Page 10 of Alien Prince (Alien Abductions and Seductions #1)

Chapter Ten

Kyron

Being with Gemma is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. The connection we share is intense and all-consuming, drawing me in deeper with each passing moment. The way her hands moved, the way our minds intertwined, it was as if we were two halves of a whole.

But it isn’t just the physical connection that has me in awe. It is the way we both fight for control, both of us struggling to assert our dominance and desires. It's intense, a battle that leaves me breathless and exhilarated all at once, for no one has ever fought my possession before. In the beginning there is always resistance when I covet a new skin, but those who end up in my closet figure out quite quickly that assimilating is a much smoother process than resisting. And contrary to Gemini’s belief, I do not push my skins into situations without their consent. They are always in the back of my mind, and they never resist.

At this moment, it is as if I am truly alive .

The rush of emotions, the warmth of her body, it is as if the entire universe has converged together for this one moment just for us to coexist.

As Gemma lays slumped against the wall, her sweat-slicked chest heaving in the aftermath of her euphoria, spent and exhausted, I know I have found something truly special, truly mine .

For the sliver of a moment as I vacate her sinuous body, Gemma takes one last look at me.

My natural celestial form smiles, though it is not a smile as a human may give. It is a glittering light that surpasses my galaxies, shimmering like stars buried in the depths of my vast soul. The planes of my nebulous face rise with excitement, making the corners of my glowing eyes lift.

The feat is almost surreal; our celestial forms aren't meant for such things. At our core, we’re the spark of life, but we’re not physical beings. Not anymore. The destruction of our planet and my parents' ruthless drive to survive has made soulmates pointless. My siblings and I are not just the end of our lineage; we're the last of our kind.

If we had bodies, we wouldn’t need to possess skins.

That thought gnaws at me. It seems important, but I can't figure out why. It's just another cruel joke from the universe.

When she finally falls asleep, I slip away like a ghost.

Because that’s what I am now—a ghost, haunting the remains of what once was.

And perhaps that is what I truly am. I am simply a spirit that possesses, that infuses flesh and mechanical engineering, that lives inside blood and metal. Like a damn demon raised from the depths of the great void, no real purpose but to cause suffering and decay wherever I roam.

I am everything and nothing all at once.

As I look at her, sleeping for the briefest moment in tranquility, I know I can not let her go. Not now, not ever.

I know that I have found something truly special in Gemma, and I am grateful for every moment we share, both the exhilarating and the peaceful. I was a fool to think otherwise.

The truth is as terrifying as it is sentimental.

I lay next to Gemma, keeping a respectful distance.

“What if she finds out the truth?” I shift slightly, adjusting my position as I float above her, like some deranged lovesick lunatic. My face inches away from her angelic features, I reach my gaseous arm out, touching the wall. It is warm and slick, much like Gemma’s skin was a moment ago.

My fingertips slide down the hard surface and I realize all at once the severity of the situation.

I feel the metal. As a being of boundless existence, tangible contact should be beyond my senses.

I can feel the wall, without a skin…

“Find out what?” Gemma mumbles, her eyes still closed.

I slip my hand away from the metal, the overwhelming desire to hide away this notion is more than just self-preservation.

It is survival.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself,” I say, trying to play it cool. I shift again, moving slightly away from her.

She opens her eyes and looks at me, confusion etched on her face.

“Why are you talking to yourself?” Her gaze on me is prominent, heating my form like I’ve been stretched over a fire. As if I, too, am capable of overheating, but such a notion should not be possible. I neither possess a physical form or machinery.

Perhaps I am not the only ghost in the machine.

Perhaps Gemini is as double-sided as the constellation in which she was named for.

I try to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give away any of my thoughts or emotions; despite the fact that we do not share a body at the moment.

“I was just thinking out loud,” I reply, still trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

My voice resonates in the air, existing on its own, and the reality is startling.

What is happening?

Gemma sits up and rubs her eyes as she looks up at me.

“Is something bothering you? You seem a little tense, Ronny.”

Unsure of how much to reveal.

I barely know Gemma, and Mother had been more than adamant that I resist using my new skin, despite its delivery.

But I was a fool and ignored her precautions, and now I am on the verge of a self-inflicted crisis.

