Page 14 of Alien Prince (Alien Abductions and Seductions #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Kyron

We finally make it to the underground base. The air is thick with tension and smells of mold and decay. Raif leads the way, while Gemma forces herself to stand and walk on her own. She looks as physically stable as a leaf in a storm, and I try to make it look like I’m a love-sick puppy constantly touching her, when in reality, I'm supporting my mate.

Gemma, are you okay? I ask telepathically, my concern laced with the mental connection we share. Her determination is admirable, but I feel the tremors running through her body. Every step she takes is a testament to her willpower, and it makes me love her even more.

Perfectly fine , she responds, her mental voice strong despite her physical weakness. Fine enough to climb you like a tree later .

I can't help but chuckle inwardly. Is that a promise or a threat? I tease, my mental tone light and flirtatious.

Maybe both, she shoots back, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. Depends how well you hold up under pressure.

Oh, I can handle the pressure, Gemma. You know that. I flirt back, my eyes twinkling with mischief. Question is: can you keep up with me?

Keep up with you? She scoffs mentally, though I sense the playful challenge in her mind. Ky, I've been keeping up with you my whole life. You're the one who needs to keep up with me.

I catch her eye and give her a reassuring smile, which she returns weakly. As we enter the dimly lit chamber, a wave of unease washes over me. These are enemies, and for the first time in my life, I feel genuine fear. The walls seem to close in, and the air is heavy with anticipation.

Stay close to me , I tell her mentally, my protectiveness flaring up. I won't let anything happen to you.

I can take care of mysel f, she replies, but there's a softness to her mental tone that tells me she appreciates my concern. These people are family. But thanks for the backup.

Always , I respond, my mental voice filled with affection. Now, let's get through this so you can make good on that tree-climbing promise.

Deal , she agrees, Her mental laughter ripples through our connection, easing the tension I didn't realize I was holding. But remember, Ky, I'm the one in charge here.

A woman steps forward from the shadows, her eyes widening as they lock onto mine. I recognize her face—one of my mother's ex skins—but I don't know her name. She doesn’t seem to recognize me, but shock fills her eyes as she sees me, a celestial who is supposed to be unseen, invisible. I start to introduce myself, but I'm cut off.

“Cassie, this is Ky—”

Before she can finish, a man steps forward, his presence commanding. He looks at me with a mix of gratitude and relief.

“Thank you for getting Gemma out,” he says, his voice strong yet filled with emotion. “I am Vitus Starling, Gemma's father.”

The tension in the room shifts as I process the revelation. Vitus extends a hand towards me, his eyes reflecting a lifetime of struggle and resilience.

Two more people step out from behind him. Their faces are unmistakable—skins once worn by my family. Seeing them now, a flood of emotions hits me. There's a profound sadness in witnessing their fate, yet a sense of relief that they haven't been discarded. As I wrestle with these conflicting feelings, Vitus's gaze shifts to Gemma. A silent exchange occurs between father and daughter, laden with tension.

“Please, don't,” she implores, her voice trembling. “He's not like them.” Vitus remains composed, his expression a mix of calm and regret.

“I'm sorry,” he says, his tone measured but unyielding.

He nods to Raif, and with a hint of hesitation, Raif steps towards me, capturing me in a firm but gentle grip. I struggle, my mind racing, but Gemma's voice echoes in my consciousness.

“Raif, what are you doing?” I hiss through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to fight back. Every instinct screams at me to break free, but I force myself to remain calm. I can't afford to prove them right about me being a monster.

Raif's eyes flicker with uncertainty, his grip tightening around my wrists. “I'm sorry, Kyron,” he mutters, his voice laced with regret. “I have to do this.”

I take a deep breath, consciously relaxing my muscles. Fighting now would only make things worse, confirming their fears about celestials. Instead, I meet Raif's gaze steadily, letting him see my resignation. It's a calculated risk, but one I hope will pay off in the long run.

With a deep breath, Raif pulls a sleek, metallic device from his belt. The handcuff is unlike anything I've seen before—its surface shimmers with a faint, iridescent glow, and intricate patterns pulse with a soft blue light. He presses a button, and the device unfurls, revealing a series of interconnected rings that seem to float in mid-air.

As Raif secures the cuffs, I feel my power being suppressed, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to lash out.

