Page 6 of Alien Prince (Alien Abductions and Seductions #1)
Chapter Six
Gemma
The first time I’d heard about the closets, I was six. My mother and father were arguing over something—or someone, really. A young blonde girl, who at the time I thought was an adult, but came to learn later wasn’t. She was barely sixteen. My father had argued that keeping her in our house, in our presence, was dangerous. My mother insisted that not a day goes by where we aren’t in danger, doing the work we do.
I remembered the look on the girl’s face as they argued back and forth. The cold, vacant stare of those gray, dull eyes. Like she’d been defeated, beaten down. Used. Like there was no fight in her anymore, if there had been any to begin with. No life.
She was just… a shell. A pretty, young, blonde shell.
My mother suggested the girl could be useful to us, even though she was sitting right there in the same room, but stars away in her mind.
“She can help us understand the process, Vitus,” my mother said. “A discarded skin who knows the inner workings of the closets. You know how rare that is.”
I watched my father stand there, his gaze flicking back and forth between my mother and the girl, who I came to know later as Cassie, weighing his options.
Ultimately, knowledge overruled the danger in his eyes, and it’s hard to think of what my life would be like if he had turned her away.
Because of her, we’d learned valuable knowledge about the royals and about the closets. About what being a skin was like. Between Cassie and my mother, we knew more about the monsters that possessed their slaves, and with Boomer on the inside, we had a strong foundation to build the perfect soldier, the perfect slave to infiltrate the royals’ walls.
I had many conversations with Cassie about what to expect when I would inevitably be taken over by one of those perverted monsters. I remember the tears in her eyes as she told me the things they made her do. How her mind and her body were two entirely different entities, at war with one another, controlled by the princess of the people. Sabella.
“You’ll never see them coming,” Cassie said. “But you’ll know. You’ll feel their presence, hovering like a shadow. And then your voice will be diminished.”
She had no control of her limbs, but yet she felt everything. Every touch, every sensation. She could hear herself, but she could also hear Sabella in her head. She’d told me it was best not to resist when the time came. It was a smoother process if you gave in and didn’t put up a fight.
Which I knew would be the hardest part. I have been raised to fight, so submitting to anyone isn’t in my nature.
But if I was going to do this mission right, I needed to check my own desires and be as convincing as possible. I needed whatever monster I ended up with to feel comfortable with me. I needed to be a skin they’d use more than once.
The royals need our bodies so they can operate undetected and experience the world they rule by touching and seeing it. To pass as one of us, so they can violate us, manipulate us.
Without our bodies, they are just cosmic ghosts, parasites in need of a host.
Even my mother, who had worked in the palace for ages before finding my father, had never seen one of the royals outside of the skins they wore.
The first thought in my brain as I watch the mass of navy blue, black and plum smoke make its way towards me, is that this— seeing them—was most definitely not covered in my training.
But I know. I know as the hazy, smokey amoeba glides toward me, a magnificent cosmic cloud of swirling gasses with speckles of stars and tiny galaxies gracefully dancing within it; as the colors shift from deep purples to bright blues and pinks, creating a mesmerizing scene that carries my eyes to the literal contained universe, that they are not aliens in the sense we know them to be. They are much, much more.
The birth of a new galaxy unfolds before me, sparking like a petulant flame. Brilliant pulses of light dash across the space within, illuminating the dark surrounding it as it creates, as it sinks its stellar claws into the unknown. They are creatures who hold immense power, grasping the glimmer of life in their nebulous grip. Quite impressive, considering I can’t see any actual energy-shaped hands…
I know when I gaze upon their grandeur, that this… this being of infinite possibility is what they are. Chaos and order.
The royals are not just aliens. They are stardust. They are life. The spark of greater magic, the boom that can give in the same breath it takes.
It’s shockingly as beautiful as it is dangerous.
The shape of the galaxy before me—because that’s the only way it can be described— forms the silhouette of a man; tall, towering over me, with broad, rounded shoulders that taper down to a narrow waist. His form is composed of a swirling mass of smoke and stardust, each tendril intertwining with the next to create the illusion of a solid figure. The tendrils of smoke that compose his form gently swirl and shift, as if he is made completely of mist, and they fade into nothingness at the wrists and knees.
But it is the eyes that chill my bones. They are truly mesmerizing, with a bright aqua glow radiating from their center; the intense, otherworldly light shining like two sapphire orbs, the irises themselves a deep, electric blue with a subtle hint of green that dances in the light. The pupils are wide and dilated, giving an almost hypnotic quality that is both alluring and unsettling.
