welcome coming from the walls as a few guards appear, running forward.

  I obviously can't leave again, at least not like I tried to.

  And I also feel a closer to Elorshin now.

  But that doesn't mean he wants me here any more than he did before.

  I smile at the guards’ happy faces as they greet Elorshin, but my thoughts and emotions are a confused tangle as I consider what kind of life I'll have if I stay here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elorshin

  When we arrive at House Do'ana, cries of welcome and relief ring in my ears. A guard drives a carriage to us before we reach the border wall and I help Margot sit before climbing on next to her.

  She still appears worn down, but there is also relief now at arriving home. Though I am uncertain if she sees it as her home after she attempted to leave.

  But I know, ultimately, the fault lies with me.

  I am the reason she does not feel this is her home.

  I am the reason she tried to run.

  My thoughts turn grim as I consider that.

  I push it aside after a few moments. Now is not the time to dwell upon it.

  I wait to urge the juntta on, leaning down to speak with one guard.

  News of the driver's death will spread. I make certain to paint Margot's driver as a hero, protecting his Princess until his final breath. The guard will inform his family and I will meet any needs they might have as I would for any of my people.

  The grim news will be difficult to impart.

  Straightening, I urge the juntta forward, ready to face the people.

  Even on such short notice, they line the main thoroughfare, bowing and curtsying, happy smiles wreathing all their faces.

  I smile and greet everyone, attempting show we are fine. A Prince must appear unshakable, worthy of the trust the people give.

  Margot does the same, though I think she does not want to appear weak in front of strangers.

  Even on such short acquaintance, I am certain I am correct on that front.

  It takes longer than it should to reach the House Mansion; the path crowded and difficult to maneuver. When it appears, the sight of it is more than welcome. Exhausted, sore muscles cry out for rest and a warm bath. We reach the courtyard and I pull the juntta to a stop. Climbing off the carriage, I swing Margot into my arms to carry her inside.

  Her exhaustion shows when she doesn't argue as I carry her in.

  Food, then a bath, then sleep, in that order.

  I carry her straight into the kitchen where the cook has already set the table with simple, hearty fare. I worry our food may seem strange and foreign to Margot, but she finishes
the plate I make for her in obvious enjoyment.

  When I offer more, she shakes her head, patting her stomach.

  I nod and pick her up again, the weight and feel of her in my arms now familiar. I like the weight of her, the feel of her in my arms, it is natural. As if my arms have been lacking her.

  "We are going to the bathing pool. It's heated by a natural spring, which will loosen your body, and keep your injuries from stiffening," I explain as I take the stairs leading down to the tunnel we need to walk through.

  The small size of the cavern keeps the area warm. Water gently steams, bubbling and inviting. The ceiling and walls of the cavern are lush with healthy sieni, the humidity and warmth encouraging its growth. A soft green light reflects off the surface of the pool, inviting us in.

  "Bathe," I say, sounding the word out for her as I set her down in front of the water.

  She repeats in the strange accent I am fast growing fond of, her eyes taking in the water. She reaches up to the fastening of her cloak but then hesitates and turns to meet my eyes.

  "Yes, it is to bathe in," I say, brushing her hands aside so I can unfasten her cloak and let it drop to the ground.

  My cock stirs in interest as I help her remove her heavy dress, leggings, and boots. I swallow as she strips to a thin, short chemise, the curve of her breasts and the shadow between her legs visible.

  I have not yet seen her fully naked and do not want to wait any longer to enjoy the sight.

  She meets my eyes, her cheeks flushed pink as she raises her arms for me, helping me pull the chemise off.

  I toss it to the side, my eyes drinking her in.

  I have never seen a more beautiful sight.

  My hands are cupping the warm weight of her breasts before I think about it. Drawn to her.

  The skin is so silky soft, the pink tips hardening as I rub them with my thumbs.

  I groan, but force myself to step back.

  We are both in need of a bath and I need to divest myself of my heavy clothes before stepping into the pool.

  She watches with avid eyes as I strip efficiently, tearing a small hole in my shirt in my hurry.

  She chuckles as she notices, her eyes laughing at me.

  I do not mind she knows how much I desire her. And it is good to see her happy.

  I smile back as I undo my trousers and let them drop.

  Her laugh ends abruptly, her eyes focused on my hard length.

  I give her a moment to look and then close the distance and swing her into my arms, the experience vastly different now that there is not a stitch of clothing between us.

  I decide I much prefer carrying her naked.

  She wraps her arms around my neck to hold on as I take the steps leading into the pool. The warm, soothing water rises until it is chest deep.

  Chest deep for me, so it is quite deep for Margot.

  She lets out a hum of enjoyment as the warm water laps over us, letting go with one arm to move her hand in the water.

  I keep walking until I reach one of the graduated ledges on the side of the pool and sit her down. The small shelf built there contains all the bathing necessities.

  I hold the ledge at the side of the pool and dunk my head under the water to wet my hair. When I come back up, I push my hair out of my face and look at her expectantly.

  She understands, sinking lower until she can submerge her head.

  When she surfaces again, her curly hair is almost flat to her head, sleek and wet.

  I take the soft berry soap meant for washing and lather it between my hands.

  She watches me as I start at her scalp, massaging the soap in. Her eyes close a little in enjoyment at the stimulation, so I take my time. When I am finished, she submerges her head and shakes it to rinse.

  I am ready with the soap and a soft patch of sieni to scrub her body.