But then I think of Gemma, her fierce eyes, her unwavering trust in me. For her, I can endure this. I force my muscles to relax, adopting a mask of indifference even as frustration churns inside me. The cuffs hum against my skin, a constant reminder of my current predicament. But I'm not defeated. Not even close.

I'll play along for now, prove to these humans that I'm not the threat they fear. And when the time comes, I'll show them just what a celestial can do.

All for Gemma.

Always for Gemma.

“These cuffs are designed to suppress celestial abilities,” Raif explains, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won't be able to use your powers while they're on.”

Not that I would use my abilities on them anyways. I’m here to be an ally , to show my support against my family.

I glare at him, my anger simmering beneath the surface. “You don't have to do this, Raif. There's another way.”

Raif's expression softens for a moment, but he quickly steels himself. “I'm sorry, Kyron. This is the only way to ensure your safety—and ours.”

“Stop this, Father! This is bullshit!” Gemma's voice rings out, slicing through the tense atmosphere. She steps forward, her eyes blazing with fury and defensiveness. “You can't just take him like this. He's done nothing wrong!”

Vitus turns to face her, his expression a mix of stern resolve and paternal concern. “Gemma, you need to understand. This is for everyone's safety.”

“No!” Gemma explodes, her voice cracking with emotion. “You don't get it. He's my mate! You can see him because he's mine!” Her declaration hangs in the air, a potent mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Vitus's eyes soften, and he puts his head down for a moment before stepping closer to his daughter. He gently grabs her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze.

“I know,” he whispers, his voice filled with a sorrowful understanding. “I know.”

Tears well up in Gemma's eyes, but she stands her ground, her body trembling with the effort to keep her emotions in check. “How do you know?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “How could you possibly know about us?”

Vitus leans in closer, his voice barely audible as he continues to whisper to her. “Because sometimes we have to make difficult choices to protect the ones we love. Trust me.”

As Raif begins to escort me away, Gemma's eyes never leave mine, a mixture of determination and desperation etched across her face. Her father's words seem to have a calming effect, but the fire in her eyes remains undiminished.

I'll find a way to get you out, she promises, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill over.

With my hands bound and my powers suppressed, I have no choice but to comply. As Raif leads me deeper into the base, the corridor narrows. The walls are damp, and the air is thick with a musty, earthy scent. It's a stark contrast to the opulence of the grand hall we left behind. But despite the dire situation, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

Her reassurance washes over me like a cool breeze, calming the storm of anxiety within. I stop resisting, allowing Raif to take me. I trust Gemma, and I know she'll find a way to help me. The fear that had been gnawing at me takes a backseat to the calm her voice brings.

As we are led deeper into the base, the corridor narrows. Finally, we reach a secluded chamber with a large glass cell in the center. The cell is encircled by a blue glow with an excessive number of electrical wires and strange tubes connected to it. It’s clear this is no ordinary holding cell.

Raif approaches a nearby console and swipes his key card. The glass door slides open with a soft hiss. He glances at me, his shoulders tense. “Ky, this cell is designed to nullify your abilities,” he explains, his voice tinged with regret. “You won't be able to escape.”

I nod, understanding the necessity. Without hesitation, I step forward and walk into the cell. As I cross the threshold, I can feel the energy field enveloping me, suppressing my powers. “I get it, Raif,” I say, turning to face him as the door closes behind me. “You did what you had to do.”

He sighs, looking sheepishly at his feet. “Gemma will be here soon. If I know my best friend, she's not following her father's orders.”

As if on cue, the door bursts open, and Gemma rushes in. Her eyes are full of tears she's trying to hold back, and a look of fury is plastered on her face.

“Ky!” Gemma exclaims, her voice breaking as she takes in the sight of me in the cell. “I'm so sorry. I'd bust you out right now if...”

I manage a small smile, despite the situation. “If what, Gemma?”

Her lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through the tears. “If I didn't trust that my father has a plan. He knows more than he's letting on about the celestials, Ky. I can feel it.”

I nod, trying to hide the flicker of doubt in my eyes. There's so much I want to ask, so many questions swirling in my mind. But as I look at Gemma, I see the unwavering determination in her gaze, and I feel my doubts melt away. trust you.”

