Page 40 of Alien Prince’s Fake Bride (The Tentacle Throne #1)

- Umbra -

With effortless power, Mareliux lifts me. His hands grip my thighs as he pulls me close. I wrap my legs around his waist, arms around his neck, trusting him completely. Strong tendrils curl around my upper body, holding me firmly and making me feel totally safe.

Slowly, tenderly, he lowers me onto his cock, the flared tip stretching me with a delicious burn.

The ridges drag against my inner walls. Each node sends jolts of pleasure that make me cry out.

The water thunders over us, amplifying every sensation as he fills me completely, his exotic shape molding to me in ways that take all my attention.

The tips of his tendrils stroke my breasts, sending delighted little tingles shooting downwards.

“The terror’s gone,” I gasp, rolling my hips to meet his controlled thrusts. His eyes are locked on mine, tender and adoring, even as desire consumes us. “It’s just you now. Fill me.”

The memory of the terrible jungle dissolves with every movement, replaced by waves of pleasure cresting higher. I shatter around him, and my release pulls him over the edge. His roar echoes through the chamber as the water pours on, sealing us in this moment where fear has no hold.

- - -

It takes us a couple of days to get to Khav.

Mareliux remotely directs a lot of battles with his generals, and I barely see him.

I spend my time exploring the ship, chatting with the extraction squad, learning Khavgrese from Vera, and practicing my use of Syntrix.

It’s frustratingly difficult to control it.

It’s so overpowered, like having a huge sledgehammer coated in soap and then trying to use it to sew a glass button onto a silk shirt.

It’s just far too much and too hard to control fully. But I am making progress.

The Gladiux slows down when we get close to Khav. Sigise and the squad board their gunship and go ahead of us, so that they will be in place before we get there. That way, they can prepare the ground and nobody will suspect that they have anything to do with us.

Then one morning the planet Khav is hanging outside the viewscreen in the control room. Many spaceships are circling us and traveling to and fro in this solar system.

“Busy planet,” I comment.

“It’s the center of a major empire,” Caret’ax says. “They control thousands of planets. What happens here influences the whole galaxy.”

“For the better?” I ask.

“Depends on who you ask,” the caveman says after thinking about it.

“And over the years I have asked many citizens what they think of the Empire. On practically all the planets I’ve been, the people say they’re grateful for the Empire’s presence.

It provides safety and structure, but doesn’t interfere much with local politics.

Except for the slavery issue, which they oppose everywhere. ”

Mareliux comes into the control room, looking tired. “Ah, here we are. Good. We just won a battle in the Derebi system, throwing back a force of Vyrpy. It will be nice to bring the people good news when we arrive. And of course the battle on Grefve was decisively won in thirty minutes.”

“Are you winning all the battles?” I ask.

“There are many battles at the same time,” he says as he takes his place in the prince’s seat. “We lose most of them, or we have to withdraw. That’s the state with the emperor we have now. Huh. That’s a strange ship.” He points at the viewscreen.

It’s a spaceship, and to my eyes it’s not that weird. It’s angular and spiky, like the gunships. “What about it?”

“It’s old and of alien design. And it’s in a peculiar orbit, away from all the other traffic. As if it’s waiting for something that it expects to take a long time. What is the name… ah, the Merxast . Never heard of it. Oh, here is our honor escort.”

A tight formation of silvery starships pass in front of us in the shape of a diamond. There has to be thirty of them, and they’re not small. “Nice. They’re welcoming you home.”

“I’ve never had a homecoming like this before,” Mareliux says. “This is mostly for you. ”

For the fake princess, I ponder. What will they do to me if they find out?

Mareliux glances over at me. “Colonel Grast’s squad is ready, by the way. They can get you out very quickly.”

“We practiced some of the things they’ve planned,” I tell him. “Mostly me just going wherever they think I should go.”

“Mhm,” Mareliux says, absent-mindedly. “That ship will dock with us and deliver certain items.” He points to a big, boxy ship that comes towards us through space. “Caret’ax, will you receive them? Use the robots if there are big items.”

“Yes, sir,” the bodyguard says and leaves the control room.

“What’s the plan now?” I ask, feeling nervous about this whole thing.

“We will land in a gunship. Then we have an audience with the Emperor. There’s a small reception for us at the palace after that.

All the slikes on Khav will be there, trying to feel you out.

They will flatter you and set traps for you.

You can mostly rely on appearing to be an uninformed rube from a backwater planet.

That’s when you’ll earn a space age for Earth.

Oh, the first squadron of warships has reached your solar system.

They’re patrolling it now.” His tone is absent and cold.

“How long do we stay here?” I ask.

“Not long. A few days, or it will seem suspicious. Then there will be some kind of war crisis only I can deal with, and we can leave. That part will not be hard. There are always crises.” He stares into the air for a while.

"The court is tricky, Umbra. People will smile but try to trip you up, ensnare you in your own words.

They want to find your weak spots. When they talk fancy, just say simple, honest things, even if it sounds like you don't know much.

If they give you anything — drinks, gifts, compliments, say thanks but don't promise anything. Don’t touch the drinks, though.

Look at their faces, not just what they say.

A quick look, a tight mouth — that tells you more.

Stay close to me. A look, a touch, shows they can't mess with you.

Most of all, listen more than you talk. If you wait, they'll show what they really want. "

“Sounds like high school,” I mutter. “And I did survive that. Not unscathed, but in one piece.”

