Page 43 of Alien Prince (Alien Abductions and Seductions #1)

Chapter Nine

Emily

The dining hall is a feast for the senses—lavish decorations, glowing chandeliers casting soft light over the table, and an array of dishes so colorful they almost look too beautiful to eat. Almost.

The first bite I take is exquisite. The flavors are rich and complex, with a slight sweetness that melts on my tongue. I steal another bite, grateful for something familiar—something good—amidst all the unfamiliarity.

But my luck doesn’t last.

The next dish is a textured nightmare. I chew slowly, trying to keep my face neutral, but the bitterness lingers long after I’ve swallowed. A polite sip of the iridescent liquid in my goblet doesn’t help. It’s cloyingly sweet, like melted candy.

I glance at the table, trying to read the expressions of the other diners, but their faces are masks of serenity. They eat with precision and grace, the way their manners dictate—silent, deliberate bites, the food placed carefully on the edge of their plates rather than the center, a custom that still baffles me. Every gesture, every sip, is a performance of elegance, as if breaking these unspoken rules would cause the whole palace to collapse.

And then there’s me. I fumble with utensils that look more like art than cutlery and do my best not to embarrass myself. I’ve been practicing their customs, mimicking the movements of the maids and advisors, but under the scrutiny of so many judgmental eyes, it feels like my every move is under a microscope.

“Careful with that one,” Kael murmurs, leaning slightly toward me. His voice is low, meant just for my ears. “It’s an acquired taste.”

I glance at the delicate, gelatinous cube on my plate, its surface shimmering faintly, and decide to trust him. “Noted,” I whisper back, nudging it to the side of my plate in what I hope is the correct fashion.

But the food isn’t the worst part.

“Such a bold choice,” a voice purrs from across the table. I glance up to see a woman with sleek silver hair and piercing violet eyes watching me. Her smile is sharp, predatory. “To bring an outsider to such an important gathering. I admire your courage, Your Highthos.”

Kael doesn’t respond, his expression unreadable, but the jab lands all the same.

Another noble, a man seated a few places down, adds, “It’s always fascinating to see how quickly the vessel’s choices adapt… or fail to adapt.”

The comment feels like a slap, but I keep my face calm, my hands gripping the edge of the tablecloth beneath the surface.

“It’s a delicate balance, isn’t it?” the woman continues, her gaze shifting back to me. “To find someone who can uphold our traditions without… diluting them.”

My chest tightens, but I force myself to smile, a thin, practiced thing I’ve learned to wield in moments like this. “It’s amazing how different traditions can be,” I say lightly. “On Earth, we don’t usually comment on someone’s learning curve at the dinner table. It’s considered impolite.”

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, and I feel a small, hollow victory in that, but the tension in the room thickens, the whispers growing louder and sharper.

The one time my shyness back on Earth would’ve been an asset…

Kael shifts beside me, his presence grounding in a way I hate to admit. He clears his throat, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Emily’s adjustment to Erythos has been commendable,” he says, his tone cool and authoritative. “Far more so than some of the guests at this table would be capable of in her place.”

The room falls silent, and I can feel the heat of his words settling over the gathering. My pulse races, torn between gratitude and embarrassment.

I glance at Kael, but his face is impassive, his gaze fixed on the room as if daring anyone to challenge him.

I pick up a small, translucent orb from my plate, hesitating before popping it into my mouth. A burst of sweetness floods my tongue, followed by something tart and floral. It’s… exquisite.

The next dish, however, is not.

I try a piece of what looks like a delicate, golden wafer, but the moment it touches my tongue, I gag. The taste is bitter and briny, like licking the inside of a fish tank. I struggle to swallow it without making a face, grabbing for my goblet to wash it down with a sip of the sparkling, pale-blue liquid that passes for wine here.

I glance at Kael out of the corner of my eye, but he seems unbothered, his expression unreadable as always. If he notices my reaction to the food, he doesn’t show it.

“Tell me, Lady Emily,” a syrupy voice interrupts my thoughts. “How do you find the cuisine of Erythos? Surely it must be quite different from what you’re used to.”

I look up to see a woman sitting across from me, her silver skin flawless and her violet eyes gleaming with thinly veiled amusement. Her lips are curved into a smile, but there’s nothing kind about it.

“It’s certainly… unique,” I say carefully, forcing a polite smile.

Her gaze flicks to Kael, then back to me. “You must find it difficult to adjust,” she continues. “After all, Earthlings are known for their simple tastes. I imagine some of these dishes must seem… overwhelming to you.”

The underlying insult is clear, and heat rises to my cheeks. “It’s an adjustment,” I reply evenly, setting my fork down. “But I’m learning to appreciate the complexity of your culture.”

Kael’s gaze flicks toward me briefly, his expression as unreadable as ever, but I think I see something in his eyes—a flicker of approval, maybe.

“Such an admirable attitude,” the woman says, her tone still dripping with condescension. “Though I do wonder how much one can truly appreciate when so much is… unfamiliar.”

