Page 8 of Taken By the Alien Siren King

His casual mention of attempts on his life shouldn’t have surprised me. Not after what I’d seen him do to those guards. “Ah, so this was just another day for the King of Delovia Ridge.”

He laughed as he poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks spiraling into the darkening sky. “You’d be surprised how many have tried. Not even my most discreet indiscretions know of this place.”

He excused himself and returned to the fire wearing a fresh wrap kilt a few moments later. I watched the firelight play across his features, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and jaw. Of course he’d have lovers—indiscretions, as he called them. He was a king. Powerful. Undeniably attractive, if you were into the whole arrogant, deadly predator thing.

Which I wasn’t. Obviously.

Still, there was a prick of pride knowing he’d brought me to this place he kept hidden from them. Even if it was out of necessity rather than choice. Just like the not-quite-kisses underwater had been about survival, not desire.

And if it came to it, I’d join him in that pallet bed if that was the price for the safety of the souls on the Legacy. I’d survived worse for less.

“What happened at the summit?” I asked, forcing my thoughts back to the mission. “Who attacked us?”

Lairos’s expression darkened. “I don’t know entirely. At first, I thought it was simply protestors who didn’t wish for humans ‘invading’ Sanos. But after our greeting at the drycave...”

“So not every entry requires acts of battle?” I confirmed dryly.

He glanced at me, surprise flickering across his face before he chuckled. “You have a sharp tongue, Emme Mathis. I like that.”

I shrugged, and again pushed back on that grating sense of pride. “I save it for special occasions. Like coup attempts and near-death experiences.”

Another chuckle lapsed into silence, the fire crackling between us. I shifted on the sand, the linen wrap pulling taut against my thighs. Lairos stared into the flames, his expression distant as if seeing something else entirely in their depths.

“They used to be nothing,” he said slowly, voice barely above a murmur. “Mistake to let them grow so bold.” He glanced at me, seeming to remember I had no context. “The Knights—Knights of the Depths—they call themselves. Preservers of Khadian traditions, and our personal greeters.” His mouth twisted. “When I was young, they’d lurk at the edges of court and offer unwanted guidance. Irritating, but contained.”

I glanced up. “What changed?”

“Time.” His mouth twisted. “Or rather, I failed to be the perfect prince they wanted. My interests were... varied.” The way he said it left little doubt about what kind of interests he meant. “After I was caught with a musician in my bed, my father sent me to the frontier to ‘learn discipline’.”

“And these Knights?”

“My father tolerated them. Encouraged them, even. By the time I returned to claim the throne, they’d embedded themselves in every aspect of court life.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching his long legs toward the fire. “They’ve been a thorn in my side ever since.”

I stared into the fire, trying to process what this meant for the mission. For the Legacy. For the thousands of humans still in cryosleep, waiting for a home that might not exist.

I’d jumped at the chance to join the Legacy mission, eager to put my skills to use where they might actually make a difference. Earth’s politicians had never listened to scientists, but maybe an alien species would. We’d been trained for every conceivable diplomatic scenario—cultural misunderstandings, resource disputes, even outright rejection. But a civil war to welcome our arrival? Not on the bingo card.

“Well, isn’t this just great,” I muttered, more to myself than him. “My crewmates are scattered, possibly dead. Our ship is vulnerable. And I’m stuck on some secret island with a king who might not even have a kingdom anymore.”

Lairos’s head snapped up, eyes flashing. “I apologize that a coup for my throne is such an inconvenience for you.”

“That’s not?—”

“No? Then what exactly do you expect me to do, Emme? Swim back to my palace and politely ask the Knights to stop trying to kill me long enough for me to help settle your humans?”

“I expect you to have a plan!” I snapped. “You’re a king, aren’t you? Don’t you have allies? Resources? Something other than a pretty beach hut and your righteous indignation?”

He stood in one fluid motion, towering over me. “Of course I have allies. But I need to know who I can trust before I reach out to them. One wrong move, and we both end up dead.”

“So, what’s your plan?” I pushed to my feet and met him glare for glare.

“My plan,” he said through gritted teeth, “is to stay alive long enough to rally my loyal forces. To take back what’s mine. To find out exactly who orchestrated this attack and make them pay for their treachery.”

“And where does that leave me and my people?” I demanded. “Do we just wait around until you’ve sorted out your problems?” I began pacing, unable to contain the nervous energy coursing through me. “Maybe I’d be better off with another leader. Or even these Knights you keep railing about.”

The change in him was instant and terrifying. One moment he was merely annoyed; the next, he was predatory stillness. “You think I’d just give you up?”

The deadly edge in his voice reminded me of how easily he’d killed those guards. How little remorse he’d shown afterward.

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