“What?” Mareliux is staring at the screen, where more precise formations are passing by.

“ Umbra’s making a reference to her experience in school during her teenage years,” Bellatriz explains. “ She’s implying that the Imperial court can’t be worse than that.”

“That may be true,” Mareliux says as he gets up and straightens his sword belt. “But I would guess that fewer murders are carried out in her school than at the Court. Let’s see what they have sent us.”

The transport has delivered several boxes with clothing, all so accurately made they fit me perfectly.

“This is luxurious,” I comment, holding up a pantsuit made from hundreds of circular patches of fabric, each a subtly different shade of green, sewn together in an artful way that makes them look like waves on an ocean. “It must be hyper expensive.”

“A princess never asks about price,” Mareliux says absent-mindedly as he picks out a new pair of pants for himself, one that looks just like his current one but is less stained by alien worlds and battles. “She just says ‘thank you’ and looks wonderful.”

Several shimmering garments are presented to me by the serving robots, now repurposed as dressing room attendants.

The outfits are made of fabrics I’ve never seen before — some ripple like liquid moonlight, others hold stiff, geometric shapes.

One is covered in millions of tiny, subtly blinking lights, another feels and looks like fine silk against my fingertips, being so sheer it would be absolutely scandalous to wear it without leggings and a top underneath.

I run my hand over a gown the color of a deep ocean sunset, the material flowing and soft.

It has delicate silver embroidery that reminds me of the golden veins in Mareliux’s skin.

It feels right. It’s elegant without being fussy, and the color makes me feel a little less like I’m trying too hard to look like a Khavgren woman.

“How is this one?” I hold it up.

“Good,” Mareliux says, barely looking at it. “It should be somewhat formal.”

“It would be nice to know what is expected at the Imperial court.” I look through the selection of shoes and boots in the shipment.

They all have high heels, and I sense Sigise’s hand in it all, wanting me to look taller so the contrast between my eight-feet-tall fake husband and me won’t be too striking.

Mareliux just grunts.

I pick out a pair of black shoes that echo the boots I’m still wearing while still being formal, clearly also selected by Sigise. They have a subtle military cut to them.

There’s a bundle of fine ribbons and scarves that seem to be meant as accessories. I pick some of them and experiment with using them in my hair.

“Bellatriz, I’ll ask you instead since our prince seems to be busy,” I say tersely. “Is this appropriate attire for me seeing the Emperor under these circumstances?”

“ That dress and those shoes are perfectly appropriate,” the sword AI says. “ Demure, elegant, and yet obviously extremely fine. The Khavgrens will be very interested in your hair, which is an alien feature. I would recommend tying something around it for emphasis.”

I go to my cabin, stand under the small, splashing waterfall that is the Khavgren version of a shower, and put on my new outfit. When I return to the control room, Mareliux looks much the same as ever, and Caret’ax doesn’t seem to have left the room.

“Do I get a weapon?” I ask. “A small gun, maybe? You’re both carrying swords.”

“Everyone will have to leave their weapons behind when we see the Emperor,” Mareliux says. “Married women who are not in uniform are not expected to carry weapons. They are expected to trust their husbands to keep them safe. I will carry Bellatriz, because the Emperor likes her.”

“A small knife,” I suggest. “Something I can hide under the clothes. Just so I have something. It would make me feel safer.”

“I wonder what gave you the impression that the Imperial court in Khav is full of people who will murder you with knives,” Mareliux says, not looking at me.

“It has happened, I’m not denying that. In centuries past, the dagger was a popular assassination weapon.

But any danger to you will be much more subtle.

But just as deadly. A princess being armed will open you to difficult questions, if it were revealed. ”

“I’m a soldier,” I remind him. “I’m used to being armed. That is a good enough answer to those questions, I think.”

“We must avoid any risk of exposing you to suspicion that our marriage isn’t real,” the prince says with finality. “No weapons.”

His tone is dismissive, and it prickles me. Trust me . Famous last words, probably.

I cross my arms over the chosen gown. The soft fabric suddenly feels like a flimsy shield.

"So, I just stand there and look… loved?" The word feels weird on my tongue, a ridiculous concept given the icy atmosphere between us right now.

He finally turns his cool gaze to me. "You observe, you listen, you react appropriately.

You are the adoring spouse, impressed by my brilliance, secure in my protection.

Small, admiring glances. A gentle touch on my arm.

Perhaps a demure inclination of your head when I speak.

Think a well-trained pet, devoted and slightly awestruck. "

My jaw tightens. He really knows how to charm a girl. "Right. Got it. Adoring rube. Devoted pet. Anything else I should practice? Fetching your slippers? Barking on command?" I glance at Caret’ax for support, but he’s very carefully staring at nothing in particular.

“ Umbra is making a reference to feeling like your housepet,” Bellatriz explains.

Mareliux’s features remain impassive. "Just try to appear as though you don't want to strangle me every time I speak.

That would be a significant improvement.

" He turns back to the viewscreen, where the honor escort is still showing off their formations.

The silence that stretches between us is thick with the weight of this charade we're about to play.

It’s fine. I’ll just focus on Earth’s future fleet of spaceships, taking us from barely space-faring to a fully fledged member of galactic society. I’ll do the best job I can getting them.

“That’s it,” the prince says as the honor escort splits in half right in front of the Gladiux and sets up a new, glittering formation around the ship. “We’re ready to land on Khav.”