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Then I turned it back on, because I could not hide from what I hated. I needed to see.

She was bred in the huge coliseum on Colossus. She was fucked like a pleasure toy in front of a huge crowd of Aurelian warriors, by the three members of her triad, turned into nothing but a broodmare in front of the crowd. A public conquest.

A bright, intelligent scientist, crucial to the Cyborg program, which is the key to the Aurelian victory, reduced to nothing but a pool of submission, treated like a whore in front of the alien species. Fucked by all three of Prince Bruton’s royal triad. I watched them seed her, roaring out in victory. I watched their thick, pearly cum stream from her stretched slit, marking her as theirs.

Forever.

I grit my teeth together.

That willneverbe my fate. And I will not become the bride of these arrogant warriors, who think of us as lesser. Pentaris has never allowed Aurelians into our borders, and I will not allow these cunning three to penetrate our sovereignty.

4

PRINCE DOMAN

“By the Gods, I feel like I just went twelve rounds with a Bullfrog. Bare-knuckle,” growls Titus, shaking his head in admiration, his thick black hair cascading with the movement. He traces his fingers over the huge diamond hanging from his neck.

“She planned for us taking her prisoner. The two Administrators she brought are from Magnar and Terosa—neutrality be damned, they are votes to accept our plan. She was willing to sacrifice herself, stuck in a jail cell because she knew the trio voted to replace them would be hardliners.”

“A woman willing to give up her freedom for her people.” I stare at the door where she left, every instinct in me telling me to go after her. I breathe in the air, and her scent is still there—light floral shampoo, no perfume, her own clean, natural scent.

It enrages me. She should be thick with the scent of a potential mate. The ring around my finger cuts me from my true nature, from my deepest self.

Adriana Hart. A beautiful, willowy creature, pure femininity despite her bland, gray drab. I picture her in a pleasure dress, light green, so thin her body would be on display, every curveof her perfection revealed, enticing me. There is a spike in my being, an urge stronger than I have ever had before. My heart pounds.

My battle-brothers feel the change in my aura, looking over at me in consternation. I’ve led them into battle a thousand times, and they feel the anticipation flowing through me as if I am about to draw my blade and charge. I groan, pressing my hands against my forehead, trying to get control of myself.

“What is it, Doman?” Gallien fixes me with a hard glance, while Titus scans the room, his hand on the hilt of his blade, searching for a threat.

My hand shakes. I run it through my hair.

My hundred years of Academy forged me, my time in the Aurelian army honed me, and I pride myself on my total control. I’ve bit down fear before charging into Scorp nests, I’ve kept my nerve with missiles turning the ground where I was a moment before into a pit of fire.

My lips curl back as I lose the war against myself.

In a sudden movement, I rip the Bond-disruptor ring from my finger, throwing it to the ground, and breathe in.

Her scent fills my nostrils. It comes at me in a wave, slamming into the core of my being, controlling me. The Mating Rage boils up, fiercer than ever before, and I am starving for her, my cock throbbing as it thickens into an iron rod that tents my robe. My heart pounds, and my manhood aches, so hard it is painful, every muscle in my body tensing and screaming for release. Every instinct in me roars to life, to grab her, rip her clothes from her body, spread her legs and claim her, binding her to me for eternity.

I throw back my head, the primal roar echoing in the throne hall, and I sprint before I know what I am doing, my legs eating up the marble ground as I charge towards the doors like I am going into combat. My boots slam, my hands clenched into fistsas my nostrils flare, breathing in, desperate for every taste of her scent.

My hand wraps around the door handle when Titus and Gallien tackle me, their huge bulks pressing me down. I fight against them, enraged, but I lose all technique, struggling like a beast until Gallien gets me into a chokehold, squeezing his bicep around my throat. I reach my hands up to fight him off, and Titus grabs my finger, forcing the blue-black ring over my digit.

My mind clears, instantly. The Mating Rage dissipates as I breathe in and taste her scent, devoid of the essence of my Fated Mate that drove me mad with need.

It still tastes right, and good, despite being blackened with hatred and anger, but it is missing its most essential essence, the essence that means we are bound together. It is like a painting in black and white, but I’ve seen it in full color, just for a moment, and now my world is gray and empty, colors muted, the cold white marble of my throne room sterile and bland. Just a moment ago, the walls seemed to gleam and glow, everything brighter in my eyes when I was mad with my desire for her.

My cock aches, the throb slowing as it softens. It was harder than ever before, filled with blood until it was a thick, pulsing rod that guided me towards her. My white ceremonial robes are darkened by wet seed, stained by the thick globs of pre-cum designed for us to breed tight human slits.

She is so small, so perfect, and when we are Bonded together, her body will change. She will be molded to take every inch of me deep inside of her, and when she is fat with my child, her…

I growl in anger, directed at myself for my weakness, panting in exertion as Gallien’s arm is tight around my throat. Titus states down at me with hard, gray eyes as he searches my aura and feels my emotions that I cannot contain.

“You good?” Gallien grunts out from behind me. I can barely breathe, and I nod my head ever so slightly. He releases me,slowly, and Titus extends his hand, lifting me to my feet. I run my hand through my hair, slick with sweat.

“Forgive me, my triad,” I say, wracked with emotion.

I am not only the leader of the triad. I am crown prince of my empire, and my every action represents more than myself. I cannot be only a man, weak to a man’s desire. I need to transcend myself to lead my troops.