Alien Romance: The Alien's Vanished Princess: Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Alien Romance, Alien Invasion Romance, BBW) (Space Beasts Book 4) Read online

  Things grew even more vague; she knew from her mother’s description of her own wedding to Dad that it was common for such a day to be a blur, but she hadn’t expected the same thing to happen to her. This was a fake wedding, after all. A sham. She was a liar, an infiltrator, here for her sister’s sake and for no other reason. Why, then, was her head swimming so badly?

  The palace was a single spiral-shaped tower rising from the very center of the city, dotted with windows of multicolored glass. They made their way toward it quickly, passing a checkpoint before floating through the inner gate to the sterile-looking courtyard beyond.

  They disembarked, and Janis led her gently in through a side door, and down a corridor lined with unmarked doors. The entire place was illuminated by a milky white light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. It added to her sense of unreality so much that she started to feel as if her mind was skipping blocks of time.

  When she regained her focus enough to look around again, she found herself in a small room, surrounded by dressmakers equipment, being clucked over by a tall, spindly old woman who was sewing her into a pale blue wedding dress. She looked down at it, vaguely aware that the fabric shimmered like ice in the sun and felt smooth against her skin.

  “Are you all right, dear? You seem very frightened.” The old woman had darker eyes than she was used to from Temporans, an almost human-like gray. They were filled with concern as she continued to help Moira get dressed. “Your hands are very cold.”

  “Well, it's not as if I've ever gotten married before,” she managed.

  “I suppose that's understandable, then.” The woman beamed at her, her face kind. “Well, my name's Telara. I will be your personal servant from here on. I served the old Queen, Brenn’s Mother, for many years. I'm sure that we'll get along just fine.”

  It's not you that I'm worried about getting along with, Moira thought as Telara started braiding up her hair.

  Finally, primped, dressed, painted, perfumed, and thoroughly hollow inside, Moira walked back out of the room to where Janis was waiting for her. He offered his arm, and she took it, and he led her down the hall again, this time deep into the castle.

  They finally walked out into an enormous audience chamber filled with people. That had to be at least five hundred in attendance, seated in chairs around the edges of the round room, with a space cleared in the center where two figures waited. One was wearing robes of pure white, and had his head shaved. Her guess was that this was the priest. The second was Brenn, and the sight of him slowly started bringing her back to herself.

  He smiled when he saw her. His eyes lit up, and that face she had always equated with false friendliness and mystery looked even more beautiful in person. He wore white and silver armor, the cloak across his shoulders of the same fabric that her dress was made of, and as she approached him through the parting crowd, he held out his hands to her.

  Moira stepped forward, forcing herself to smile, forcing herself to pretend excitement instead of this numbing fear. When his huge hands engulfed hers, she felt an unexpected jolt of warmth run up her arms, forcing away more of the numbness and dragging her back into the present.

  He gazed down at her with his silvery eyes, and his smile widened, a look of surprised fascination in their depths. He squeezed her hands gently, then turned and led her over to the priest, still holding both of her hands in his own.

  They did not kneel before the priest, merely stood there while the soft conversations of the crowd died down and the priest stepped forward to stand close to them.

  The priest spread his arms, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. “King Brenn, Sovereign of Temporis,” he intoned in a voice that rang authoritatively through the room, “Do you accept this woman of Earth as your lawful wife? Do you swear to protect her, and share your life and belongings with her, for the remainder of your days?”

  The eager gleam in Brenn’s eyes unnerved her. He spoke up as well, his own voice ringing and full of confidence. “I, Brenn, Sovereign of Temporis, do swear these things.”

  For a moment Moira braced herself to have to swear a similar oath, but apparently the woman had no speaking role in her own wedding on this world. Instead the priest simply produced two sets of jeweled bracelets from within the sash that ran from his shoulder to his waist. The gems iridesced brilliantly in the light from all around.

  Working quickly, he fastened a bracelet on each of their wrists, locking them in place with a long key that he wore around his neck. He then replaced the key, straightened, and announced to the assembly, “It is done. Let the mating bond be celebrated henceforth.”

  A cheer rose from the crowd. Brenn smiled down at her triumphantly, and she forced another smile in response. Apparently, he was too caught up in his own happiness to notice that hers was faked--or perhaps her happiness wasn’t relevant to him. She couldn’t tell.

  Part of her wanted to tear off the bracelets, yank the knife from his belt and hold it on him as she demanded to know where Tara was. But instead, she felt the numbness rise up again as he started leading her off through the crowd, toward a side door that was decorated with garlands of greenery and flowers.

  Chapter 4: Wedding Night

  “You seem nervous,” Brenn said quietly at her ear as he led her through the door. She seized up inside as she saw the room beyond: a smaller, round chamber dominated by an enormous, canopied bed draped with more garlands, with a steaming bathing pool on the far end.

  He led her through the door to cheers, and let her go to close the door behind them. “Are you virginal?” he asked, with that curious little Temporan head-tilt. “Do you fear that I will hurt you?”

  Considering that I don’t know what you might have done to my sister, of course I am. “I don’t know. I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing.”