Which might be worth it, considering the bombastic orgasm that tore through us.

The memory of such ecstasy still reverberates in my brain, ricocheting back and forth like a meteorite free falling without destination.

The desire culminates, but I lack the physical capability to come on my own. But for the moment, I wish I could exist as Gemma does.

Alive, solid, tangible.

Not so I could touch her, but so that she could touch me.

I chuckle but continue trying not to let her perfect mouth be too distracting, though my fingers long to trace the shape of her lips. But I do not wish to break the spell of this fragile moment. I have a feeling that before too long, the Gemini I’ve only just discovered, the defiant, rebellious woman who fights me for control, will return.

“It’s just my family's bullshit.” I lie.

The words cause a new sort of spell to befall the minx before me.

Her auburn hair frames her face, her bright blue eyes glazing over with what looks like fury, anger.

Gone is the woman who was malleable under my touch, the woman who’d begged me to bring her to the pinnacle of release.

There is the true Gemini.

“They're coarse, heartless monsters who rule with a selfish reign. And I'm sorry to say that I was raised to follow in their footsteps.”

I finish, avoiding the truth, but somehow feeling even more disgusted with myself.

Gemma gives me a look that's equal parts shock and sarcasm.

“Oh, well that's just wonderful,” she says dryly. “Nothing like a little bit of existential crisis to start the day off right.”

But there's a serious undertone to her words, an implication that she clearly grasps the significance of the revelation, much more profoundly than I expected her to.

I nod, feeling a sense of relief that she understands, but also a sense of trepidation.

Is this why Mother warned me? Does Gemini know something about my family that I do not?

“I know it's not an excuse for the things they've done, or the things I've done in their name, but I need you to know that this—” I gesture to her with the faintness of my arm, the tingling in my fingertips an ominous truth. “This is not my choice. It's just what I was raised to do. It is how we exist. How we survive.”

Gemma nods, her expression serious.

“Sometimes we do terrible things in the name of survival, don’t we?” Her tone is snarky, but there's an underlying hint of understanding, and dare I say, sympathy?

What sort of terrors have you lived through, Gemini?

A sense of gratitude blooms inside of me, spinning a new galaxy in its wake. I nod towards Gemma, hoping that I am not making a grave mistake by exposing myself to her in this way.

But something deep within me tells me I can trust her, more than anyone else. Because she is my mate.

“Thank you.”

Gemma's smile fades, her expression turning guilty and almost remorseful. “Don't thank me just yet,” she says, her voice low.

It's as if our souls are intertwined, and her strength and resilience only add to her allure. I can not deny I need it.

Need her .

For without her bones, her blood, I am weak. Without her, I fear I am nothing.

Inside Gemini, I am alive.

But in her presence, I am also more than a being of infinite celestial existence.

I am a man without a body, a soul ripe for reaping.

As much as I try to deny it, there's something more than just physical attraction drawing me to Gemma. It's as if our souls are intertwined, and her strength and resilience only add to her allure. But the guilt of having to keep possessing her weighs heavily on me.

I hate myself for being like my family, using people as mere vessels to maintain our power. And yet, in order to get back to the palace, I'll have to possess Gemma once again, stealing her body and wearing it like a mask.

My celestial form, while invisible to most, cannot interact with the physical world or bypass the palace's security measures. Only by inhabiting a physical body can I navigate the treacherous path back to my royal prison.

It sickens me to think about it, using Gemma this way, and I can feel the weight of my guilt growing with each passing moment.

Loud voices and gunshots echo outside the pod, causing both of us to startle.

“Do you hear that?” she asks, but I don’t think she is legitimately expecting a response.

Gemma and I jump to our feet and scramble to look out the one-way window through the door. In our haste, our bodies briefly brush against each other. Gemma doesn’t seem to notice, that militarized hard focus stealing the soft and delicate features and plastering that determined mask on her beautiful face. Gone is the woman I saw peace and light in and here stands a warrior.

A quick glance out the window shows a group of rebels in black are going through each pod, pulling out the nobles from their dirty deeds and forcing them to admit their wrongs to a camera. Gemma's body stiffens as a slightly familiar voice yells out above the chaos, “Gemma?”

Her face shows the first signs of fear and disappointment as she turns to face the source of familiarity. The man from the bar, the one who shot her.

