Page 3 of Crown Prince's Mate

All my thoughts get jumbled as I look out at the huge beast of an Aurelian.

Over eight feet tall, bigger and broader than the others of his kind. Doman was born of the Bond, and he’s even more dangerous than the marble-skinned titans of the warrior species that rule the greatest expanse of territories in the known universe. The golden crown rests on his mane of long, blond hair, and he is clad in a white toga, split to show the left side of his body. As he rotates, my mouth gets dry. The immense physique of the alien warrior is muscled beyond belief. His skin is like marble, every line of his body speaking to violence, as if he was chiseled by a sculptor designing a god of the hunt.

No sculptor could capture the cocky, arrogant smirk ever present on his lips. His eyes are the brightest blue I’ve ever seen, so different from the slate-gray eyes of his battle-brothers, who were not born of the Queen but of the cryo-chambers. Their eyes will only be inked with color if they find the one woman in the universe they could be Bonded to and complete their triad. Those two are still tall, over seven foot each, but they pale next to the imposing Prince.

Doman is a great commander, fighting back against the Fanatics who push into his territories, led by the War-God himself, Obsidian. Only Doman could stand up to that brutal beast’s might.

So many desperate humans see him as a symbol of hope, of protection.

Planet upon human planet has submitted to him, without him needing to lift his sword. His presence exudes strength, and proud, Independent planets who threw off the yoke of the Aurelian Empire have bowed to him, flocking to his protection.

He is the emblem of everything I hate. Everything Pentaris stands against. He is an Aurelian, the alien species who views humanity as playthings and toys, weak and scared in the vast chaos of the universe and unable to protect themselves. I hate seeing formerly Independent planets bow to his rule, and thoughI cannot stop the free travel of my own citizens, it rankles me that even in the safety of Pentaris, some young women throw away their freedom, traveling towards Colossus to join the huge harems of the alien warriors. The aliens not at war sit in their estates, drinking wine, attended to by human women who throw away their own agency and dignity, submitting to the strength and protection of the brutal triads.

That, I will never understand. Instead of forging your own path, you chose being clad in a pleasure dress, serving the titans as just one woman among dozens, taken into their pleasure rooms to sate their endless needs. They parade their harem wenches proudly, walking them naked through their marble streets, leashed and displayed, and somehow, the fact that each woman can leave the harems any time they choose and instead decide to debase themselves into pleasure toys makes me all the angrier.

The all-male species live centuries, and humans are replaceable to them…

Unless you are their Fated Mate.

It’s not my hatred for the arrogant warrior prince that makes my stomach churn when I see him.

It’s that over a year ago, when I was one of the twelves Administrators serving under Prime Minister Stern, I saw a vision, as real as life itself. I had hoped I had gone insane, but reports of other visions spread out through the universe like wildfire. In some dark ritual, the Fanatics who split off from the Aurelian Empire made the Bondthrum,showing every Aurelian alive the one woman in the universe who they believe belong to them.

I saw Doman and his triad.

I was in the shower, when suddenly I wasn’t. I was somewhere else, somewhere between worlds, and the only thing that existed was the brutal beast in front of me. He was shirtless,training with his sword against his battle-brothers, but they all stopped at once. I could smell the stink of them, the beastly musk of the primal creatures as they stared at me, eyes open in wonder, and Doman’s imperious, bright blue eyes pierced my soul. He was in workout clothes, black sweatpants, his muscled perfection dripping with sweat, and his nostrils flared.

My cheeks flushed. I was naked and exposed in front of the royal triad, and the sizzle of urgent need that shot through me made me feel the most intense shame of my life, that his triad’s strength could force out the reaction in me, and I stepped back, but my legs wouldn’t move.

Aurelians can taste your emotions. He tasted my hatred, and his cock stirred, huge and heavy in his pants, growing as he stepped towards me, his gaze fixed on me before he dissipated into nothing, and I was left, confused and shook in my shower, rubbing my eyes and trying to tell myself it was only a dream.

The way he looked at me with those burning blue eyes told me everything I needed to know.

He believes I am his.

I’ve been waiting for him to come every day since, this inevitable, torturous knowledge that one day, I will be face to face with the prince and his battle-brothers.

I never told anyone of the vision. Not even when I had confirmed that it was no dream, no mere imagination.

The only thing the five planets fully agree on is that the Aurelians should stay far away from us. That the only thing that can threaten our Independence is those marble-skinned titans crushing us underfoot and binding us to them for eternity.

It gnawed at me, filling me with guilt. I should have resigned my position as Administrator, because if anyone found out, I’d be ruined.

When Stern stepped down, and I was elected, it was my last chance to come clean. I could have shirked the burden ofresponsibility, just like the other eleven Administrators, none of them wanting the position as the wars raged at our borders. Even the greatest ambitions are tempered by Obsidian’s armies at the gates.

When I looked at my fellows, I saw no one willing to lead.

I was voted to be the new Prime Minister, even as my secret ate me up inside.

To the people spread out in front of me, I am a leader who has navigated well for over a year, managing resources, minimizing losses and keeping the warring forces at bay.

To Prince Doman, I would be nothing but a broodmare.

He sees me as his Bonded, submissive Mate, the one woman in the universe who can bear his and his triad’s sons. And if he gets his hands on me, he will link me to him for eternity, extending my lifespan to centuries, and he will keep me pregnant and under his thumb, breeding me endlessly as his insatiable mating rage drives him into me over and over again.

I shiver as I try to push it down, the raging torrent of emotions that threatens my decisions, because I know the only logical course forward, and I know that I will be damned.

“Our spies in the Aurelian Empire have warned us of troop movements. A fleet, moving towards our territories. This is no training run. They are led by Prince Doman himself.”

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