Page 44 of Claimed By the Alien Prince

ZEVRAN

I carry Carys through the halls, her weight surprisingly light in my arms. The petals rain down like a cascade of stars, vibrant colors contrasting against the warm amber light of the palace. Cheers erupt around us, echoing off the walls, voices rising in celebration.

“Zevran! Carys!” They chant our names, and each call sends a ripple of pride through me.

My people have embraced her—not just as a guest or an outsider, but as one of their own.

It hasn’t been easy to bridge that divide; doubt lingered long after our bond was revealed. Yet here we are, basking in their joy.

As we reach the private wing of the palace, I push open the door to our chambers and step inside. The air feels charged with intimacy. I lay her gently on the bed, still wrapped in the delicate silk from our ceremony. The fabric shimmers under the soft light, accentuating every curve.

“Your father—” she starts.

“—will never be me.” I cut her off before doubt can settle between us like a shadow.

Carys studies my face; I see the questions swirling in her eyes.

She knows about my father—the man who ruled with an iron fist and bred fear among his people.

Queen Sirellae had shared those stories with her during late-night discussions when they found solace in each other's company while I dealt with court affairs.

Whispers linger that she may have even killed him to seize power for herself.

But that’s not me. I refuse to follow his path, driven by cruelty and ambition without regard for those he governed. My gaze drifts to Carys’s collarbone, where soft skin meets delicate lines of marking—a reminder of who she is and what we share now.

I lean down and kiss her collarbone gently, savoring the taste of her warmth against my lips. “I’ll worship the ground you walk on,” I whisper against her skin.

She exhales softly, tension easing from her body as my words hang between us like a promise made tangible. In this moment—just us—I feel everything shift again, reshaping not just our lives but perhaps all of Verus itself. Together we will forge a new path, away from shadows and into light.

My hands slide up the silk clinging to her thighs, the textured ridges of my fingertips catching on the fabric.

She arches into my touch, breath hitching as I bunch the gown at her waist. Her scent hits me first—earth and salt and something sharply alive, cutting through the floral oils still slick on her skin from the ceremony.

“Should’ve made you wear less cloth at the altar.” I press my mouth to the damp lace between her legs, biting gently through the barrier.

Her hips jerk. “You said worry about tradition now, strip me lat— fuck ?—”

The lace rips clean under my claws.

“Tradition’s over.”

Her laughter dies as my tongue finds her. She tastes like lightning—like the first storm after drought. My grip tightens on her hips as her fingers twist in my hair, yanking hard enough to sting. “You tear another pair of my underwear and I’ll charge it to the royal treasury,” she pants.

I grin against her. “Add it to the list.”

Her thighs clamp around my ears as she comes with a broken shout, nails scoring my scalp. I don’t let up until she kicks weakly at my shoulder. “Zevran— wait —I need?—”

“Say it.” I rise, wiping my mouth. Oh, that stare—she hates how much she loves this.

She grabs the sash of my ceremonial robe, jerking me close. “I need your cock,” she hisses. Savage little liar. She always goes polite when she’s desperate.

“Oh really?”

Her teeth sink into my lower lip. “Don’t make me murder a king on his wedding night.”

I shove her flat, pinning her wrists. Her pulse thrums against my thumbs. “Never thought I’d enjoy being threatened in bed.”

“Bet your exes were too busy swooning to?—”

I sink into her with one brutal thrust. Her back bows, cursed words dissolving into a gasp. “Careful, my Queen.” I nip her earlobe, rolling my hips slow. “Jealousy’s a terrible color on you.”

She rakes her nails down my spine. “Faster. Or I’ll find someone who?—”

I slam her knees to her chest, choking her taunt with a groan. The bed’s woven canopy rattles as we fuck—a savage counterpoint to the gentle chimes drifting through the open balcony. She comes twice more before I let myself spill, her teeth buried in my shoulder to muffle the sound.

Collapsing sideways, I drag her onto my chest. Her fingers trace the fresh bite mark. “Petty,” I mutter.

She kisses the broken skin. “You started it with the lacy panties.”

My hand drifts lower. “Another round?”

Her laughter trembles. “Give… me… five minutes…”

“Weak.”

Her foot connects with my shin. “Says the man whimpering my name like a starved?—”

I flip her onto her stomach before she finishes, muffling her yelp with the pillows.

She arches beneath me, sweat-slick back pressing against my chest, the wildflower scent of her hair cutting through musk and salt.

My cock slides into her with a groan—hers or mine, doesn’t matter—the slick heat of her still swollen from my last release.

Gods, she takes me like she was carved to do it.

“Again?” Her breathless laugh hitches as I bottom out. “Ruin a girl’s honeymoon with stamina , why don’t you?—”

“Honeymoon’s over when I say.” I drag out slow, clutching her hip with one hand while the other fists in those untamed curls. The textured ridges of my fingertips catch against her scalp, her shiver rippling against me. “You’d kick me out if I stopped now. Admit it.”

She twists to glare over her shoulder. “Try it and report back from the royal infirmary.”

My laugh comes out a growl as I snap my hips. The slap of skin echoes off the quartz walls. Her gasp cracks into a moan. “Less witty. More begging. ”

“Fuck y?—”

I shift angles, thrusting deep where I know she’ll unravel. Her body clamps down, nails raking the moss-woven sheets. She chokes on her own insult.

“There we go.” The purr in my voice would piss her off if she weren’t shaking apart. My free hand skims her thigh, coaxing it higher. “Stretch for me. Wider.”

“Asshole,” she pants but obeys, presenting herself with a roll of her hips that almost breaks my control.

Her skin glows under the trembling bioluminescent vines above our bed—amber and gold and perfect fury.

I grip her waist and pull her roughly down the length of my cock.

She kicks wildly. Her outraged squeak thrums straight to my cock.

“You’re kinky when you’re in charge.” Her taunt loses venom when I pin her wrists behind her back and drive into her ruthlessly. “H-harder?—!”

“Wasn’t this the woman who called Jalshagar ‘space astrology bullshit’?” Each word punctuated by a thrust that steals her breath. She whimpers, struggling against my grip. Liar. Her thighs quiver, begging me closer. “Look at y?—”

Her teeth snag the pillow. “Sh-Shut u?—”

A savage tilt of hips silences her. Her moan crests higher, louder—the sound that could end wars or start them. My markings blaze electric against my skin. My muscles burn. Still she bucks backward, greedy. Always greedy.

“Deeper,” she hisses. “Want you—nngh— marked into me?—”

The crude demand snaps my last thread. I lean down, biting her shoulder as I fuck her past reason.

Her scream breaks on a sob, body clamping like a vice.

Fuck. Fuck. My release tears through me.

She collapses first, limp and trembling.

I follow, my forehead pressed between her heaving shoulder blades.

“We'll be presenting an heir to the kingdom next season…” Coughing a laugh into her sweat-damp spine. Her fingers twitch in my slackened grip. “If we keep this up.”

She twists, all wildfire despite her wrecked state. Her bare foot slams my shin. “I’ll ghostwrite your womb if you smuggle a fetus into?—”

My snort cuts her off. She grins smug and ragged, turning in my arms until our noses brush. The bond between us thrums like plucked crystal. Her thumb traces my jaw.

“You’re mine,” she whispers, raw in a way that makes my chest ache.

I kiss her throat and mean it. “And you are everything.”

The vow hangs in the thick air. Then her stomach growls.

She shrugs. “Priorities, your majesty. Feed your everything before she chews your ornamental drapes.”