Panic befalls her stellar eyes, and for the inkling of a moment, I see the woman behind the mask return before hardening again and quickly gazing around the pod.

“Fucking asshole,” she spits. “Of course it’s him.”

“Who the hell is he, Gemma?” I ask, a twinge of jealousy and confusion reigniting as I watch her stare at him and the others through the window. They are only a couple doors away, and soon they will be here if we do not make a move now.

“It’s complicated,” Gemma says, her voice firm and resolute as that male voice outside once again shouts her name as she quickly readjusts her clothing.

“This man shot you. What is so complicated about that?” I growl, moving beside her as the instinct to shelter and protect what is mine takes over.

Gemma glares at me, her voice drenched in venom. “You have no right to access my memories.”

I huff out in frustration, “Perhaps if you wouldn’t project so loudly, I’d be able to ignore them.”

Her grunt of disapproval both disappoints me, but also engages me.

“This fucking carousel isn’t a free ride.” She bites.

I sigh in exasperation. Something tells me it is pointless to try and argue with her at this moment. But just because I don’t press her, doesn’t mean this conversation is over.

“Gemma!” Her name rings out again, louder, closer.

I know he can’t see me, but that doesn’t mean I am invisible. I am a force of energy all on my own, and I could easily dissuade him with possession. Infiltrate his feeble little human brain and pop him like a balloon.

But something tells me I need to keep my distance, I need to get a hold of myself. If only to avoid a fight with Gemma until we are back in the impenetrable fortress that is that stupid fucking ivory tower.

My arm brushes against Gemma’s, causing my galaxies to flutter like mere Earth hummingbirds.

Her skin against my cosmic veil is so fucking heavenly, I almost dissolve into her.

The need to possess her is strong, and I want to bury myself and all that I am in her warmth, her body. Her soul.

But now is not the time to lose focus. Not when there are criminals who threaten to take what is mine.

As if she can somehow sense my disdain and my fury, Gemini gestures towards her non-mechanical-looking, perfect leg that hums quietly with the inner workings of her newly cyborg nature and gives a small smile.

“He didn't shoot me to hurt me, Kyron. He did it to help me.” She pauses for a moment, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Help you? How does maiming you to the point of surgical enhancement help you?”

Gemini flushes her back to the wall, her breath steady and focused.

“It landed me in your closet, for one,” she says with a smirk. “And last I checked, you didn’t seem too torn up about the matter.”

I huff in annoyance. How dare she joke around at a time like this!

“We need to get you out of here, safely,” I growl.

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Really, Ronny? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a knight in shimmering galaxies.”

My proverbial jaw tightens. “And now, here we are.”

Suspended in the air, as if time itself is holding its breath, we both wait for the next shoe to drop. For the human to open our door.

I nod, trying to understand the situation.

This woman is insufferable.

“And why do you think he's here now?” I ask.

“Knowing Raif, he’s probably here to rescue me,” Gemma says, her voice laced with annoyance. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he has been keeping tabs since the club, even though he knows he shouldn’t. But we can't take any chances. We need to get out of here safely.”

Gemma seems to have a close connection to this Raif guy, but it's a bit concerning how easily he found her. Is she drawn to him too, or is he just that good at playing hide and seek?

“And how do you propose we do that?” I ask, bringing my thoughts back to our reality and stuffing the jealousy down deep. “You don’t happen to have a plan stored in that oh so helpful leg of yours, now do you?’

Gemma rolls her eyes, her expression serious.

“Well, I was thinking we could just waltz out of here, holding hands and singing 'Kumbaya'.”

She pauses, her tone becoming more serious.

“But actually, I was thinking you could possess me, and we'll try to make our escape that way. It'll be easier to move one body than two. And I want access to your memories, buddy boy, but only the ones that pertain to the location of where the fuck we are and how to get back to the palace.”

The urgency of our situation leaves me with little choice as the screams and Raif's persistent calls of her name grow louder, increasing my already growing hatred. She can say whatever she wants about his reasoning, but people don’t just shoot someone to “help” them. She’s either incredibly stupid— unlikely—or she has feelings for this man and would take more than just a bullet to protect him. Tough luck, she’s mine now, and I’m never letting him hurt her again. Even if that means turning myself into the monster she believes I am.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But only the memories that pertain to our location and the directions back.” She’s not as sly as she wants to think she is and I’m not as dumb as I look.

