Her Alien Prince

by Presley Hall

  “What happened?” I ask, wrenching my thoughts from the past and turning my attention to Strome.

  He grimaces. “We went back for the rest of the gicnuk. On our way back, Xevar got a vine wrapped around his leg. Not far outside the village gate.”

  Slanch. Stinging vines work fast. We have to hurry if we want to help the man before he’s seriously injured or worse.

  I take Charlotte by the hand, and she doesn’t make a single sound of protest when I start running.

  By the time we reach the spot where Xevar was attacked, Charlotte is breathing hard beside me. I can tell this amount of exertion is unusual for her, but she kept pace with Strome and me amazingly well.

  The men are gathered in a tight circle around Xevar as we draw near. I step forward, Charlotte and Strome at my side, and survey the scene.

  When stinging vines get ahold of prey, they constrict around the creature until it stops breathing. Then the vine sucks the nutrients out of the body little by little. They move like sentient animals and can live long after you’ve chopped away their roots, which makes them particularly dangerous. In addition, the fine hairs covering the green skin of the vine are highly venomous. The venom isn’t fatal, thank the gods, but it causes severe pain. It takes only a second for the venom to work past a person’s pores, and the painful sting makes it easier for the vines to incapacitate their prey.

  This is the first time one of my men has gotten trapped by these vines. Shortly after we were exiled to Nuthora, several of us saw firsthand what the vines could do when we saw them trap a city scrapper who came sniffing for salvage. Ever since then, we’ve been carefully wary of them.

  But this particular patch of vines must’ve just sprung up. We’ve cleared most of the forest near our village of them, burning the vines away to avoid just this sort of thing.

  Xevar lies on the ground, wrapped tightly in bright green vines from his head to his feet.

  He is one of my best men, a warrior who looks out for others first, always. He became like a brother to me after my own brother betrayed me by telling my uncle of our planned rebellion back on Vox. It was Xevar’s calm words and quiet understanding that helped me move past my consuming anger in the months after we arrived on Nuthora.

  I cannot let his life end this way.

  Passing a hand over my face, I crouch beside the warrior’s prone body. He’s still breathing, thank the gods. Voxerans are a warrior people, and he’s strong. It will take the vines a little longer to tighten to the point of fatality, but we don’t have long.

  “Droth,” he rasps. His eyes move and his nostrils flare as he catches sight of me. A vine is wrapped around part of his face, and another is wrapped around his neck, so I’m relieved he can still speak. “Don’t… let them touch me.”

  My jaw clenches. I know he’s not talking about the vines. He’s talking about his fellow warriors. The vines will slither from his body and wrap around anyone who tries to pull or hack them off—and Xevar would rather he be the one to die than any of the other men.

  Slanch.

  I won’t ask any of my men to risk themselves, but I can’t just stand by and watch Xevar die. If I move quickly enough, maybe I can hack away enough of the vines to free him before they wrap around me too.

  Pulling out my knife, I step forward to help free the trapped man when Charlotte suddenly moves. My body freezes. For a moment, I’m afraid she’s running away from us, but then I realize she’s moving right toward the remainder of the gicnuk carcass.

  “Charlotte, don’t!” I shout. There could be other vines on the ground. They could snatch her up.

  She doesn’t listen. I’m sure she doesn’t even understand me. Instead, she bends down and grabs a hunk of bloody gicnuk meat—a piece of the wing, I think. She darts back toward us with part of the wing in her arms.

  Before anyone can stop her, she’s on the other side of Xevar, brushing the wing along the vines that knot and twist around his body.

  The vines shudder. Xevar winces.

  Charlotte does it again, and the vines twitch and jerk. She repeats the action several more times, and finally, the tightly wound tendrils loosen from around Xevar. I can do nothing but stare in shock as Charlotte tempts the vines into letting go of the bound warrior. With each pass of the raw, bloody meat, they loosen a bit more, and soon they fall away completely, allowing me to grab Xevar’s hand and haul him away.

