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Calder clears his throat to start the ceremony.

“I’m on my second wedding, too,” he states, to a chorus of laughter from the crowd.

“You’ve been wed by the Aurelian Empire, but here, you’ll be wed the way it matters.

You might be queen of the aliens, but you’re a child of this forest, and this forest will bear witness.

Adriana Hart. You come a family that’s spent their lives protecting this forest, from a long line of Wardens.

Through war, you kept us whole. These trees.

..” He looks up the ancient trunk of the tree mother with reverence.

“They’ve stood tens of thousands of years, and as long as we have Virelians like you, they’ll stand tens of thousands more.

They’ve sheltered us. Protected us. Today, they bear witness to a union.

If there are any in attendance with objections—I suggest you climb up a tall tree, in another forest.”

More laughs, easy, from the humans in attendance.

Not from the Aurelians. They sit, straight-backed and serious. Pentaris was sheltered from the war. My people have a lightness to them, but the aliens are heavy, many scarred, some alone or with only one battle-brother left.

Calder proffers the pillow. The four simple bands are of wood harvested near our four seedlings. All of Doman’s haughty arrogance melts away as I slowly slide the ring on his finger, our skin grazing. His aura glows in my mind. He’s whole, in a way only I could make him.

Titus grins openly as I slide the ring onto his finger next.

The silence of the grove is interrupted by a hoot from a warden—Titus made fast friends with the young men.

Possessiveness floods through the Bond. It becomes hard to meet his stormy amethyst eyes when I’m overwhelmed by waves of ownership from the barbaric warrior.

Then Gallien, who peers down at the wooden band inquisitively, then up to me, a slight smile on his lips. He is the most neutral on the surface, but his aura pulses with love and adoration. Of the three of them, his aura is the most worshipful.

Doman, as leader, is the one who takes the final ring. He presses it onto my finger, up against the first ring he placed on my hand in the Arena of the Gods.

In the custom of Virelia, we speak the simple vows in unison, the same vows said for time immemorial.

“I vow to shade you in times of need, to water your roots, to grow towards the sun in unison.” The simple words we all grow up imagining when it’s our turn to say them.

The crowd erupts into cheers, and as one, the Aurelian soldiers stand, hands on their hearts, like silent statues honoring the three Emperors who died for them.

Doman, Titus and Gallien are the only men who have truly felt what it is to die.

They went onto the black sands and faced down the War-God.

They traded their lives for his, to end the onslaught that was decimating the Aurelian species.

Doman leans in, kissing me deep, his tongue sliding against mine, our hands intertwined.

I melt against his strength, surrendering to his dominance that flows through the Bond.

I feel more than hear Titus’ growl, and my cheeks flush red as his aura burns up with the Mating Rage.

Titus is ravenous, and his battle-brothers mirror his need.

Before they can cause a diplomatic incident, Doman’s scooped me up.

I yelp as he throws me over his shoulder, kicking at my dress so it won’t ride up as he leaps with all his strength, clasping onto the tree trunk with his other hand.

I bounce, looking down at the wedding party as Doman climbs easily, Titus and Gallien following underneath.

Most Virelians climb with ropes and harnesses, but the bravest lift their brides upward with no protection.

Bottles of champagne fizz and pop below, the band breaks into a jaunty tune, and the wardens hidden in the trees shrilly whistle their windpipes.

June stands, pulling Cal to the dancefloor against his protestations, and the last thing I see before we’re above the canopy is her winking up at me.

“Light as a leaf,” says Doman as he pulls me higher, jumping from the tree trunk onto a branch, then leaping higher, leaving me breathless.

His voice has the growly undercurrent, and Titus is following close behind, not looking at his handholds, his eyes fixed on me.

Higher and higher we go, until finally, he sets me down near the zenith of the tree, at the space where two huge branches big enough to fit a troop of wardens intersect.

Here, a wooden structure lies, a structure that precedes our recorded history.

Vines wraps around the wood, twisting and turning as they sense our arrival.