Looking into this being’s eyes is like peering into the depths of the cosmic ocean, with all its mystery and danger lurking just beneath the surface.
Those eyes seemed to pierce into me as if they could see everything. As if they would see through me, beyond my skin, past my muscles and bones, and somehow uncover the raw truth. That somehow, I’d fucked this up before I even had the chance to do anything.
The mass of stardust moves, drawing nearer and nearer until it appears as if it will swallow me whole.
A chill runs down my spine and spreads over my skin, making my hair stand on end. I am transfixed, unable to tear my gaze away from the deep, burning pools that stare back at me.
In those haunting eyes I see the vastness of the universe, the mysteries it holds, and the beauty of creation. Ages, eons, even of civilizations before me. But as my eyes delve deeper, I sense something more primal and urgent, an insatiable desire to experience, to feel, to know the full spectrum of existence as we do.
It is a hunger that can never be fully satisfied, a thirst that can never be quenched.
And as I stand there, transfixed by those fiery orbs, I let myself drawn in that primal desire, that insatiable yearning to feel.
My heart races, every beat echoing in my ears like thunder. A sudden heat washes over me, starting from the tips of my toes and spreading like wildfire through my body. Warmth pools between my thighs, and I can’t help but gasp as a small moan escapes my lips.
I have never seen anything quite so beautiful, so magnificent, nor have I ever felt so… awestruck.
So absolutley fucking deadly.
And just as the hypnotic trance wears off, I feel the alien's energy pulsating from its body. Suddenly, it slips straight into me, possessing me without warning.
The energy flows into me like a raging river, filling every fiber of my being with renewed purpose. Their purpose.
I am no longer in control of my body; the celestial being inside of me now the master of my consciousness.
The transition is painless, but the chill of the energy is overwhelming. I stumble, grasping for support against the foot of my cot.
My psyche is crowded, and it is an instant battle of the two distinct entities within me.
The voice in my head is not my own.
You are safe. Everything will be alright.
The voice is unmistakably male, a powerful baritone that resonates like the rolling tide of the ocean. Its deep, sonorous quality is reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm, with each syllable reverberating through my mind. Comforting as a gentle summer shower, with a rich, velvety quality that commands attention and instills a sense of calm.
“Alright?” I mutter under my breath, my voice sounding weak and shaky and not like me at all.
My vision begins to blur. I can’t quite remember where I am or why I am here…
There is only the heaviness of force, like I am banging against a stone wall, hoping to break one rock with my bare fist.
As I try to focus, the hum of the mechanics of my new bionic parts grow louder and more intense, thundering away in my head until it is almost deafening. I can’t tell what is real and what is just a figment of my imagination.
The transition is a vital aspect of the process, and it requires an open mind, Gemini. It will be much easier if you stop fighting me.
There’s that voice again— his voice.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, inhaling deeply, digging my nails into his smooth, silky voice, pushing against that stone because even in uncertainty, when I don’t know myself, I know the fight.
The fight is who I am.
A hundred scents accost me, much more prominent to my senses in this temperature controlled room.
The potent scent of marinated lamb wafts from the kitchens three stories below and is so strong that it masks even the musky scent of the skins in the closet with me and the lingering sterilized chemical lavender from the cleaning products that have been used.
My limbs are heavy, but I am capable of moving them of my own accord. The realization makes me acutely aware that somehow, I still have some form of control over my own body.
Which is conflicting, and I have to be careful of my own thoughts. I needed to let go. I need to not resist so much. But instincts like mine are hard to diminish, especially when I’ve been training all my life. If there’s one thing I’ve been in life, it’s obstinate. I do not succumb to anyone’s orders but my father’s, and that is only because he is the head of the resistance, and going against his order would mean certain death.
“I…I’m trying,” I say as my heartbeat picks up.
You do not trust me. Take a deep breath and relax.
His silky voice in my head stirs the fire in my stomach, in my blood, and I have the strangest overwhelming feeling of desiring to obey .
Of course, I don’t trust him. If only he knew the level of distrust I hold for him and his… kind.
I shut down the spark of thought before it can catch in my psyche, so I don’t blow my cover on the first go. This is a long game, not a scrimmage.
My hands grip the steel frame, feeling the cool, sleek metal against my heated palm. A sheen of sweat starts to form, my accelerating heart rate.