  It was more accurate to say that she didn't have much in the way of good experiences of sex. Unlike Tara, who had always gone through men like snacks, Moira had always been picky and careful about her choice of lovers.

  Unfortunately, she could be careful and picky, only to discover that the man in question, although interesting in other ways and not the sort who would ever harm her, was a complete dud in bed. She had had a total of three lovers in her life, and each time, everything had been going fairly well until such a time as they had ended up in the sack together.

  As soon as their relationship had become sexual, it was as if the man in question had forgotten that her body existed outside of the square inches of flesh that would satisfy his dick. No matter what caresses or kisses or cuddling she had enjoyed with them before that, the moment that their clothes came off, all three men had become far more interested in using her body than in pleasuring it.

  None of her three relationships had lasted much beyond those first encounters. All three men had blamed her for that. The truth was that a combination of wounded male pride and selfishness had done her connection with them in. She couldn't call it a relationship-damaging mistake that after the awful first bout with each, she had gently sat the offender down and asked for a change.

  She had kindly, encouragingly brought up subjects like including foreplay, and where her pleasure points were located. In response, the first had thrown a tantrum, cursing her out and stomping out of her life in a storm of thrown objects and slammed doors. The second had gone analytical, asking about her hangups, condescendingly trying to explain how a “non-frigid” woman would have climaxed easily from his three minutes of bland, dry poking. She had blocked his number the next day. The third had simply shut down, gone silent and walked out.

  Now, as Brenn moved toward her with a confident smile, she only hoped that his beauty and overwhelming masculinity wasn't a veil for even more selfish, fragile sexual pride. Her mind was starting to catch up with her body, though right now, she wished it wouldn't. If she could disconnect, maybe this would all be easier….

  He took her in his arms, purring in her ear, “I have been waiting far too long
for this,” reminding her that what had been a two week courtship for her had in fact been almost a year for him. She caught her breath, torn between relaxing into his warm embrace and bracing herself for whatever he might choose to push on her after that.

  “Do not be frightened, little one. I will not harm you.” His huge, long-fingered hand slid up and down her back, a caress that shocked her in how soothing it felt. Her pounding heart slowed, and she felt her muscles relax slightly.

  “What is it?” He asked her gently, as he seemed to sense how long it was taking her to relax. After the perfunctory ceremony, where he had claimed her without her having any say in it at all besides showing up, his sudden tenderness disarmed her. He tilted his head, gazing down at her curiously. “Have you never had a man before?”

  She thought back to those three, and the tantrums they had thrown when she had asked them very kindly to see to her needs as well, and then sighed, shaking her head. “No one who was any good at it.”

  He smiled slowly, as if he knew a secret that she was not yet privy to. “Well then, I think that you are in for a surprise.”

  She looked up at him to ask him what he meant, only for him to bring his mouth down on hers in a lingering kiss that was feather-light at first, but quickly intensified. His lips were warm and agile, and she froze for a moment, too startled to know how to respond. But eventually, instinct kicked in, and she returned the kiss, feeling her toes curl inside of her soft slippers.

  Suddenly, her heart was starting to beat fast for another reason entirely, and she shivered, feeling the same conflict rise up in her all the more urgently. He was dangerous. He could have her killed on a whim. He was much bigger and stronger than she was, and he had the whole planet at his command.

  If he wanted to do anything to her, that he chose, he could, and the others would just cover for him. There would be nothing she could do about it. He might even have destroyed her sister: Killed her, or even sold her into slavery.

  She had to be wary, and not fall into an emotional trap. And yet at the same time, the only way that she could find out what had really happened to Tara was to play along for now. Gain his trust. And the only way to play along for now was to focus on the tingling warmth that his kiss was awakening inside of her.

  His dress armor was made of some leathery stuff that she could gain no purchase on with her fingers. She clutched at it and felt her nails slide against it, leaving her feeling strangely frustrated. She had to content herself with grasping his broad shoulders instead. But then his own hands slid back through her hair, cupping the back of her head and tilting it back as he darted his tongue into her mouth.

  He tasted of mint and wine, and his skin smelled of sweat, some faint masculine cologne and whatever strange hide his armor was made from. She breathed him in, gasping through her nose as his lips ravaged hers. She couldn't ever remember feeling a kiss this potent. When he finally broke it so that she could properly come up for air, all she could do was stare up at him in amazement.

  “You really haven't been treated properly by a man, now have you?” He punctuated the question with a chuckle, then ran his lips down her ear and over her jaw line, then down the pulse of her neck, and over her collarbone where the wide neckline of the gown exposed it.

  His tongue darted out then, and he worked it over her collarbone, down into the hollow of her throat, and then dipped it briefly into the top of her exposed cleavage.

  Her eyes widened; she dug her teeth into her lip to try and keep her focus, but his fingers were already busy with the lacing at the front of the gown, nimbly loosening it as her gaze swept in half-blind amazement over the domed ceiling. The sense of unreality rose up again, threatening to leave her helpless; she clenched her fingers in his hair as his lips traced down over the skin the loosened laces exposed, suddenly desperately wanting to stay present.