  Xevar is safe, but Charlotte isn’t.

  I stand up, poised to scoop her up as the now prey-less vines twist and writhe. The long plants rise up like monsters and start to snap toward Charlotte, but she hurls the hunk of meat away and the vines follow. Their thick tendrils snatch the chunk of gicnuk wing and collapse on the ground, shuddering and tightening as if in ecstasy.

  Strome gestures a few men forward, and they get to work burning the vines to make sure they won’t be able to attack again.

  A few of the other men help Xevar to his feet, supporting his body between them. He’ll be all right, although it will likely take a day or two for his body to recover from the trauma of the stinging vines’ venom.

  Some of the men are looking at Charlotte now. I can’t tear my gaze away from her either. She read the situation so quickly, and she found a solution none of us saw. She saved Xevar.

  When she notices our attention on her, she blinks, flushing slightly.

  I walk to my mate and grin down at her, and her eyes are hazy as she looks back up at me. She says something about a “dawg,” whatever that is, and I grasp her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” I say, grinning because I can’t stop. “Thank you for saving my friend. You are quick-witted as well as fierce. Brave as well as beautiful.”

  She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, a small smile spreading across her face. She may not understand me, but surely she can feel what I mean, and she looks pleased at the praise.

  My cock stirs to life all over again.

  Akhi. Even without the bond, I would be drawn to Charlotte, entranced by her. I’ve never met someone quite like her in all my life.

  I’ve only known this woman a few hours, and already, she has claimed my heart.

  15

  Charlotte

  Even though we’re nearly back to the settlement, walking at a leisurely pace now that no one’s in danger, my heart is still racing a little.

  Adrenaline is still surging through my system, and I keep thinking about what just happened. Everything seemed to move so fast.

  I’ve never seen anything like that before. I recognized that the vine was trying to attack Xevar, that it was obviously some kind of flesh-eating plant.

  In a flash, I thought of the dog I used to have as a kid. Even if he had a bowl of food in front of him, he could always be tempted away from it with another bowl of food, even if it was the same thing he’d already been eating. So, I acted.

  This is my life now, I guess. Freeing alien men from carnivorous plants with a bloody chunk of a bird that once wanted to eat me.

  Back on Earth, whenever Joseph went on the campaign trail, there was always something to fix. Drama among the workers on his staff or last-minute fires to put out.

  But never anything like this.

  Here, in the wilds of some distant planet, fixing things means something. I feel alive in a way I never have before, and I’m sure part of the reason for that is how many times I’ve almost died today. Things are clear and simple, boiled down to their most pure essence. I can’t think about the future since I have no idea if I’ll even have one, which puts my focus squarely on the present moment.

  I don’t think I’ve ever managed to do that in my life. I’ve taken plenty of yoga and meditation classes and practiced mindfulness and all of that—but until today, I didn’t know what it truly meant to be present.

  When we reach the encampment, Droth leads me back into the coolness of his house—his hut. The door swings closed behind me, and a giddy laugh escapes my lips.

  I’m in an alien’s hut. Ho
w is any of this real?

  Droth turns and looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze scanning my face.

  I think maybe he’s worried about me. I know how strange and exhilarated I feel on the inside, and I can only imagine how it’s manifesting in my expression and body language. I feel almost high, as if a current of electricity is buzzing through my veins.

  “I’m okay,” I say, trying to reassure him. “It’s just… I’ve never felt so alive before.” I gesture around me, encompassing not just the hut, but the entire planet. “You can’t imagine how different all of this feels. The jungle, the air, your people. You. It’s like I’ve been living in a tiny box this whole time, and now… now I’m outside that box. I’m seeing more of the universe than I ever knew existed. It’s wild. It’s wonderful.”

  I know I’m shaking, but it feels good. I’m full of energy, full of life, and I don’t want to ever stop feeling this way.