I know if I don’t assimilate I’ll burn up.
I’ll die rejecting the alien inside of me, and all the work, all the years of training will have been in vain.
As I groggily open my eyes, the world around me slowly comes into focus. The sharpness fluctuates as if my vision is struggling to keep up with the environment. The colors and shapes meld together in an almost surreal way, disorienting me as if reality is playing a cruel joke.
“How can I trust you? I don’t even know you, you—” My breath is heavy and it’s harder to speak than I thought it would be.
My apologies. I am Kyron Umbra, Prince of Astronomica. You have been chosen to serve as a member of my closet. I assure you that I will take care of this vessel during your service.
His words drip with cold calculation, as if he is speaking about a mere thing and not a person. But what else can I expect from a monster like him? Of course, I have no intention of letting on that I know exactly what he is and what he is up to. I have to play dumb, like I am some kind of hapless girl who's gotten into a terrible accident and woke up to an alien being made of stardust trying to possess her. After all, there's nothing like a little deception to keep a monster in check, right?
But my attitude never knows when to keep its mouth shut. It just has to pipe up at the most inopportune moment.
“Oh, I thought you were just a figment of my painkiller-induced imagination,” I sneer, rolling my eyes. “All glitter and sparkles and whatnot.”
A rumble in my bones lets me know he definitely heard me. I push off the pillar and Kyron decides to play puppet master with my limbs instead. It's like we're in a twisted game of tug-of-war for control. My limbs are in cahoots with Kyron, touching the pillar but feeling numb at the same time. I try to focus and regain control, but it's a losing battle as my arm shakes, betraying my efforts to overthrow Kyron's puppeteering
Why can’t I just let go?
The thought forms, and I silently curse myself.
You… saw me? he stammers in disbelief.
“I don’t know what I saw.” I try to recover, trying to appear vulnerable.
“The last thing I remember is being in the hospital, and—”
“Ky, are you in here?” A sweet female voice sounds and I freeze in place.
Tell her yes, his directive is solid, reminding me of my dad's mission briefings.
Something about the way he tells me to speak makes me want to question him. Isn't this part of the process? If he can control my arm, shouldn't he be able to use my mouth—voice too?
I don’t have much time to think about it, so I reluctantly comply with his request.I relent, but only because time is running out, and I am determined to accomplish my mission.
“Yeah, I’m just heading out,” I say, my voice betraying none of the internal conflict raging within me.
I'll give you a detailed explanation later. For now, your trust in me is imperative. We must act in perfect harmony.
“I’d love to give you control, Ronny, but I don’t know how,” I snap, voice barely audible. It’s not a lie. I don’t know how to give him control, even though I know I need to for this to work.
My chest tightens as I feel his fear like a hot coal.
The person coming could put us both in danger. His voice is even, but I know whoever it is, he fears them.
Why does he care about me?
I hate that the thought escapes me, but he answers me. Because meus es tu, Mia.
The words are fractured in my brain, but as my tutors have taught me Latin, I recognized them immediately: You are mine, Mia.
No one has ever called me Mia, like some frilly tea-drinking socialite, and sinceI’ve just met this glittering asshole made of space dust, I’m not particularly in the mood for pet names.
Maybe take me out for dinner first, asshole.
Shit! I did it again!
My body is propelled by a force that doesn’t belong to me, my legs walking of their own accord, my pace quickening. I want to protest, want to fight, but the fear flooding me—no, Kyron’s fear—is enough to keep me on the straight and narrow for now.
“Where are you taking me?” I whisper aloud. My feet seem to know where we are going, even if I don’t. As soon as we reach the end of a dark corridor, I see light.
The place before me looks like a dream, as if illuminated by a thousand stars. The walls are a pristine white that seem to shine with their own light, while the marble floor sparkles like a pearl. The hallway has golden statues and vases, filled with the most colorful flowers and vines I've ever seen. It feels like I've been taken to a world beyond my wildest dreams, where even the most ordinary things are transformed into amazing works of art.
This is what I imagined a palace to look like, and it’s a stark contrast from the utilitarian barracks these assholes call closets.
Away from here, is all he says, and I have to resist the urge to press. Though it’s difficult to let this creature take the steering wheel, I know it’s what I need to do.
Perhaps he’ll lead me to something useful, and that’s what I hold onto as we continue on to wherever he’s taking us.