Page 25

ADRIANA

I went back to his warship alone in silence, straight back to my cramped quarters on my ship. I wanted to be alone, and I changed back into my familiar gray uniform, but it felt strange and uncomfortable against my skin, like I was a stranger in my own attire.

I couldn’t face the prospect of sitting there, all by myself, just waiting to be brought to Terosa for the next ritual that will bind me closer to them.

No matter how hard I try to wriggle out of this, I’m starting to accept the horrible truth.

I am going to end up as the Princess of the royal triad.

And if we are to be at each other’s sides, they cannot be strangers to me.

And so I forced myself out of my room, out of my ship, walking through the masses of Aurelians working on ships who saluted me, feeling like I was in a trance, until I stood in front of their throne room and asked the guards for an audience.

“Enter,” comes Prince Doman’s voice. There’s a tension to it, hard as steel.

The three titans are sitting on their thrones. With a wave of his hand, Doman makes the tapestry of stars disappear in front of him. The guards clear the room, closing the huge doors behind me.

They look like death. Their features are hard, their jaws clenched, and Doman is running his hand over the hilt of his blade.

If I thought I knew them, for that moment when they kissed me, now I see how truly alien they are.

They have lived centuries. They have molded since their first moment into warriors. They are filled with darkness.

I had been expecting to walk into a room of cocky triumph, drenched in the arrogance of their beings, because they smelled that tendril of my aching need when they kissed me.

Instead, I am faced with hard-set determination, and the crowns on their heads have never fit more naturally.

They are clad in the fighting togas of their species, cut to show off the left sides of their chests, and I face a wall of muscles.

Gallien is chiseled, without an ounce of fat, his body lean violence, while the other two are thick and beefy, slabs of muscle over their wide frames.

My words dry up in my mouth, but I force myself to speak.

“If I am going to be spending the next three years by your side, we cannot be strangers,” I say, looking at them each in turn and getting nothing back but hard, cold gazes.

“This is true,” states Doman.

“I want to make one thing clear. You are not going to... claim me in front of your soldiers on Colossus. I am not going to partake in that part of your species’ wedding rituals. And I am not going to be like a harem wench on Colossus.”

Claim . A softer word than the reality of what they want to do. In their species’ customs, I would be bred in front of the masses of soldiers, the three beasts seeding me one after another.

“We will treat you with honor. With respect,” says Doman.

It’s hard to believe.

“The first woman you saw. Who was she?” I ask. “Other than your mother.”

“Servants,” answers Doman.

“And then? Your first memory of a woman outside of your palace.”

He shrugs. “We snuck out of Academy. Harem raids. Climbing over manor walls, sneaking to the women who attend to the ancient old men who do more drinking wine and philosophizing than fucking. Is that what you wanted to hear? That the first woman I saw was in a pleasure dress?”

I cross my arms. “Are you even capable of looking at human women as anything more than toys?”

Doman and Titus remain unmoved, statues, but Gallien’s eyes flash.

He leans in. “When I look at the universe, I hate the disorder. The weakness. Because it reflects my own failures. Every weakness reminds me that I must overcome my imperfections.” His voice is dark and intense.

“You hate the harems because they scare you, Adriana. They scare you with what they reflect.”

“That is not true.”

“No? You’re a proud woman, Adriana. A proud woman who rules, who alone is responsible for over a hundred billion souls.

You’re frightened by what you know is true.

That if you were leashed, naked, in this room, linked to my wrist, you would be inflamed with a lust you could not control.

That deep down, you ache for things you cannot accept. ”

My heart pounds. I step back, unprepared for his directness, his vulgarities, but the strangest thing is that when Gallien speaks, his voice does not sound crude. He describes dark, sensuous pictures as if they are statements of fact.

“I did not come here to be insulted.” My voice quakes, because I am unprepared for the frisson that runs down my spine, for the tightness in my nipples as my body reacts to his words. My plain, gray garb feels uncomfortable, like it is scratching against my over-sensitive skin.

“There is no insult. It is your nature, whether you admit it or not.”

“And I’ve felt your nature,” I hiss. “I know what you are. Brutes.”

