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“My parents request a conference. I must go to the throne room. I’ll be back soon.” He stands, grabbing his battle-robes and donning them, tightening the belt around his waist, the hilt of his blade bouncing.

“Should I come with you? I’ve yet to talk to my future in-laws,” I ask, looking up at Doman from the sprawling, comfortable expanse of the bed.

His eyes tighten. It was awkward enough for him to meet my family, and my parents, though high status on Virelia, manage only the forests on a single planet.

His family rules an Empire.

“Let’s delay that moment. My mother… don’t take it personal. But she isn’t going to like you. Not unless we told you that you’re my Fated Mate.”

I grimace. My diplomatic poker face relaxes around the three of them. “Because the only thing she wants from me is to pump out grandsons.”

Doman tenses. I regret the harshness of my words. No matter what my thoughts on Queen Jasmine and her triad of Emperors, they are his parents. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” I say, pushing myself up from the bed, while Titus lays languidly beside me, like a huge cat spreading out.

Doman smiles slightly, softening his stony visage. “It’s fine. You don’t have to watch your tongue with me. It’s better no one knows that you are our Fated Mate, not even my family. You’ve got a target on your back as our fiancée. But once we finish the final ritual on Frosthold, you’ll be safer.”

Gallien nods from the bed across from me. “Obsidian’s forces might even prefer you alive.”

“Why would they care?”

Titus shifts behind me. “Because if we are wedded to you, in Obsidian’s eyes, we’re kept away from our Fated Mate,” he rumbles.

Doman brushes his robes, straightening them, but they are already flawless.

I have to admit, I wasn’t paying attention to where he put his robe when he undresses—I was rather distracted by rows of Aurelians abs—but the three of them folded their robes in quick, practiced succession, even inflamed by their desires.

It reminds me that they each spent a full century training for war in the harsh Aurelian Academy, where not even a prince is given preferential treatment.

Doman can see my confusion. “My brother, Bruton. He used to be a few inches shorter than me. Now I look up at him. The Bond changes an Aurelian. And not just physically. It makes one’s mind sharper. One’s reactions quicker. Obsidian will not wish to face against my Bonded form.”

“It does the same for a human mate,” says Gallien, his flint eyes tracing up and down my body, resting finally on my eyes as he imagines me changing through the Bond. “When we arrive on Colossus, you should speak with Evelyn, mate of Bruton. She can tell you firsthand what the Bond entails.”

I bite my lip. “My speaking with a Bonded mate won’t put any suspicion on us?”

Doman walks to me, leans down, and kisses me on my forehead. “It’s very natural. You want to learn what it is to be wedded to princes. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says, gently stroking my hair, wanting one last touch, before he strides to the door.

“Don’t rush! I’ve got a bunch of work to do back on my ship. Every planet is squabbling over the new Aurelian resources.” I shake my head, wincing at the arguments I’m going to face. “Greedy hands outstretched for a piece of the pie.”

I stand and look down at my body, the rivers of seed down my thighs, the flush of my skin, the marks of their hands on my body.

I’m still pleasantly floating in the afterglow of the orgasms, the most delicious stretching soreness soothed by their seed.

It’s like the feeling after going for a long run, an earned tiredness.

My own dress is in a messy pile on the floor, and I can’t help but smile as I see the craftwork my sister put into it.

“Why don’t you change into something less formal?” asks Gallien, as the door shuts behind Doman.

“I will. On my ship. I need a shower first,” I say, running my hands over my body, and taking in a huge breath. I look like sex, my hair a mess, my body sweaty.

I stretch and yawn, and as my hands rises over my head, Gallien can’t help but stare at my breasts as they push out. He’s addicted to my body, and I love it.

“Mind if I join you?”

I raise my brow at him. “In the shower? Only if you play nice.”

Gallien dives forward, his monstrous form moving with lightning speed, and lifts me, throwing me over his shoulder as I squeal and mock hit him on the back, as if he is a caveman taking me to his lair. He runs to the showers, and soon, the warm, soothing waters are running over my body.

“Enough of this game, let me down!” I say, sputtering over his back, my cheeks flushing red with indignation.

The sheer size of the Aurelians always feels theoretical until they manhandle me like a toy.

There might be some humans near their height, but none have the bulk and strength of the alien species, corded muscles with dense strength, their bodies like coiled springs.

“Now why would I do that?” Gallien runs his huge hand over my ass, gently stroking my skin as I am trapped helplessly over his shoulder.

I smack his back, harder, and gasp as he returns my helpless attempt to wriggle free with a heavy, resounding spank on my ass. I writhe in his arms, but he keeps me firmly over his shoulder, ignoring my futile struggle.

“Gallien!” He squeezes my ass in response, a low growl deep in his throat, and his fingers slide gently towards my slit. He truly is insatiable, and he loves to take control.

The idea flickers in my mind, and instead of fighting him, I go limp. I press a kiss on his broad, muscled back as water runs down his physique, cascading off him like rain on a statue. “Sir, would you pretty please let me down?” I keep my voice soft and submissive, and his body tenses in response.

He sets me down in front of him, and my eyes widen at the effect of my words.