She nods, her expression determined as she reaches out to touch the glass. “I'm not giving up on you, Ky. Not now, not ever.”

Raif steps back, giving us a moment. “I'll keep watch,” he says, his tone apologetic as he leaves the room.

Gemma's eyes remain fixed on mine, filled with a mixture of relief and determination. “We'll get you out of here, Ky. I promise.”

I nod, feeling a surge of hope. “I know you will, Gemma. I trust you.”

But the moment is fleeting. The door swings open, and Raif stomps back in, shaking his head and mumbling, “True love and this bullshit, or whatever. I swear, I can't fully understand it. I'm such an idiot, I'm going to get fucking reamed for this. Seriously, who writes this stuff?”

He barges over to the control panel and swipes his card, opening the door to the cell. Gemma and I just stare at him, confused and breathless, trying to process what's happening.

Raif looks at us with a mix of snark and light sarcasm. “You have one hour before the first round of interrogation is set to begin. If you want to spend any time together, you'd better get your ass into that cell,” he says, his tone dripping with irony.

He walks off, shouting a reminder over his shoulder. “One hour, and I'll be right outside the door!” He grumbles about sounds and the ick, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

Gemma and I exchange a bewildered look, but as soon as the door closes, everything else fades away. The possibility of escape, my desire to earn her father's trust, my ambition to join the resistance and end my family's reign of terror - all of it dissipates like mist in the morning sun.

At this moment, there's only Gemma and me.

She turns to me, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sets my soul on fire. Without a word, she steps forward and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is fierce and hungry, a release of all the pent-up emotions we've been feeling.

For the first time, I'm touching her with my own skin, feeling her warmth against my true self. It's intoxicating, overwhelming, and absolutely perfect.

Nothing else matters but this connection, this moment of raw intimacy between us.

Her hands fumble with my cuffs, her fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness. With a swift swipe of her key card, the cuffs fall away, clattering to the floor. A smile spreads across her face as she sees my hands finally free. “Looks like Dad forgot to fully restrict my access,” she whispers, a hint of mischief in her voice. “His oversight, our gain.” Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close against my body. The feeling of her warmth against me, it’s intoxicating.

Our bodies move in perfect sync, each touch igniting a fire within us. A burning desire, no longer contained, consumes us both. Clothes are discarded hastily, falling to the floor in a chaotic heap. Soon, we are lost in a whirlwind of passion, finally able to explore each other without barriers.

It's raw and primal, a connection that transcends words. Her skin is warm and smooth beneath my fingertips, and every touch sends shivers of pleasure through my body. Her breath is hot against my neck, her soft moans a desperate melody in my ears. My hands roam her curves, feeling the tautness of her muscles and the softness of her flesh.

Our movements are urgent, driven by an insatiable need. I lift her, my hands gripping her ass as her legs wrap tightly around my waist. I press her against the cold glass wall of the cell, the contrast heightening the intensity of our connection. Her nails dig into my back, a delicious pain that fuels my desire.

I turn with her in my arms and toss her onto the cot. It's a small bed, but I don't need much room for what I have planned. I fall to my knees, pulling her to the edge of the bed by her knees, spreading her wide. My mouth waters at the sight of her slick, inviting folds, and without hesitation, I bury my face between her thighs, devouring her with primal hunger.

Her cries fill the room, each one spurring me on as I lick and suck, my tongue delving deep into her wetness and exploring every inch. Her hands clutch at the sheets, her back arching off the bed as she surrenders completely to the waves of pleasure crashing through her.

She moans, her voice dripping with desire. “Don't stop, please don't stop.”

I feel her body trembling, the muscles in her legs quivering as she teeters on the edge of release.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” she pants, her words raw and breathless. “Your tongue feels amazing inside me. More. I need more.”

When she finally comes, her screams echo through the chamber, a symphony of raw ecstasy that leaves me breathless.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” she cries out, her voice hoarse and desperate. But it's not enough. Her eyes, glazed with lust, lock onto mine. “Please,” she begs, “I need your cock. I need it so bad. Fill me up, make me yours.”

I see the desperate hunger in her gaze, the need undeniable. “Fuck me,” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation.

As I enter her, a surge of electricity courses through my veins, making my entire body tingle with an overwhelming intensity. It's the first time I'm doing this with my own body, and the sensation is almost too much to bear. Her warmth envelops me, and I feel her body clenching around me, drawing me in deeper.