“You know who we are,” growls Doman, his voice low and rumbly. I more feel it that hear it. “You felt us. Deeper than anyone else knows us. You felt our essence.”

I glance at the black ring around his finger, gleaming darkly. “You’re right. We’re not strangers. You felt me, and I felt you. You’re wolves. The moment you take those rings off, that is when you show your real self. And you’re nothing but beasts.”

Doman places his hands on the marble armrests, his bright blue eyes staring through me.

He lifts himself, heavily, and stalks towards me, moving with predatory grace.

He stops before me, towering, staring down, his golden mane of hair framing his marble face, every feature hard and chiseled, a Viking god with burning eyes.

“Do you think me so weak? I learned to control myself when I was but a child. I learned to withstand things you could never dream,” he snarls, his voice filled with anger. “You do not want to be a stranger to me? Then see me.”

He pulls the ring off and squeezes it in his fist, his forearm clenching and bulging.

Doman’s nostrils flare, and my heart pounds as he tastes my scent. His battle-brothers are alarmed, unable to hide their emotions, and they move to get up, but Doman raises his fist, stopping them as his eyes roll back and he exults in my being.

His muscles tense, the toga of his species showing half his chest, the hard, rippling muscles flexing, every line of his abs sharp, his entire body taut as he forces his eyes to focus, forcing his gaze on me.

His lips curl back, showing his bright white teeth, and his toga tents forward as his huge, alien cock stiffens and throbs in a heartbeat, becoming steel.

The pure white robes darken as his cock pumps Aurelian pre-cum, the pearly seed designed so that the enormous alien warrior species can force their enormous manhoods into tight little human slits.

I step back, in horror, in shock, but there is another emotion surging up in me.

This deep, feverish frisson of need floods my body.

I ache for the alien prince in a way that terrifies me, heat flushing between my legs as my body reacts uncontrollably. I’m soaking wet, and when he next inhales, he tastes my naked lust. The smile of triumph on his face is a mockery as he steps closer.

I walk back, step after step, the huge alien beast hunting me, his eyes watching me too intensely, focused on my every move for when I may try to bolt.

My back hits the heavy doors, and he boxes me in, this massive wall of muscle and ravenous need.

His body is inflamed for me, the mating rage overwhelming him, his robes soaked from his cock pumping endlessly, standing straight up in front of him.

There are only a few thin layers of cloth between me and that thing.

Doman’s breathing is a heavy pant as he towers over me, and I press against the wall.

He reaches his huge hand forward, his fingers gently stroking under my chin, exulting in touching me, and he forces me to look up, pressing my gaze upwards with his fingers.

I meet that ravenous gaze and I quiver. His tongue runs over his lips, and his cock is tented straight out, huge and hungry, with a mind of its own, a mind that wants one thing.

To ruin me. To stretch me open, to bind me to him for eternity, to make me fit only for his bed.

His nostrils flare, and his eyes roll, but he gets control of himself, barely, meeting my gaze, every muscle in his body tensed to the limit, the veins in his massive bicep bulging.

He steps in closer, and the head of his cock is so close to touching me, pressing out from his robes, and I smell his seed, his sweaty musk, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes past my lips.

“The need… it hurts, Adriana. Every… instinct in my body… tells me to rip your clothes off, to take what is mine, ” he growls, the words strange on his lips as he growls, as if he’s losing even the ability to speak.

“But I can control it,” he snarls. He puts his hand against the wall above me, pinning me in, so that my entire world is the Aurelian titan who towers over me, my head barely at his belly button, so I’m staring straight at his inflamed member, and my mouth waters, the scent of his pre-cum making me crave him.

My own body is on fire. My nipples are hard, desperate buds, aching for his violent touch.

I feel so empty, so needy, my pussy tingling, aching agonizingly for the beast. The lust is torture.

I want to throw everything away, to give in, to melt under his dominance.

I want to feel my mind go blank, to lose all my tension, all my stress, the weight of worlds on my shoulders disappearing as he claims me.

I want to lose my mind in the submission to the beast.

“Doman, please, put the ring back on,” I gasp, begging, because I cannot stand another moment, because I know I’m about to snap, to give in completely, and I don’t know who I will be after the Aurelian triad has ruined me.