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His battle-brothers stare out at me, and I am wracked with emotion, my stomach roiling, the scream erupting from my lungs.

All I can think of is his enormous bulk, all his muscle and strength, his gleaming blue eyes melting as he’s turned to ash, the most beautiful, powerful creature in this entire universe destroyed by his own hubris.

I had thought I would feel fear, or triumph, but instead, all I have is this deep, dull sensation of loss, that the brutal warlord was cut down, taken from the world.

Since I felt that vision and knew there was some dark force linking us, the thought had tormented my every moment, but there is no relief now that he is gone, only this emptiness that spans out eternally, an emptiness that makes my legs buckle, when I see the five marble fingers on the edge.

With a grunt, he pulls himself up, a sweat-soaked behemoth, rage in his eyes, those burning blue orbs staring straight through me as he strides to me, pushes the veil aside, and pulls me into his massive body.

His armor is cold against me, but his face is emanating heat as his lips descend against mine, hungry, conquering.

His sweat is in my nostrils, the masculine stink of the alien prince, and it is so right that my head swims.

My resistance, my hatred, my defiance against the brutal alien warlord melts under his kiss, replaced by something else, something that terrifies me, this insistent, aching, feverish need that rushes through my body.

It’s uncontrollable, the core of my being reacting to him as his tongue swirls against mine, as he runs his hand through my hair, pressing me against his kiss, then he breaks it off, and I am gasping, and I see the Magnarian with the camera, and the deepest shame fills me.

I was just broadcasted to trillions of people, that his bravery and willingness to do anything to claim me was shown to the worlds, that they saw me give him an impossible obstacle, and then, once he conquered it, they saw me kissing him back, lost in the moment, everything melting away.

His nostrils flare, and the triumphant look in his deep blue eyes makes me hate him anew, and hate myself, because the Aurelian Prince can taste my emotions, and as much as I tried to push it down, I know he tasted that tendril of agonizing need.

He knows that deep down, my body wants him, in a primal, humiliating way I cannot control, and so I look up at him, my jaw set, letting my hatred overwhelm me, so that it will sour my scent.

He waves away the Magnarian recording, who disappears, and looks down at me. I have to crane my neck up at the titan. He is huge in robes, and the bulk of his massive armor makes him a giant before me.

“Your hatred makes your need so sweet,” he says, his voice dripping with dark promise, his eyes too wide. He breathes in my scent once more, exulting in it, and the true victory was not his insane bravery as he risked everything for a kiss, but in the reaction he forced out of me.

“Control yourself,” I snap, stepping back away from.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open, he is in control once more.

“I would ask you do not humiliate my battle-brothers. The rules are clear. I alone must pass the rites. It is done.”

I glance over at Gallien and at Titus. Titus is looking at the edge, his jaw steeled, and I know he would try for it.

“I think Titus may try it, if I don’t.”

“He would. He has a lot of pride. Would you really want to rip my battle-brother from me? Leave me a broken triad?”

I remember that feeling of pure loss when I thought Doman gone. I do not know either of the three, but I know that feeling, and I never want to feel it again.

“I will accept them at the ceremonial flow.”

“Thank you, Adriana,” he says, and hefts the atmospheric shielding device over his shoulder as if it is weightless, that same device that made Thrain struggle and grunt with each step.

I walk at his side silently in the tunnels. There are no glittering minerals and crystals here.

I stop, looking up at him, shaking my head, the shimmering strands of the veil moving. “Why? Why did you risk that?”

“Did you really think a flow of magma would keep from you?”

“Not forever. I thought you’d go back to your war, and when it was won, I knew I’d face you again.”

“You hacked or took our school records. That’s the only way you could have known of Gallien’s patents, the research he discovered in Academy.”

“And so?”

“Perhaps you should have checked our physical scores. The human record for long jump is over thirty feet. My personal record is near fifty.”

I pause, confused. “Then why did you almost fall in?”

“I didn’t. I jumped to catch the lip of the edge with my hand. I don’t make mistakes, Adriana.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed to understand your hatred. I needed to know if when I pulled myself up, I would smell triumph and relief… or regret and loss. I have my answer now, Adriana. You know, deep down, that a universe without me is empty. You know we are meant to be together.”

I step back, anger flaring. “You bastard. You toyed with me.”

“As you toyed with me. What will be next? Will you slice my artery open on Terosa, in the union of the knives? Will you force me to go alone into an ice storm to hunt down a wyrm on Frosthold? Whatever you put in front of me, I will conquer. Because now I have tasted your scent, Adriana, now I have felt what you try every moment to resist. You belong to me.” His voice is a dark promise, and my heart pounds, and suddenly, I can’t be alone with the alien prince.

I rush around the corner, and he follows me down the tunnels until we get back into the ceremonial betrothal cavern, lit up by beautiful crystals, where the tiny magma flow looks like nothing compared to the huge torrents of fire he braved to get to me.

Gallien and Titus are standing on the other side.

I face them, holding my head up high as Titus steps over the ceremonial flow.

He strides to me with purpose, pressing the veil back, and he kisses me, urgent and hungry, his lips without technique, aching for me.

His tongue swirls into mine, and I smell his scent, beastlier than Doman’s, masculinity that should make me crinkle my nose but which is right in a way I’m not ready for.

He breaks off the kiss, triumph in his hard gray eyes, and Gallien steps over the flow, carefully.

While Doman and Titus have warrior’s features, with wide jaws like anvils, Gallien is strangely beautiful in a masculine way, every line of his face chiseled, his Romanesque nose, his high cheekbones, even the thick gray stubble giving him an air of authority.

I expected him to kiss me softly, more hesitantly, but he runs his fingers under my chin, forcing my gaze upwards, and his hard, gray eyes stare at me with dominance.

They tell me that I am his, and that deep down, I know it, and that my fight against it is hopeless.

A frisson runs down my spine, because I had expected him to be the most human of all three, but the way the alien looks at me is with pure possession as he leans in and kisses me, his tongue conquering my mouth, leaving me breathless and panting.

That shameful tendril of lust has wrapped its way up my body, inflaming me, and I cannot hide it from them. Their nostrils flare, and the triumph in my eyes tells me everything.

They believe me conquered. That primal, insistent lust is feverish in my veins, but I keep my face calm and composed, facing the triad.

“It is our great honor that the first of the betrothal rituals is complete!” booms out Thrain, and though I can’t see his features through his helmet, I know he’s smiling in triumph.