“God, you're so tight,” I murmur against her ear, my voice husky with desire. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Her breath hitches, and she digs her nails into my back, her voice a sultry whisper. “Don't stop. I need you so badly.”

We move together in a frenzy of passion, our bodies crashing together like waves against the shore. The room is filled with the sounds of our moans and the rhythmic slap of our bodies colliding. Each thrust drives us closer to the edge, and I can feel the bond between us growing stronger with every movement.

“Fuck, Kyron,” she pants, her hips meeting mine with each thrust. “You're mine. Only mine.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, and in that moment, everything else fades away. It's just us, together, in a world that has tried to tear us apart. Her gaze is filled with a mixture of lust and love, a reflection of the emotions swirling within me. I lean down and capture her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all my feelings into the act.

“I need you,” I whisper against her lips. “I need you more than anything.”

“Then take me,” she replies breathlessly. “Make me yours completely.”

I increase my pace, each thrust more powerful than the last. Her moans grow louder, and I can feel her body trembling beneath me. The intensity of our connection is almost overwhelming, but I don't want it to end. I want to stay in this moment forever.

“You're so fucking perfect,” I groan, my voice thick with emotion. “I can't get enough of you.”

She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper inside her. “Harder,” she demands. “I want to feel you everywhere.”

We reach our peak together, our bodies shuddering with the force of our release. The intensity of the moment leaves us both breathless, our hearts pounding in unison. As we collapse onto the bed, our bodies entwined, a sense of peace washes over me as I wrap her in my arms and hold my mate in a tight embrace.

After the second round of fucking—because that's what this is, not the slow, soft, and emotional lovemaking I yearn for with my mate, but the desperate, frantic coupling of two souls afraid of when they'll be together again—she lies on her stomach, her head resting on my chest, watching the stars that shimmer beneath my skin. By now, I'm certain she's traced each and every one with her tongue.

The room is filled with a heavy silence, broken only by our ragged breaths. Her fingers tremble as they draw idle patterns on my flesh, but there's an unspoken terror in her touch, a fear that this might be our last chance to hold each other. The weight of our uncertain future hangs over us like a dark cloud, casting long shadows on our fleeting moments of intimacy.

My heart aches with the realization that every second we have together is borrowed time. The dread gnaws at the edges of my mind, making each touch, each kiss, feel like a desperate attempt to imprint our love onto one another, to hold onto something real in a world that constantly threatens to tear us apart.

As she nestles closer, her breath warm against my skin, I feel the unspoken words lingering between us. Words of fear, of longing, of a love that feels too fragile to last. And in this moment I hold her tighter, praying that somehow time will grant us the mercy of one more night.

“You're mine,” I murmur, tracing my fingers along her spine. “And I'm yours.”

“Always,” she whispers back, her voice full of unwavering certainty.

We lie there, tangled in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of our intense union. Our bodies may be spent, but our bond is stronger than ever, and I know that we belong to each other in every way that matters.

The door creaks open and Raif's voice breaks the silence. “It's time.”

I nod, squeezing Gemma's hand one last time. We rise, slowly taking our time dressing, and as she’s tugging on the tight grey shirt over her body, I snatch her into my arms and kiss her. Mine.

She laughs and kisses me back.

Mine, she thinks and together we step out into the corridor hand in hand.

As Raif leads us back to the main chamber, he glances over his shoulder with a smirk. “You know, your dad is so not going to like any of this. I'm so dead.”

Gemma rolls her eyes but can't help a small smile. “You always say that. Yet here you are, still alive and kicking.”

He chuckles, his tone lightening the tension. “Yeah, well, it's only because I'm so charming. But seriously, if he finds out about this, I'm blaming you.”

“Of course you will,” Gemma replies, shaking her head.

We arrive in the main chamber, and Vitus is waiting, a sly, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“I see you two had some... quality time together,” Vitus says with a raised eyebrow, his tone a mix of resignation and amusement. “While I can't say I'm thrilled, I suppose it was inevitable.” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable but trying to maintain his composure. “Now, let's focus on the matters at hand, shall we?”