From the massive trunk, in nooks and crannies, grow another species of tree, the same trees whose silky cotton is used in pleasure dresses.

It’s forbidden to harvest here, though it could be sold for a fortune to the Aurelian Empire.

The entrance to the simple wooden hut is completely blocked by vines. He shifts me from over his shoulder to cradle me against his huge, powerful chest, and I wrap my arms around his tree trunk of a neck as he brings me closer. The vines, sensing our arrival, open for us.

I’ve heard of this place, whispers of it, but it’s a secret known only to those who have been wedded here. There’s a certain subtlety to it, knowing glances, but the secrets are never fully revealed.

Inside, I see that the walls are built of the tree itself, branches forming the walls, and vines are knotted together in a soft bed that covers most of the floor.

Doman sets me down, fighting back the Mating Rage, letting me stand before the oval window and look out.

The canopy has never look so beautiful, the sun slowly setting, casting its glow over the healthy trees of the forest. He stands at my side, Titus and Gallien behind me, and I shiver as I hear Titus’ heavy, growly breathing behind me.

His aura is pulsing with agonizing need, and I know it’s taking every ounce of his restraint not to grab me and press me down against the bed.

Doman brings my hand up, the light catching the diamond of the first ring, but he looks at the muted circle of wood.

“My wife. I like that even better than calling you my queen,” he says, and I look up at him, just taking him in, the alien prince who became Emperor through his bravery.

He exudes nobility. Even without a crown, you would know he is king.

“That is where our four trees grow,” I say, pointing out to the forest, where I know the grove we planted our seeds is.

He reaches up to my chin, slowly stroking my sensitive skin, and kisses me. His cock is surging up against his robe. He’s imagining his seed growing inside me, and that’s all he aches for, for me to fully surrender to him, and allow the Bond to work its magic.

My heart quickens. “I’m ready,” I say, because here, in the forests of my youth, in my true home, the cradle of the trees gives me strength.

The universe is filled with terrors. They weighed on me, put dark threads in my mind, prevented me from fully embracing the future and the thought of bringing a child into this world.

The Bond thrums , a subtle note, a pang of need that magnifies my desire for the triad.

Doman’s huge hands slide down to my legs, and he slowly pulls my dress up, both of us enjoying the build-up.

I moan as he toys with me, running thick fingers up my inner thighs, grazing my wetness, then bringing his finger to his mouth and tasting my arousal.

His eyes roll back, and he lifts me, throwing me down against the bed.

The vines accept me, pressing down, cushioning me.

Before I can tell him not to, he’s ripped the dress from me.

June will never let me hear the end of it, but all thoughts of embarrassment disappear as the alien king presses his mouth between my legs, lapping furiously, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in desperately, taking in the scent of my pure arousal.

It drives him wilder with every lave of his tongue that sends pure, torturous pleasure through me, because I feel so empty, aching for him to claim me.

Titus and Gallien open their robes as one, their movements mirrored, and I look from one to the other as I paw desperately at Doman’s golden mane, gripping his thick hair as his tongue forms a point and laps at my clit.

Gallien’s and Titus’ cocks are dripping, thick strands of pearly pre-cum falling to the floor, and I take in every inch of their muscled perfection, Titus’ slabs of beefy muscle covered by his curly black hair, Gallien’s nearly hairless body, lean and chiseled like a swimmer.

The Bond has enhanced my senses, and they are so crystal clear, the room fading away as only the three Aurelians exist to me.

The bed gently strokes me, the vines vibrating ever so slightly behind me, tiny hairs on them stroking me like a thousand gentle fingers.

Doman stands, throwing his robe off with a growl, and my legs open instinctively for the beast as he slaps his huge, throbbing cock against me.

It goes up to my belly button, his huge balls resting on my wet slit, and he rolls his hips back until the massive cockhead is pressed against my sopping wetness.

He’s too fucking big. Every time he fucks me, I can’t imagine how he fits that weapon inside me, and the pressure of him stretching me is the most agonizing pain and pleasure mixed together.