  Droth looks even more confused, and I laugh again. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. His face is so expressive, I feel like I can read him incredibly well even without understanding his words.

  A smile tugs at his lips as he watches me, lifting one side of his mouth and then the other.

  For a long moment, we just grin at each other, standing a few feet apart in his dimly lit hut. Then something changes in the air.

  Now we’re not just looking at each other, but staring. Warmth fills my insides, and my stomach flutters when he takes a step closer. I can see it on his face, some sort of shift from observation to hunger, like a predator.

  My stomach flutters again, but this time the fluttery feeling spreads to the rest of me. Droth is much taller than me, so I have to crane my neck to look up at him when he comes toe to toe with me. The smell of forest and rain clings to him.

  He’s so much bigger than me. That should frighten me, but it doesn’t. I’ve had more brushes with death in the past twenty-four hours than a modern woman on Earth should have, and I may have more.

  Hell, maybe one of those brushes will end up being the one that ends me.

  Maybe I won’t ever get home, ever see Earth again—but I’m here now, and I’m alive. Nothing matters but that, really.

  It doesn’t matter that the man in front of me isn’t human, it doesn’t matter that I am. It doesn’t matter that we can’t understand each other. I don’t care where he came from, who he used to be, because right now, he’s here and alive too.

  He may not know it, but he’s shown me more consideration and wonder than I’ve ever known, and even now, he’s looking at me in a way that makes my toes curl.

  Like he needs me more than air.

  Like he wants me more than he’s ever wanted anything.

  Like I’m his, if only he dares to take me.

  Fuck it, I think crazily.

  I’ve tried to be smart. I’ve tried to be practical. Logical, reasonable, down-to-Earth, calm, poised, elegant, tolerant, cautious. I’ve tried to be all of those things.

  I spent years trying to be what people wanted me to be, what they expected me to be. And I thought that was enough. I thought it made me happy.

  But it never made me feel like this.

  Whatever this is, I want more of it. I never want to let it go.

  So when Droth growls deep in his throat and lowers his lips to mine, I don’t hesitate to rise up on my tip-toes to meet him.

  16

  Droth

  Her lips are so soft.

  That’s the first and last thought I have before the ability to think rationally dissolves completely. Desire fills me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, surging through me like a wave, setting my blood on fire.

  I should wonder if her kind kisses like my kind does, but I don’t think of it at all. Instead, my arms snake around her waist, and I pull her so tightly to me that I can feel her heartbeat thrum against my chest.

  If I could pull her even closer than this, I would.

  My lips move against hers, tasting and devouring her. I tilt my head, and she does too. Her pretty lips part the slightest bit and my tongue slips past them, gliding against the tip of her tongue, teasing hers into meeting me.

  She wraps her arms around my shoulders and tries to stand as tall as me. She almost succeeds, and I love the feel of her body straining against mine. My beautiful, fierce mate.

  My hands are everywhere, running along whatever expanse of skin I can find. They trail over her smooth dress, run through her hair, and glide over the dip and curve of her waist.

  She gives a little gasp when my hand skims along her sides, and the sound goes right to my cock. I like that noise. I want to hear more of it.

  One of her legs lifts and wraps around my hips, and the faint smell of her arousal rises around me, swirling like spiced smoke, beckoning me to have a taste.

  Bending my knees slightly, I run my hands even lower, sliding over the curve of her backside before lifting her other leg and wrapping them both around my waist.

  Her thighs clench tightly around me as she whimpers into my mouth. Slanch. She’s right where I want her, right where my fantasies always put her. I haven’t known her long, but I’ve already imagined this almost too many times to count.

  Charlotte’s long legs are around my hips, her warm center agonizingly close to my cock. It twitches against her, straining against the feeble confines of my loincloth. I don’t know how long I can hold off before I will need to release myself and slide into my mate.