Gemma and I exchange awkward glances, our cheeks flushing as we shift uncomfortably. I scratch the back of my neck, while Gemma fiddles with the hem of her shirt, both of us trying to avoid Vitus's knowing gaze. It's impossible to ignore the sheer absurdity of the situation—the man who locked me up not long ago is now fully aware that I’ve had the audacity to bed his daughter. Now, I’m positive he’s going to shoot me. I don’t think he’ll kill you, but I’ve never seen him like this.

Oh goody, I get to be the guinea pig to test whether or not your dad will murder your boyfriend—

Mate. Her response and claim as my mate has the stars under my shirt glowing so brightly beneath my skin that I’m basically a damn rave light show at this point. Strike that as yet another point against me, as her very armed and very dangerous looking father stares at me with a grin that could only be described as predatory. As Vitus steps closer, my bravado falters for a moment.

“Sir, if I may—”

“You may not,” he interrupts, his grin widening. “But by all means, continue to entertain me,” he says, gesturing to the ridiculous glow of my now milky white, hazy but still transparent skin.

I gulp, feeling the stars beneath my skin pulse almost rhythmically, like a countdown to my imminent demise. “You know, I always thought dying would be less... awkward.” Gemma tries to stifle a laugh. I have no idea what's so funny, but I'm pretty sure I'm just seconds away from dying a painfully slow death, proving once and for all that I am the dumbest celestial to ever exist.

“Gemma, tell your mate to calm the fuck down, he looks like he’s about to explode.” I let out a slow breath that I absolutely knew I was holding in as she entwines our fingers together.

Vitus's expression softens, but his eyes remain sharp as he looks at me. “We have a lot to discuss, your highness,” he says, his tone measured. “I might trust that you care for my daughter, but I need your loyalty.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing.

“I have questions,” he adds, gesturing for the doors to shut behind us.

And as the door closes behind us, I know this is not the end.

It’s only the beginning.

The End

SPECIAL PREVIEW - Fated To The Alien Enforcer

Sabella

The palace is usually so quiet it’s unnerving, but not today.

Today it is bustling with noise, which wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have a bloody headache from a night of overindulgence.

I swear this skin is wearing thinner by the day. Before long I’ll have to retire her, which is a damn pity. I think she’s rather pretty.

I groan as a loud clanging echoes in the hallway, forcing myself off the chaise if only to investigate what the fuck is actually going on out there.

Is Ky having another one of his ‘I don’t want to rule’ temper tantrums or something?

Except when I open the door, I don’t see Ky anywhere. But what I do see is a plethora of guards running, weapons in hand as shouts echo in the hallway.

Well, that’s odd.

I saunter down the hall, but even in my royal skin, they do not see me. No one ever sees me, not really.

Not unless I am half-naked on top of a table with a boatload of alcohol already in me, with my oversized tits hanging out, that is. My kind is not meant to be seen the naked eye, not when I am in my true form.

Being the youngest can be utterly infuriating on its own, but when you are both the baby and a girl, somehow it’s astronomically harder to get anyone to take you seriously, which is why I stopped bothering years ago.

I’m half convinced that no one would bat an eye if I disappeared. Partly because we change skins all the time, so disappearing for my kind just means going off the radar completely, which would never happen. Like when my brother, Raphael died. To the public, he is dead, but to me he is alive and well, jumping from skin to skin and indulging in anonymity. But he is also, a man, and as such, his life is full of those turning a blind eye.

I could never be so lucky.

Because I’m a princess.

More like a prisoner.

My curiosity soon turns to panic as I see my mother, waltzing down the hall with an angry glare.

Great, what did I do this time to piss her off?

“Sabella,” she barks, her tone unsympathetic and cold. But I’ve never known her to be anything but a bitch, so her tone doesn’t affect me as it probably should.

But the flicker of panic in her eyes tells me otherwise.

Something has happened.

And that makes my blood chill.

Thank the heavens for skins. They process things so much faster, so much better than I can because their disposition to emotion is unsurmountable.

“Mother,” I say, addressing her well-used skin as she grabs me by the arm, yanking me into the nearest room.

“Ow! That hurts!” I whine.

“Hush!” she hisses, but she does not let go.

Her fingernails dig into my flesh and she grips me hard. So hard, I can feel her shake. I look to where she holds me, noticing she is bleeding.

Blood trails down her arm, pooling between her fingers, spreading onto my skin.

