Page 140 of Crown Prince's Mate

Doman leans back in his chair. He barely touched his food. His eyes are cold, glowing with alien light, and his golden mane gives him the air of a lion, but not of a noble, proud one reigning over its savannah...

He looks hungry. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a tension in his set jaw.

“So you’re using the legal system to suppress your political opponents. Keeping hold of power in times of crises. For one who claims to love democracy, you seem to be realizing the folly of letting civilians hold power in times of war.”

I meet those intense eyes. “Why are you fucking with me? The day before our wedding, and you want to argue? They’re all at risk, and they all deserve a vote. This latest legal challenge is nothing but a sham. They’re claiming that by joining the royal family of your Empire, it rules me out.”

“And did they deserve to know the truth before they voted for you? That you’re our Fated Mate?”

“No one else wanted to step up. I did what I had to do to keep Pentaris safe. Where’s this coming from?” He’s prickly, unsettled, sitting too erect, his back straight like he’s being held up by wires.

“This wedding is another sham. Nothing but a formality while I wear this,” he snarls, twisting at the blue-black Orb-Ring on his finger. It’s on so tight it barely budges.

“So that’s what’s got you prickly? You thought we’d be Bonded before the wedding? Youknewthat was never going to happen. This wedding is your public sacrifice. The crown prince himself, willing to waste his time with an un-Bonded woman while his Mate is in danger, just like what every one of your soldiers is going through.”

“And after the wedding? Have you made your decision yet, or will you make me wear this ring until you’re old and grey? What is it about us you find so offensive? You’ve felt our minds. You know we would do anything for you.”

I look up and down the regal firstborn son of an Emperor, the man who will one day lead the entire Aurelian kingdom. Even sitting, he’s massive, well over eight foot of pure strength, his combat robes open arrogantly to show off his thick slabs of muscles, the ridges of his abs, the power of his being. He’s impossibly handsome, eyes burning bright blue, eyes that once were filled with adoration now exuding insult and scorn.

I felt his dominance. Just once. Fucking him and his triad is nothing compared to that instant that felt like a lifetime, when the Bondthrummedand I was shaken by the power of his being rushing through me. The pure ownership, as if I was already his, that he feels right now.

There could be no greater pain to an Aurelian than to find his Mate and be rejected. And now, with Obsidian prowling ever closer, the tension is boiling up.

I run my hand over the wooden table, trying to find the right words. All my diplomatic experience seems useless in the fate of a scorned beast.

“I’m not the same person I was before I met you. I don’t believe I can govern effectively if I’m Bonded. I’ve got a hundredbillion souls to take care of. If I wanted to wait until after my term, could you accept that?”

Titus and Gallien, sitting silently at his side, stiffen, unable to control their emotions. It’s as if I slapped them one by one. They know a term is a full decade, and though that is nothing to the alien species, I know how painful each second un-Bonded is. If those rings were not dulling their senses, they would have snapped already, mad with the Mating Rage and reduced to nothing more than base beasts.

Doman’s lips curl back in a sneer. It twists his handsome face. “You would find it difficult to govern. But you would find it natural to rule.”

The chair grates against the stone floor as I push back away from him, as if his words are fire.

“That’s not what I want. Careful what you say, Doman.”

He cocks his head sideways, tracking me like a bird of prey. “How many of your people have been taken by Toads when they dare to leave your borders? How many humans in Wild Space, just beyond your reach, have died to Scorp because they didn’t have the luck of birth to be one of your citizens? Pentaris is a force for good. Expand it. When we’ve killed Obsidian, my parents will still rule on Colossus. But we can forge new territories. New kingdoms, that will be ours, and ours alone. Governed by the principles of Pentaris, and the strength of my sword.”

“That vision leaves no room for the principles of Pentaris.”

“And what use are principles, in a Toad slave auction? On a space station where every man, woman and child is ripped to shreds by Scorp? I served my hundred years. I’ve seen these things. You’re a natural leader, Adriana. You say you’re responsible for a hundred billion souls. Why, because they voted for you? You’re wrong. You’re responsible for everyone you can save.”

His words have a hypnotic intensity to them, like he’s speaking to my soul. I sit, mute, as they flow over me. “Did the scared slave captured just outside your border not choose you? She prayed to the Gods, but she was praying to us, praying for anyone strong enough to save her. Pentaris is a force of order in the chaos. Expand it. The fates Bonded us for a reason.”

“You’re scaring me.” My words are barely more than a whisper. He’s speaking of conquest and war, of mobilizing the ships of Frosthold not just for defense, but to pierce into Wild Space and Toad territory. Turning the visions of Etherion from a defensive necessity and using them to outflank our enemies. The factories of Magnar, producing missiles day and night in the warm glow of magma flows.

He breathes in deeply, his blue eyes fixed on me. His battle-brothers stare with the same intensity, as if seeing me for the first time. “I’m not scaring you. You’re scaring yourself. You’re scared of what you could be. What you’re capable of.” He slowly reaches down, resting his fingers down against the ring.

“Careful, Doman.”

“I need to remind myself what I’m fighting for.”

His battle-brothers stand silently behind him, like rocky craigs weathered by storms. Titus’ glimmering chain seems to dance as it reflects the light, and the two of them have the same stony, unreadable expression.

“Why torture yourself?”

Doman’s smile doesn’t touch his hungry eyes. “Being tortured by you is exquisite.” He reaches down and slowly twists the ring off. He licks his lips, teasing himself, delaying the pleasure of tasting his Mate. My heart quickens, and I imagine Titus and Gallien unable to hold him back as he transforms into the brute beast that lurks inside him, or them throwing off their rings as well, forgetting everything in their drive to claim me and finally link me to them.

The ring makes no sound as he drops it against the wood of the table. Doman breathes in, slowly, luxuriously, his nostrils flaring. His smile grows as he tastes me, then his lips draw back, his teeth glistening like fangs. He closes his eyes, luxuriating in me, then his heavy lids flash open, revealing brilliant blue eyes ravenous for me. He lurches to his feet, and Gallien and Titus grunt as they fight to hold him down as he loses himself to the Mating Rage. His plate flies, glasses tumble, spilling coffee, and Titus growls, forcing the ring back on his leader’s finger.

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