  My feet move, striding across the floor as I carry my mate over to the wall and press her back against it, pinning her body between me and the solid surface.

  Akhi. She smells so good.

  When my mouth finally leaves her kiss-swollen lips, I get lost in her eyes, dark and smoky green like a secret forest. We break eye contact, but only so I can explore her again. My nose trails along the column of her throat and I nip at the skin, testing her response.

  She goes boneless against the wall, and a long breath leaves her chest. I do it again and press my hips into hers at the same time, grinding myself into the hidden warmth beneath her gown.

  Her breath flutters through her chest, and I release one smooth leg to slip a hand between us, intent on touching every bit of her. When my fingers delve beneath the fabric that covers her core and slide through the slickness of her arousal, we both groan.

  I let my fingers explore her, curiosity and lust rising inside me side by side. I dip them inside her channel, watching as her eyelids droop. When I draw them out, I notice a small raised nub nestled between her folds.

  Using a fingertip, I trace the shape. She shudders, biting her lip and moaning quietly. Spurred on by her response, I use two fingers instead, rolling the little bud between them, the movement slow and gentle. She gasps at that and arches into my hand. My cock pulses, and my lips latch on to her neck as I growl against her skin.

  “Fuk,” she pants. “Kip dooeng thaat.”

  Slanch. I don’t know what her words mean, but the tone of her voice drives me wild.

  I have to have her now. I need to claim her. My blood is high, my breathing is heavy, my cock aching with want.

  I have to taste her first though. I have to know what she tastes like.

  The smell of her arousal is stronger than ever, coaxing me to explore the secrets of her lithe body. Unwrapping her legs from around my waist, I set her back down and drop to my knees.

  She gives a little squeak of surprise, but it cuts off on a low moan.

  I look up at her as she looks down at me, and the need I see in her eyes—the need for me—is enough to nearly undo me. She smells so good, and a hunger rises inside me as if I haven’t eaten in days.

  I push her dress up and find myself face-to-face with a piece of flimsy material. It’s the same color as her dress, but made of a different material. Curious.

  One of my hands is holding her hip, grasping it to keep her steady. The other one moves to slip between her legs again. It trails down the middle of the little clo
th covering, and Charlotte’s breath hitches.

  Remembering the way she reacted when I pressed the small nub at the top of her slit, I touch it lightly with my finger. I glide my fingertip over the tiny thing, pressing against the purple covering, and then trace around it in a slow circle.

  “Ah! Fuk!”

  I look up just in time to see Charlotte stifle her cry with the back of her hand.

  She likes this.

  I like it. I want to make her feel good, want to make her come apart.

  I push aside the purple fabric and tilt my head, absorbing what I’m seeing. When I try to move the covering more, it strains against her skin, so I rip through the little slip of fabric with ease. It falls away from her core, leaving her bare to me.

  Her body tenses as she braces herself against the wall.

  My entire world has narrowed down to this woman. Nothing else exists for me in this moment but her. I grab her hips and tilt them toward me until she’s splayed out, inches away from my mouth. The scent of her is almost enough to make me spill my seed, but I grab my cock with one hand and squeeze tightly, grappling for control.

  She’s similar to a Voxeran female, except the shape is a little different. Everything on her is smaller, and her core follows that trend. That, and the tiny thing at the top. Voxerans don’t have that. It’s obviously sensitive though, just like the nodes that run along my spine.

  I graze my finger along her core and squeeze my cock again. Everything about her is so elegant and small. I pump myself once, twice, three times, imagining how tightly she’ll squeeze me. I keep swiping my finger back and forth, watching her body’s reactions, and a delicate wetness coats the tips of my fingers, tempting me to surge to my feet and thrust into her.

  But no. I have to taste her first.

  Slowly, I lean down and lick the small nub that drew such an intense reaction from her before.

  It’s like magic. She gasps, going up onto her toes as her hips arch toward me, and the scent of her arousal grows more heady around me.