Another woman down the table snickers, and I grip the edge of my plate to keep myself steady.

I glance at Kael, hoping he’ll step in, but he doesn’t move, his focus seemingly elsewhere. I remind myself that I’m here to prove I can belong—to show him, and everyone else, that I’m not the weak, out-of-place outsider they think I am.

“I suppose that’s the beauty of learning,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm and steady. “Every unfamiliar experience is an opportunity to grow.”

The woman’s smile falters slightly, and I take a small, quiet victory in that.

But as the dinner continues, the whispers and cutting remarks don’t stop. They’re quieter now, but I can still feel the weight of their judgment, their disdain. It hangs in the air like a cloud, smothering any chance of me enjoying the meal.

Even the most exquisite dishes—like the delicate, glowing fruit that tastes like honey and sunshine—don’t distract me from the tension.

The rest of the meal passes in strained silence, the nobles too busy dissecting Kael’s words in their minds to bother with me again. The food continues to be a mixed bag—one dish almost makes me gag, while another surprises me with its subtle, savory flavors.

But nothing is harder to swallow than the judgment I’ve faced tonight.

When the dinner finally ends, I’m too relieved to care about proper etiquette as I stand and follow Kael out of the hall.

“You handled yourself well,” he says quietly once we’re alone in the corridor.

I glance at him, trying to gauge whether that’s a genuine compliment or just a way to placate me. “Thanks,” I mutter. “Though I think I’ll need a manual to get through the next one.”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “You might at that.”

For the first time since the night began, I let out a small, shaky laugh.

While the dinner has ended, the night has not.

Music begins, soft and haunting, with a rhythm that feels like it’s alive, thrumming through the air and into my chest. I sit on the edge of the grand hall, watching as pairs of Erythosians glide across the floor, their movements fluid and hypnotic.

The dancers move with a grace I could never hope to match, their bodies swaying and spinning in perfect synchrony. There’s something mesmerizing about it, almost otherworldly, and I can’t help but be drawn in.

“Enjoying yourself?”

I startle at the deep voice beside me and turn to see Kael standing there, his expression unreadable as always.

“It’s beautiful,” I admit, gesturing to the dancers. “Like something out of a dream.”

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze flicking between me and the floor. “It’s a traditional dance,” he says, “a way of connecting with one’s partner.”

“Partner?” I echo, raising a brow. “Like… romantically?”

“Not always,” he replies, his tone carefully neutral, “but often.” Before I can ask anything else, he extends a hand toward me, his silver skin gleaming under the soft lights of the hall. “Come.”

I blink, staring at his outstretched hand. “You want me to… dance? With you?”

“Yes.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

My heart stutters, and I debate refusing, but the intensity in his violet eyes, the unspoken challenge in his expression, makes me reach out and take his hand before I can overthink it.

He leads me onto the floor, and the other dancers part slightly, making room for us. My pulse races as I glance around, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room.

“Relax,” Kael says softly, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, my voice shaky.

The music shifts, the tempo slowing, and Kael places a hand lightly on my waist, guiding me into position. His touch is warm and firm, and it sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cool air of the hall.

“Follow my lead,” he says, his tone steady but softer now.

I nod, swallowing hard, and let him guide me.

The first step is awkward, my movements stiff and hesitant, but Kael’s patience is surprising. He moves with a precision that feels effortless, his grip steady as he pulls me closer. I stumble slightly, but he catches me, his hand tightening on my waist.

“Focus,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against my ear.

I do, trying to match his movements, and soon, I find myself falling into the rhythm. The music flows around us, weaving a spell that seems to draw us closer with every step.

His body is warm against mine, his strength evident in the way he holds me, firm but not overbearing. The space between us grows smaller, and I’m acutely aware of every point of contact—the press of his hand on my back, the light touch of his fingers against mine.

It’s… intimate. Too intimate.

Especially because I can feel his hardness against me.

He might be an alien, but he’s merely a different kind of human.

He has a cock.

From the feel of it, a very hard and very long one.

I glance up at him, and my breath catches at the intensity in his gaze. His violet eyes seem to burn, their usual coldness replaced by something I can’t quite name.

The music slows further, the melody deepening, and Kael moves closer, his hand sliding just slightly lower, no longer on my back but cupping me ass. My heart pounds so loudly I’m certain he can hear it, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

This isn’t just a dance. It’s something else entirely.

And I’m getting turned on almost despite myself, pressing against him.

And then, just as the tension becomes unbearable, he stops and steps back, his hands falling away from me like I’ve burned him.

The sudden distance feels like a slap, and I stare at him, confused and breathless. “What—”

“Enough,” he says sharply, his tone colder than I’ve ever heard it. His expression is carefully blank, but his eyes betray something raw and conflicted.

He turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor, my chest heaving and my mind spinning.

I don’t know what just happened, but I do know one thing.

Whatever this is between us, it’s not something either of us can ignore.