Page 153 of Crown Prince's Mate

The Bond latches to that craving. I understand, too late, what Gallien warned me of the Bond making a feeling a thousand times more intense.

I’ve never known a craving, a longing so overpowering. I feel like I’m underwater, desperate for a gasp of air, lungs burning, but every inch of me is on fire.

And it’s not air I’m craving.

It’s being bred by the alien alpha.

I need it. I need Doman to lose control, to unleash inside me, to fill me with every ounce of his alien seed.

It’s the most exquisite torture I’ve ever felt, laying back helpless as he claims me, every sensation heightened as I ache for him to finish so deep inside of me. Each thrust, I know he’s getting closer, his growls sending shivers through me.

Doman’s huge hands slide down my back and cup my ass, pulling me up to meet his violent thrusts as he roars, his cock stiffening impossibly hard, pulsing and growing. His huge, swollen balls are pressed against my ass as he holds his cock fully inside me. Doman’s battle cry is deafening as he unleashes hot jets of alien cum, and I feel each spurt. It’s endless, and the pressure grows inside me as wave after wave of his hot, creamy seed fills me.

The Bond rewards me for taking the alpha’s seed. Pure bliss, so deep that the only thing keeping me to sanity is Doman’s firm grip against my skin, anchoring me to the moment. Finally, he groans in satisfaction, leaning up, and I stare into his eyes.

They’ve changed. The brilliant, icy blue irises have become like blue diamonds, brilliant and hard. I have only a moment to stare into his eyes, feeling his being in my mind, when Titus snarls, pushing at his leader. Doman pulls out, and before his seed can slip out of my stretched slit, Titus grabs me and flips me, forcing me onto all fours.

I arch my ass up instinctively for the brute, and before Doman’s seed can drip from me, Titus has driven himself deep into me. He’s even thicker, stretching me anew, and I moan in pleasure and pain. The ache of being stretched to the limit isn’t dulled by the Bond, but enhanced and molded into this dark, torturous pleasure that I both crave and can barely handle, and I whimper as he grips my hips firmly and pulls me back, forcing me to meet each jackhammer thrust.

He's rough, but his aura grows in my mind, a steel orb of strength and power that has seen a thousand battles and will see a thousand more. I was expecting his violence, his anger, his hate. I wasn’t expecting the rush of love and adoration mixed in with the insatiable need.

He’s starving for me, sating himself as he ravages me, his huge, thick alien cock impaling me as I present myself to him, arching my ass up as he grips my hips and pulls me back to meet every thrust. My orgasm rushes up, and the pressure is intense, my mind melting as I let myself go limp, simply surrendering to Titus’ might as he seeds me, jet after jet of his hot, alien cum mixing with Doman’s, the battle-brothers binding their Mate to them in the ritual that is still not yet over.

Titus pants in exertion, slowly pulling his softening cock from me, and I feel empty, so empty, craving the third. I turn my head, looking back at him, and I gasp at his eyes.

Like twin amethyst, so dark that the purple blue is nearly black, complementing his jet-black hair.

He looks complete.

I run my hands to my temples, in wonder, feeling the twin auras of the men I know I should hate. Up until this moment, I didn’t realize just how alone I was. You can talk with others, communicate, know them your entire life, but you’ll never truly know them.

I know Doman, and I know Titus. Hard. That’s the only way I can describe them. Hard, forged by centuries of bloodshed, unfathomable horrors conquered, trials that never stained their soul. There is a purity that washes over me, a purity and justice that I can’t square up with their deceptions.

Thoughts become difficult when I look up at Gallien. Doman and Titus’ seed drips from me, a pearly stream that dampens the bed as Gallien stares down at me with his intense grey eyes, his nostrils flaring as he tastes my scent, needing me yet holding himself back.

His battle-brothers look at me with worship. Doman runs his hands through his sweaty hair, and he closes his eyes, his lips curling up in a smile. Just as I can feel him in my mind, he exults in the connection to his Mate.

He has waited centuries for it.

Gallien lays himself down heavily on the huge bed, back to the wall, leaning back and watching me as my legs shake. The coldest of the three, the most inhuman.

I know how much he craves me. How much he’s starving to drive his cock deep into me. Those twin auras of his battle-brothers were filled with ravenous hunger until the moment they unleashed.

The hunger is consuming him, and the only relief will be when he breeds me. Gallien is lost to the Mating Rage, every muscle in his body taut to the limit, his chiseled abs flexed, a slight tightening around his alien grey eyes. His breathing is heavy, his lips curl back, but he does not lose control. A bead of sweat drips from his forehead, slowly down his cheek, tracing a line down his neck.

The waves of lust rush through me, the emptiness, the sweet soreness mixed with the need to complete the ritual. I give myself over to the luxury of thoughtlessness. I let my body take control, instinct taking over.

Pushing my hair from my eyes, I crawl to him, and mount him, squatting on top of him with my hands against his abs. I stare straight into his eyes as I press down slowly, moaning as I impale myself on his curved cock. It grinds against my G-spot with every tiny movement, pressing against me, and I gasp as his eyes slowly change.

As I drive him into me, whimpering as he claims me, his eyes deepen, glowing with an inner sheen as they become platinum. He leans forward, to kiss me, but I push my hand against his chest, pressing him back. I might as well be pushing a brick wall, but he accepts it, leaning back against the bed as I ride him.

Thoughts creep in, spoiling my mindless escape. I try to give in to the Bond, to let it consume me in animalistic pleasure, but it stays out of reach, like details of a dream I can’t remember. Gallien is the intellectual, the one who thinks up plans, convincing his triad. He orchestrated this. He convinced Doman and Titus to shut me out, that the only way to end this war was to use Fay as leverage to force Obsidian into the arena against them.

The surge of hatred fills me as I ride him faster, raking my hands down his chest, staring into his platinum eyes where I have marked him for eternity. I feel his aura growing and growing in my mind, this sharp, endless intelligence, centuries of plotting and planning, a being that torments me because I love him, I love him just as much as I hate him.

I can’t. I can’t be filled with these torturous thoughts. I need the mindless lust of the Bond to consume me.

I slam my ass down against him, driving his curved cock painfully deep into me, and I force myself to imagine him spurting inside me, filling me with his seed, my breasts swelling and growing laden with milk, three times their size as my body changes for his alien son.

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