I try to pull away, but she only grips me harder, and I half worry she will break this feeble skin’s bones.

Now that would be a real pity.

“I need you to do something for me.” She says, her breath labored. The stench of blood reaches my nostrils and I have to fight the urge to gag.

I’ve never been a fan of blood like some of my family.

Panic surges through me at the thought of what she wants. Knowing my mother, it can’t be good.

Raphael assured me because of my youth, and my older brothers standings, I would likely be able to slip by without much attention from our mother as long as I kept a low profile.

That profile being the spoiled party-going royal who couldn’t be trusted to stay sober long enough to do anything important.

I wish I could say it was an act, but the truth is much more complicated than that. I want to matter to my mother, to my father, and my brothers.

I want to be more than just some cosmic being flitting from skin to skin to survive. To be seen, heard—felt.

I want to be seen for who I am, not just my title or someone else's face.

The problem is, I’m not entirely sure who I am.

“What?” I ask, my voice wavering only slightly.

“There is a mole in the palace.” She says. I can’t stop staring at the blood on her hands, and part of me wonders if it is hers or someone else’s…

She winces, her free hand grabbing her side, and that’s when I see it. Blood.

Thick, crimson blood staining her precious ivory skirts.

I want to help, to ask her what happened, but she grabs my chin, forcing me to look into her dark eyes.

Her grip on me hurts like hell and I can’t move, forced to endure her verbal lashing.

“A…mole?” I ask as the word settles on me.

She growls. “Yes, Sabella, do I need to spell it out for you, too?”

I purse my lips as she continues.

“I need you to do what you do best,” she gripes.

“What is that?” I ask, afraid of her answer.

“No one knows the gossip of this god-forsaken place like you.” She says, and for a moment I am remiss to believe she is actually paying me a compliment.

But soon enough, her killing blow strikes.

“I don’t care if you have to let the town crier fuck you over the stove. You will find out who he is and you will deliver him to me with an apple stuffed in his fucking mouth. Do I make myself clear?”

I blink, afraid to speak as the shame festers in me once more.

That’s all I am to her, and all I’ll ever be.

A pawn. Something for her to use to her advantage.

How the hell am I supposed to uncover a spy? I have rarely been outside, for Andromeda’s sake!

She tightens her grip on my neck.

“Speak, Sabella.”

I nod, swallowing harshly. “Yes, mother. I understand.”

She relents, letting me go, her hand going right for her side. The crimson stain is larger now than it was before.

“Go to your room, and stay safe. There are rebels in this building. They should be dispelled soon enough, but until Raphael collectsyou, I need you to stay put.”

I nod, understanding dawning on me.

Is one of those rebels responsible for hurting mother?

“Go!” she barks, and I don’t have to be told twice. I pick up the pace, leaving the corridor and sprinting to my room. A band of guards runs past me, and I feel like a fish, swimming in the wrong direction.

But an order is an order, and I must obey my queen.

When I finally make it to my room, I shut the door and lock it. The banging gets louder and there are shouts outside my room. They echo and then there are sounds of guns.

I curl up in the corner of my room, amidst an array of pillows, the festering need for a drink almost overwhelming.

But I’ve got nothing here, unfortunately.

The sounds outside my door escalate into shots, shouts and heavy banging. I close my eyes, focusing on my breath, waiting for the moment my brother will come in and tell me it’s all been some false alarm.

We’ve had drills like this before, and he always comes to collect me. Why wouldn’t he come now?

Mother said to wait until he collects me, so it must be a drill right? It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve run realistic scenarios, but the explosions…

Something about their sudden sounding makes me feel uneasy…

The mole and the fighting outside can’t be related, surely…

There is a final shot and then there is silence.

I count to ten, then again, waiting for Raphael to unlock my door and burst in with his sly grin and tell me to get up off my ass.

The door clicks, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He is here, my brother…

Only when the door opens, I don’t see my brother’s kind dark eyes or his familiar smile.

Instead I see a bounty of blue arms and hands and dark eyes that pin me where I sit like a fly caught in a web.

It’s just Boomer.

“Get up,” he grunts, his tone harsher than it usually is.

I’ve known Boomer practically my entire life, though I don’t interact with him as much as my brothers, being as he is pivotal to their daily lives.