His cock is rock hard in seconds, pulsing to life, curving upwards.

I run my hands over his wet abs, trailing my fingers closer to the monstrosity between his legs, and look up at him.

His slate-gray eyes are wild with need. He wasn’t expecting this side of me.

“Thank you, sir, ” I coo, and his dick throbs in response, a pearly string of pre-cum dripping from the tip.

“Careful there, Adriana.”

“Oh? You’re the only one allowed to have fun?” I give him a wicked grin, then step back, my back hitting the wall, and I put my finger up. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, mister. He’s going to have to wait.”

It’s tempting. I didn’t think I could want a man as much as I do the three Aurelians.

Standing in front of over seven feet of muscled perfection, chiseled abs and raw strength with that huge, perfectly formed cock hard as diamond in front of me is hard to resist. Gallien raises his hands and puts shampoo on them, gently washing my hair, and I close my eyes, letting the alien clean me, the warm water making their seed drip down my legs and away.

He gives the command to the AI to dry us off, and we walk out together. He grabs a thick cotton bathrobe, which to my surprise is in my size, and puts it on me.

“Come with me,” he says. “I want to show you something.”

“Nice try. I’ve already seen the pleasure room. You’re not getting me in there,” I say, but my heart quickens, imagining him throwing me over his shoulder and pulling me in while I kick and flail, unable to do anything to escape him.

“No, something else,” he says, a sly look in his eyes.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises.” He doesn’t even bother to put on a robe, completely comfortable in his nudity, and I have to admit I enjoy watching his physique as I follow him down the hallways.

Everything about him is in perfect proportion, the V taper of his broad shoulders down to his taut waist, the roll of his well-formed, taut buttocks, his powerful hips designed to thrust.

Gallien raises his hand, and a door to his right opens automatically. He steps aside, motioning me in with a smile.

It’s a room bigger than the meeting room in my ship, and it’s filled with clothes, floating in rows, from ballroom gowns to sweatpants and hoodies, fur coats that could warm you in a blizzard, hundreds of pairs of shoes.

I’m stunned. “My sister would love this,” I say, thinking of her instantly, as I walk to the row of coats, running my hand through the thick white furs.

“Then I’ll have another made for her and sent to Virelia in her size,” says Gallien.

“She’d take over the entire house with the wardrobe,” I laugh in awe. “All of these, for me? I could wear a new outfit each day for a lifetime.”

The look in his eyes tells me he was thinking of a Bonded lifetime.

“How did you know my size?”

“You’re my obsession, Adriana. When I saw you, you were seared into my mind. I see you every time I close my eyes. I’ve watched every parliamentary address, every public appearance.”

I raise my eyebrow at him and walk down the next row. “And who were these for? They’re way too big. If you think this is my cup size, you’re dreaming.” I say, running my hand over dresses.

He just smiles at me, and I get it. “Oh, I see.”

“I planned for every eventuality.”

I look past the row of maternity wear, and another row, nearer to the back of the room, catches my eyes.

The back of the room is a mirror, and like flowers, the pleasure dresses hover in the air.

They seem to react to the minute changes in temperature of my body, the fine strands gently rippling and shimmering.

As if I am entranced, I walk down the row and run my fingers over a vibrant yellow pleasure dress, so sheer and low cut I would feel more naked in it than wearing nothing at all.

“I feel like I’ve got a stalker.” I turn, and Gallien is gone. My heart pounds. I look in the mirror, for any sign of him, but he’s gone.

I turn, and he’s there, towering over me, bringing his hand up to my chin and gently stroking it as he leans in for a kiss. When we break it off, his cock is rock-hard once more. “Try it on.”

“Turn around and close your eyes,” I say, and he does, turning away from me as I slip the bathrobe off.

I take the yellow dress from where it is floating, and at the first pull, whatever was keeping it in the air disappears, and it falls into my hands.

I’ve never felt anything so soft, so silky, so alive, the material coming to life under my hands.

I pull the dress over my naked body, and it shimmers, a thousand tiny fingers and lips kissing my nipples, teasing and toying between my legs, and I’m slick with need, my nipples hardening under the stimulation.

“So this is what Aurelians put their little harem toys in to torment them endlessly,” I say, my voice soft, submissive.

“Turn around, but keep your eyes closed,” I say, and he does as I tell him.

I bite my lip, feasting my eyes on him, looking him up and down, every inch of his marble perfection, his engorged manhood throbbing with desire.

In the mirror I see how exposed I am, the light-yellow dress so thin you can see every curve of my body, my peaked nipples, and it hugs against my ass, the material driving me wild as it teases my most sensitive spots.

I pull off my watch and drop it. I’m going to be late for my meeting, and right now, I don’t care.

“Open your eyes,” I say, and his lids rise, his gray eyes widening as he takes me in.

“You’re art,” he gasps, and then he’s on me, unable to resist, lifting me up, his hands on my ass as he spreads my legs open, and I look in the mirror, seeing how tiny I am in his arms as he pulls me down against his curved, marble cock, impaling me with the most satisfying, stretching pleasure, and I gasp as the sensation overwhelms me and I lose my mind in the alien prince’s embrace.