  Then the bodice, unlaced completely, parted to his questing mouth and hands; he slid it off her shoulders and down to hang off her waist. She just had time for a moment’s self-consciousness before his hot mouth closed over her nipple.

  She sucked air in shock, untouched nerve endings almost aching with an overload of sensation. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the pull of his mouth all through her, until it practically brought her up on her toes. Her back arched; she suddenly couldn’t properly catch her breath, and his only response was to chuckle again against her flesh, and lift her by her waist against him.

  I have to keep on my guard with him that tiny voice of reason kept insisting, even as he carried her over to the bed. I can’t get too deeply into this. I can’t lose my objectivity. He could be a monster under that beautiful surface. I just don’t know….

  But the voice was getting fainter and fainter behind the thunder of her heart and the song of her nerve endings. He loosened the sash at her waist and pulled the dress off of her the rest of the way, leaving her nude save for the low slippers. She had just enough presence of mind to kick them off before he straightened and threw off his cloak.

  He watched her with burning eyes as he loosened his knife belt and threw it aside, then unbuckled the straps on his armor one by one. She watched him come out of the supple leather piece by piece: shoulders first, then his arms, then his calves and feet; his powerful thighs, gleaming like marble; his chest as he tossed the breastplate away.

  She saw the faded stripe of a knife scar across his left pectoral, and blinked at it briefly before he freed himself of his codpiece and loincloth as well, and climbed up to join her on the bed.

  She caught a glimpse of what he was packing and tensed slightly, knowing it would have to hurt; she couldn’t imagine what he could do to fit it into her comfortably. But when he crouched over her, he simply reached down and cupped her mound in one palm, then gently started kneading it, his thumb sliding up to stimulate her more directly.

  Her eyes widened and she whimpered, the back of her head digging into the soft coverlet; electric waves of pleasure started to run through her, radiating from her groin through her hips and outward, while he bent over her, and his other hand explored every inch of her skin.

  She was panting now, her skin flushed warmly, her hands sliding over his sides and back and down to his hips, her caresses almost reflexive as she arched and rolled her hips under him. His mouth found her other nipple, forcing a groan through her teeth as her hands fluttered helplessly against his skin.

  He took his time, almost tormenting her, leaving her awash in pleasure but starting to ache with an almost unfamiliar need. No man had ever taken the time to leave her craving to be filled by him, but more and more, she felt it: like a hunger she had never known.

  His own breath had started to shudder as it blew against the skin of her breasts; he bent lower over her, and she felt his shaft slide against her lower thigh where it hung off the edge of the bed. He let out a soft grunt at the contact, and raised his head from her breast, sliding up to capture her mouth with his again.

  She returned the kiss hungrily, grasping at him, her thighs parting and tangling with his, the movement of her hand against her leaving her too feverish any more to worry about pain. Then she felt the firm push of his sex; she tensed, but not in apprehension, for her body was going taut with pleasure and need. Her back arched; he slid into her firmly, stretching her just enough that the intensity put her over the edge and waves of ecstasy rolled through her body.

  She cried out, thrashing; he kissed her neck and started to thrust into her, long, rough strokes that kept her from coming down, even as his hand kept stimulating her insistently. She clung to him, gasping, eyes rolling, her body already starting to tense again as he moved faster.

  He pushed her into the mattress with his hips as he braced his feet on the floor, body weight held on one hand as the other kept working its magic. His voice started to rise in little shouts; her own rose with it as her hips lifted reflexively to meet his again and again.

  Her mind swam; she felt her muscles tighten around him as he started to shudder
; then her tension uncoiled again in spasms so intense that she screamed.

  His back arched; his muscles locked. A few moments later, she felt him spasm inside of her, and heard a groan of almost anguish join her cries.

  A while later, he managed to pull himself off of her, and drowsily carried her to the bath. The warm water’s embrace nearly put her to sleep, but it took the itch of drying sweat from her skin, and she sighed contentedly as he cradled her. This isn’t so bad, she thought...and tried to wonder why that thought should worry her.

  Chapter 5: The Search Begins

  Moira slept deeply for a long time, the first time that she could remember doing so in months. Now and again, she did wake up briefly, just enough to be aware of the massive form breathing softly beside her. She felt deep warmth at realizing that Brenn had stayed.

  Once, she pulled away slightly, only to have him roll over, make a soft, unhappy noise, and wrap an arm around her gently. The gesture only made the warmth inside of her grow. Something at the back of her mind nagged at her, trying to remind her of why that feeling was dangerous. But she was too besotted with this very new sort of satisfaction to think about it for too long.

  She was so exhausted that she didn't dream for a long time, and when she finally did, daylight was starting to spill into the room through the translucent walls, turning her dreams shallower, and mixing elements of reality in with them.

  She still lay on the bed with Brenn beside her. His arm was still looped loosely around her, a gesture both comforting and possessive. But something else lay against her other side...something clammy and cold. Something that stank.

  Shuddering in revulsion, she froze, afraid to look over and see what it was. But that would do nothing for her. It stayed where it was, and would cling to her still until she dealt with it.

  (What was that smell? Blood?)

  Finally, she forced herself to turn her head.