Gemma nods, her expression serious once again.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I focus on her mind. As I slip into her body, I feel her thoughts and emotions swirling around me, but I push them aside, concentrating only on our escape.

Let me handle this. Gemma demands more than asks, but I have other plans.

“Raif!” I shoot out in Gemma’s voice, her surprise striking her silent for the first time, well, ever.

As Raif spots us and starts to make his way to us, he barks out a command to his lackeys to hold their fire. When their weapons are all stowed, and I have his full attention, I channel my best impression of Gemma and her doe-eyed look that tells me everything I need to know about how he feels about her.

And that’s when I strike, casting him a glare that is all me, that tells him this is not his Gemma. Not by a long shot, and as far as I’m concerned, she’ll never be his anything ever again.

I take off like a bat out of hell in the opposite direction, and I don’t stop. Gemma’s enhancements more than aid us both in speed and impact. Her heavy boots hit the hard pavement once we’ve cleared the hallway, and I can hear Raif behind us.

What the fuck was that? she hisses in our shared space.

Kumbaya, motherfucker.

Gemma scoffs at me. Real mature, Ronny.

Her breath catches in her throat as our shared muscles burn from the adrenaline and the instincts that have taken over.

Raif’s voice, and shots ring out, but they are fading.

They can not catch us, because my Gemma is better with me.

She is faster, stronger, and more powerful than she even realizes.

Wow, Raif sure is being helpful today. Maybe if we're lucky, he'll shoot you again to give us a head start , I tease. You know, just to keep things interesting.

As we slip out of the pods and into the night, I can't help but wonder what Gemma has seen in her life, what experiences have led her to this moment. She moves with a determination that both impresses and intrigues me, like someone with a fire lit from within.

We dash through the city, our breaths mingling with the smoke and grime of the slums. The desperation of the streets is palpable, and I can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the luxury I’m about to slip back into. The dimly lit alleys and narrow passages offer us some cover, but the ever-watchful eyes of the sentinels make every step a calculated risk. Gemma’s eyes flicker with a mix of defiance and fear, a look that seems all too familiar.

As we near the ivory palace, its pristine walls starkly contrasting with the filth we've just traversed, my heart races. The palace looms ahead, a symbol of everything I despise yet am bound to protect. We sneak through the less-guarded servants’ entrance, our movements synchronized and silent. The grandeur of the palace feels almost suffocating after the raw reality of the slums.

Finally, we make it back to safety. Gemma collapses onto the floor, panting and exhausted. The sight of her, so fierce and vulnerable, ignites something within me. This girl is more than just another pawn in this celestial game. There's a strength in her that I can't ignore, a fire that mirrors my own discontent with this cursed life.

“Nice to see the palace hasn't changed,” Gemma mutters between breaths, sarcasm dripping from her words.

Welcome to my nightmare.

With a deep breath, I begin to separate myself from her, feeling the familiar sensation of disconnection. As I fully exit her body, Gemma gasps and rolls over onto her knees. It must hurt her too, and again, the guilt of invading her body and mind hits me like a meteor slamming into a planet's surface. Breathing heavily, she struggles to stand and instincts kick in as she sways on her feet, falling to her knees.

“Are you okay?” I ask, checking on her. She looks up at me with a tired smirk, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but still managing to muster that familiar snark.

“Oh, just peachy,” she replies, sarcasm dripping from her words. “Never been better, really.”

I don't want to leave her, especially not after everything that has happened between us. But she needs rest and I need to collect my own thoughts. I have to get as far away from her as possible. It hurts to leave her, like ripping myself from her is tearing my soul apart. A hollowness gnaws at my chest, leaving me feeling as vulnerable as a newly hatched star. The cosmic void that once embraced me now seems to stretch endlessly, its cold tendrils wrapping around my very essence

I reach down to help Gemma up, fully expecting my hand to pass right through her, as it's done with everyone else besides my family. As my fingers brush her arm, an electric shock jolts through my body. My breath catches in my throat as warmth radiates from the point of contact, spreading like wildfire across my skin. My heart races, pounding against my chest as if trying to escape. I've never felt anything like this before - the softness of her skin, the gentle pulse beneath my fingertips. It's intoxicating, overwhelming. I want to pull away, to shield myself from this new, intense sensation, but I'm frozen in place, caught between fear and fascination.

