Page 2 of Taken By the Alien Siren King

“I don’t give a fuck what the council feels,” I cut him off. “I am King. I decide who attends this summit.”

My brother’s eyes—so like our father’s but lacking the gold ring around the iris—hardened to emerald chips. “As your heir, I have the right to be present for all matters of state. Unless you plan to name another successor?”

The challenge hung between us. He knew I wouldn’t—couldn’t—remove him as heir. Not without destabilizing the kingdom.

The Knights shifted behind him, a silent reminder of their growing influence.

Not for the first time, I regretted sending Nedaris to train on the frontier. The time I’d spent there had done me well—cleared my head, given me focus beyond bedding every willing body in the kingdom. I’d thought the experience would do the same for him, help him grow beyond his grief over our father’s death. But where I’d found clarity, he’d found the Knights and their rigid doctrine.

A distant boom rolled across the sky, vibrating through my bones. The capsule had entered the atmosphere. Heads poked from nearby tents like curious fish from coral, the momentary distraction diffusing some of the tension between us.

“Fine,” I spat, turning my attention back to Nedaris. “Stay. Watch. But keep your Knights in line. They start any trouble, andI’ll personally see them returned to the depths they worship so much.”

I stalked back to my cushions and reclaimed my lounging position with practiced nonchalance. Nedaris took his place at my right as tradition demanded, his burning stare boring into the side of my face. The advisors arranged themselves in formation, while the Knights positioned themselves along the tent walls like living statues.

And then we waited. Gods below, I hated the waiting. Kings spent their entire lives waiting. Waiting for reports, waiting for councils, waiting for crises to resolve. I didn’t get to see the capsule land. Didn’t get to watch the humans emerge, blinking in our alien sunlight. Didn’t get to observe their first reactions to our world.

Instead, I sat on my ass. Waiting.

I drummed my fingers against my goblet, counting the minutes by the crash of waves against the shore. From outside came sounds of footsteps rushing to and fro, voices calling out directions, the swell of outrage as the protestors grew bolder with each passing moment.

Then something else. A faint, strange rhythm.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Not the drums of protest. Not drums from one of the other delegations. This was something… different. More organic. Insistent.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

It grew louder with each passing second. Not from outside, but somehow inside my own head. Like blood rushing through my ears, but with a cadence I couldn’t ignore.

“The human representative approaches, Your Majesty,” Derwan announced from the tent entrance.

About fucking time. I straightened, adopting the bored expression I’d perfected over years of court politics.

Two Khadian guards stepped through, followed by a human woman.

The thumping sound exploded in my ears.

“King Lairos of the Delovia Ridge,” Derwan intoned, “may I present Emme Mathis, diplomatic envoy of the USS Legacy.”

She was small by our standards, with pale skin and hair the color of bleached coral cut in a severe line at her jaw. Her form-fitting uniform hugged curves that made my mouth go dry. Gray eyes scanned the tent, assessing everything in one sweep.

Beautiful, yes, but females of all forms could be beautiful. This was something else. Something that made my gills itch beneath my skin, that made the scales along my spine shiver with awareness.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. There was only her. Only us.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Her heartbeat. Her fucking heartbeat sang its soul song for me.

A mate—mymate—here, now, in human form? The universe had a twisted sense of humor. Khadians spent lifetimes searching for the one whose soul song resonated with their own. Some never found their match, but those who did formed bonds deeper than the ocean trenches. They shared every triumph, every fear, every secret thrill as if they were their own.

And mine turned out to be this alien diplomat with no gills, no scales, and half of Sanos and my own court screaming for her kind to be cast back into the stars.

She blinked, breaking the spell. Her gaze darted around the tent, confusion clear on her face. “I... I’m sorry, I thought this was meant to be a group meeting? With all the rulers?”

I forced a lazy grin, hiding my shock. Her voice. By the depths, even her voice was intoxicating. “We’ve arranged tomeet you one at a time. Less chance of us killing each other that way.”

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