Father told me I’d be transitioning to his guardianship soon enough, but I hadn’t heard anything in awhile and didn’t want to push the matter.

As much as I wanted my family to see me as more than a spoiled princess, I also have to admit the anonymity can be quite the respite.

There is a freedom that comes from not having any expectations thrust upon you, and Boomer…

At least from the stories my brother’s have told, he is a bit of a hardass because he has quite high expectations for them.

Then again, they are much more suited for this throne than I am, so I suppose that’s just.

I blink, trying to process everything. Boomer doesn’t bark at me like my mother, or yell at me to get myself together. He only walks over to me slowly, his gaze solid.

“We need to move,” he says, his voice slightly calmer.

“Raphael is supposed to get me,” I say, unsure why it matters, but my heart says it does.

Details are everything.

“Raphael and your parents have been detained.” He says.

He kneels before me, all six arms on full display. Damn, it's a sight. Two on his knees, two on his hips, one reaching out, and one ready to strike. Classic Boomer, looking like he could hug you or throttle you in the same breath. Impressive and terrifying all at once.

“Detained?” I ask, not wanting him to elaborate, but also feeling a morbid curiosity as to who would be powerful enough to detain three celestials?

Certainly not the rebels. They’re just anarchists, Raphael says. They have no actual power or force.

“Get up,” his voice is softer now, and it makes me feel somewhat better.

My mother’s words echo in my brain, about the mole.

Is he the one responsible for this? The spy?

Part of me wants to admit to Boomer her declaration, but there is another part of me that knows I shouldn’t.

I don’t know who I can trust, really. Though I want to believe I can trust him.

Ky trusts him. Eros trusts him. Raphael trusts him.

I look around the room, away from him. I could stay here. I want to stay here, in my room, where it’s familiar, warm.

I want to curl up in my bed, and awaken to believe this was all a terrible nightmare.

Boomer sighs, his voice low and gruff. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, lass. Yer choice. But we need tae move quickly now.”

I glare back at me, at his condescending attitude.

“Well now I don’t want to go anywhere with you with an attitude like that,” I bite.

Boomer smirks, shaking his head.

“Remember, I gave ye a choice.” He says, his roguish accent thickening. With that, I am upended by all six powerful arms, thrown over his shoulder like I am nothing more than a sack of fucking potatoes.

I squeal in frustration, wriggling and writhing, but it is no use. A man with six arms is like a straightjacket.

“Put me down!” I snap, but he doesn’t listen.

He drags me out of my room, his six stupid arms working overtime. Two hands clasp my back like I'm some kind of ragdoll, another pair grip my thighs as if I might bolt, while the final set –- one on my waist and one way too close to my ass for comfort - make me want to squirm. It's infuriating how effortlessly he manhandles me, his blue limbs rippling with annoyingly impressive strength. Great, now I'm probably looking about as dignified as a drunken peacock.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

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About the Author – Ariel Dawn

It’s Always Darkest Before The Dawn

USA Today Bestselling Author Ariel Dawn is a real life mermaid and self-professed geek with a penchant for a good book and a strong cup of coffee (or tea!).

Ariel writes plot driven paranormal romance, monster romance, reverse harem, and urban fantasy featuring feisty heroines, sinfully delicious heroes, and neurodivergent besties.

As a fellow neurodivergent, when she isn't writing, she can be found cosplaying, attending conventions, or creating all sorts of artwork in her studio. She loves hanging out with family and friends as well as playing video games and board games with her retro gamer husband.

Connect with Ariel

www.ariel-dawn.com

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About the Author – Stella Nova

Where Light & Dark Collide

Stella Nova is a cosmic entity, a wife, mother, and mystical dreamer. Growing up near the ocean and forests in California, her thoughts have always drifted to otherworldly realms. She envisions herself inhabiting alternate existences, some enchanted, others on faraway constellations, her mind a kaleidoscope of magical tales, gallant heroes, and sassy heroines. You may find her savoring her preferred potion, her mind adrift in a sea of supernatural inspiration, encircled by her collection of enchanted chalices, wands, and her visions of dark and light realms and characters. She resides somewhere on the mystical western coast of the United States with her family and their cherished feline sidekick, Valentine, forever enchanted by her ethereal musings and cosmic quests.

Connect with Stella

https://stellanovacreations.com/