Startled, I jerk my hand back, eyes wide with disbelief. Gemma remains on her hands and knees, panting, her breath ragged. Her icy blue eyes snap to mine, filled with confusion and something else—fear? Anger? It's hard to tell.

For a moment, time stands still. My heart pounds in my nebulous chest, each beat echoing the impossible reality of what just happened. Cautiously, I reach out again, this time letting my fingers lightly graze her cheek. Her skin is soft, warm, and very real.

She flinches but then leans into my touch, her breath hitching.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“I—I can touch you,” I stammer, my voice barely more than a breath.

Her eyes narrow, suspicion and curiosity battling for dominance.

“But it doesn't mean you can just... touch me.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I'm sorry,” I murmur, my hand dropping to my side. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Gemma's gaze softens, and she shifts to sit back on her heels, still catching her breath. “It's okay,” she says, her tone gentler. “Just... be careful.”

I lower myself to the ground, sitting across from her, our faces inches apart. “I never imagined this,” I admit, my voice hushed. “Being able to touch you... It’s surreal.”

She gives a small, tired smile. “Surreal for you? Imagine how it feels for me,” she quips, a hint of humor in her weary voice.

I chuckle softly, the sound surprising even me. “Fair point,” I concede. “But... I'm glad it's you.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world outside our little bubble fades away. There's a vulnerability in her gaze that mirrors my own, a silent understanding passing between us.

“Me too,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Without thinking, I reach out and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She doesn't pull away this time, her eyes fluttering closed at the gentle touch. The connection I felt in that brief moment lingers, an electric charge in the air between us.

But now isn't the time for such thoughts. I have a duty to uphold, even as my mind races with the newfound possibilities this strange connection has opened up.

As I lift her into my arms, I'm fighting the urge to react and just stand there in shock, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. It's an incredible feeling, and I can't help but wonder what it would be like to experience this kind of physical touch with someone who wasn't just a vessel for me to possess.

Once I lay her down and tuck her in, I can't tear my gaze away from her hand, her tiny fingers wrapped around mine. The electric thrill of her skin against my own is almost too much to bear, and I find myself squeezing her hand gently, savoring the sensation a little longer.

“I need to go,” I say, my voice trembling..

She nods, her eyes filled with unspoken yearning. “I know.”

I hesitate, the urge to say more battling with my fear of crossing a line. My heart pounds in my chest as I lean closer, our breaths mingling.

“Get some rest,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Gemma's eyes flutter shut, her lips parting as she murmurs, “I will.”

The tension between us is palpable, each second stretching into eternity as I fight the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

I start to pull away, but her grip tightens around my fingers.

“Don't go,” she whispers, her voice laced with vulnerability.

My heart aches at her plea. I lean down, my lips brushing against her scarred knuckles in a tender kiss.

“I have to,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

She reluctantly loosens her hold, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. I stand up, feeling the weight of my emotions pressing down on me. She lies back, her eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion takes over. With one last lingering look, I watch her drift into sleep before I glide out of the closet, leaving my heart behind in a tangled mess of emotions.

As I slip out of the room, I almost crash into Boomer, who's blocking the doorway. His six arms are busy—one hand holds a wrench, another a tiny screwdriver before returning them to his utility belt, while a third lights a cigar. Our eyes meet, not in surprise, but with a profound understanding that cuts through me. It dawns on me—Boomer can see me. For the second time, someone other than a celestial can see me outside of a skin.

Oh shit.

Boomer nods, a silent admission that he witnessed everything. The weight of the situation crashes over me, making it hard to breathe. My form is growing more corporeal, more tangible, because I've found my mate. It hits me like a tidal wave—she truly is mine.

“How much did you see?” I ask him, my voice trembling as he closes the giant doors behind me. His hands don’t stop fidgeting—one twirls a key, another adjusts his belt, and yet another scratches at his chin before removing the cigar from his lips.

“Enough to say you’re in deep shit, Kyron. Wait until your mother learns you’ve got yer’self a mate.”