  I move up onto the ledge and help her move to the ledge just above it, leaving her out of the water but for her legs from the knees down.

  I soap her at her neck with slow, thorough circles, down to her shoulders. I meet her eyes with mine as I continue down to her breasts, taking extra care to soap every inch of skin there.

  I would not want her to be dirty after all.

  I smile as she lets out a sigh of disappointment when I move down to her stomach and then to her hips. I move between her legs, spreading them apart so I can scrub down one leg and then the other, enjoying their sleek smoothness and how different they appear against my much darker hands.

  Sliding back up the inside of one leg, I continue on this time, all the way to the soft juncture at the top.

  I run the wet sieni up and downher closed folds first.

  Margot’s body jerks a little as I spread her lips apart and run the sponge deliberately up and down the delicate furrow, spending a little more time on the little nub at the top, stroking up and down, and then in small circles.

  I watch her face, her eyes are closed and her teeth sink into her lush bottom lip.

  When I stop, she opens her eyes.

  "Stand," I murmur, gesturing up.

  She repeats it under her breath as she gets to her feet with my help.

  "Turn," I say, gesturing in a circle.

  She turns, repeating that word too.

  She learns quick. Soon she'll speak fluent Alvan. I can't help being impressed by her agile mind.

  Trailing the sponge along her back, I appreciate the view, which is just as lovely as the front.

  Standing and then crouching, I slide the sponge down her back, over the rounded curves of her backside, and down the backs of her legs to her small feet.

  She jumps and gives me a look over her shoulder as I pull one round cheek to the side to scrub her there.

  I grin, unabashed.

  "Rinse," I say, gesturing to the pool.

  I help her lower herself into the water to rinse off the soap suds.

  When I put her back on the ledge, she takes the soap I used on her hair and raises her brows at me.

  I smile and turn my back.

  Her small hands are surprisingly strong as they knead my scalp and I relax into the delicious sensation, rubbing a hand up and down one of her calves as she does a thorough job.

  "Rinse," she says, having already committed the word I used to memory.

  I oblige.

  "Stand," she orders.

  I smile at the demand, rising out of the water so she can do what she pleases.

  She stands on the higher ledge so she can reach my neck and shoulders, her face absorbed as she concentrates on her task.

  Down my chest and stomach.

  "Turn," she says, not touching my cock.

  I sigh, turning around.

  I haven't had my back washed by someone since I was a child.

  As she circles the sponge over me, I know for a fact it never felt as nice as this.

  My tiny earth bride moves down and then she is sliding the sponge over my backside and down the backs of my legs.

  "Turn."

  I oblige, swallowing as she continues with the fronts of my legs.

  When she reaches my cock, the touch of the soft sieni is almost too much, like small, slightly rough licks along my sensitive skin.

  I bite back a moan as she gives my balls a thorough washing.

  Then she goes back to my cock.

  I clench my jaw, enduring it for another moment before I have to move away or risk spilling my seed.

  I leap into the pool of water, her teasing laughter at my back.

  I climb back onto the ledge after I have control of my body again.

  She smiles at me, sitting on the higher ledge.

  Perfect.

  I stand, our faces aligned.

  I kiss her, putting all the lust and frustration I feel into that kiss.

  She purrs, her small hands sliding up my arms as she kisses me back with the same amount of passion.

  Groaning, I break the kiss, sliding my mouth down to suck at her neck, my fangs scraping a
gainst her delicate skin.

  She shivers as if she desires my claiming bite.

  I move farther down, down to her full breasts, burying my face against them for a moment, enjoying the softness before taking a hard tip in my mouth.

  She moans, her hands cupping my head as I suckle, pulling her nipple between my fangs while I cup the other breast with my hand, kneading the malleable flesh.

  When she is arching against me, making low noises, I move to the other breast.

  And repeat.

  When I leave her breasts, she is almost writhing against me, more than ready.

  I lower myself onto my knees, spreading her legs again.

  I cannot get enough of her taste.

  I lean in with a groan, sinking into the wet heat of her.

  She cries out almost immediately, convulsing against me as she climaxes, so sensitized that a single touch is enough.

  I push two fingers into her and rub with the tips.

  Her cry is hoarse this time as I squeeze another climax from her body quickly.

  She pushes me away with her hand, shaking her head.

  "Stand," she demands, still out of breath.

  I stand.

  She wraps her hands around my hips and urges me closer, between her spread thighs. I almost let her pull me in against her, almost sink my rampant cock into her heat.

  Almost commit myself to her irrevocably.

  More of me wants to than I realized.

  It is not just a physical attraction anymore.

  I like Margot. I admire her. I want to spend more time with her.

  But do I want to bind myself to her for a lifetime, with no certainty of Paritella?

  I stop, my cock still just out of reach of where it wants to sheath itself.

  I shake my head, the hurt I see in her eyes painful.

  I am the reason she feels hurt.

  And yet I cannot choose otherwise.

  Her face grows determined.

  She reaches out with both hands and takes my throbbing cock.

  The sight of her small, pale hands on my dark blue length and the softness of her palms has me inhaling shakily.

  I watch, unsure if she plans to attempt to consummate our union once again, but she does not.

  I do not stop her though it might be wise to.

  My cock aches for her touch.

  She takes a moment to learn me without soap or a sponge, her fingers nimble and soft as they trace every inch, skating down to cup the heavy weight of my testicles before moving back up to my base and then the tip.