Page 31 of Crown Prince's Mate

But they are not humans.

Titus’s slate-gray eyes bore through me, hungry and hot, and I know what he is thinking of.

Because when they step over the magma flow, they will push the veil aside, and one by one, they will kiss me. Before the entire universe, they will show the trillions watching that I belong to them. They have believed it since they saw me in a vision, and all three of them believe that we are fated to be together, that no matter how much I despise them, that one day, I will look up at them with love, that I will surrender to their brutal might, that I will give every part of myself to them.

Not just my body but my mind.

Because these three would Bond me to them. They would conquer every part of my soul, every thread of my being, turning me into their possession.

It’s an impossibility.

The Magnarian with the atmospheric shield unclasps it from his back and places the humming device on the ground behind me, getting out of the scene.

“Thrain of Magnar,” states Prince Doman in his deep, booming voice. “Thank you for welcoming us to your planet.”

“Welcome, Crown Prince Doman, Prince Titus, Prince Gallien.”

Doman turns his attention to me, his gaze traveling over my form, and a chill races down my spine as he revels in the way the silver threads of the dress cling to every curve of my body, so different from his own hard lines. I am glad for the veil, because my cheeks flush red with indignation and shame.

He’s seen me naked. During the Bondthrumthat granted us each a vision of the other, I was in the shower, and he knows every part of me, the shape of my nipples, every curve and line of my body, even the tuft of thick hair above my pussy that I’ve shaved ever since, a private rebellion against him, so that I am not exactly how he saw me.

I’m used to wearing shapeless, formless gray uniforms. The silver dress has a femininity to it, and a strength, the heart of Magnar.

“As per the ritual of Magnar, the bride-to-be may state her objections,” says Thrain, looking over at me. There’s a tension in his voice. The Magnarian filming this aims his smart-watch straight at me.

“I have none,” I say, looking over at Prince Doman. His brows furrow, ever so slightly, and he steps forward, towards the thin magma flow, when I raise my hand.

“But as per the rights of Magnar, I may choose the flow which you must traverse.”

There’s dead silence, the only sound the pop of the magma flow as fire sprays. Doman tenses, but he doesn’t break eye contact with me, even as his battle-brothers step in closer.

“Shut off that fucking camera!” barks out Thrain, stomping towards the Magnarian recording.

“Keep them on,” says Doman. “We will show the universe this union.”

The Magnarian is sweating hard, looking from Thrain to Doman, uncertain who to obey. He bites his lip and keeps the feed going, pointing the smart-watch towards us.

I can picture Thrain’s grimace under his helmet. He turns to me, and I know he’s biting back curses, trying to keep his composure on the grand stage, every word broadcasted to an audience of trillions.

“Prime… Minister Adriana. This has been the site of our… betrothal union for thousands of years. I would ask you… respect our customs.” His voice is tense, polite, but every pause as he spoke was him fighting back vulgarities.

“I respect your customs, and your histories. It is still enshrined in your laws that a woman may choose the magma flow that her suitor must cross. I choose Heartbreak River.”

There’s a hissed gasp from the Magnarian recording.

“Take us there,” orders Prince Doman without hesitation to the Magnarians on his side of the magma flow. One considering glance at me, and he follows them down a tunnel. Thrain waves away the Magnarian recording, who takes a step back, and he himself grunts as he lifts the humming device that gives off the atmospheric shield, hefting it. I walk with Thrain down another tunnel. When we’re out of earshot, turning a corner in the smooth, bored tunnel, he turns to me.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I will not have the fucking crown prince of the fucking Aurelian Empire humiliated on my planet. Heartbreak River? You know why it was named that?”

“I am aware of your histories, Thrain.”

“You’re bloody insane.”

“The flow is forty-one feet, three inches. He will see it, and he will not jump. Don’t fear, Thrain. This is why I made him agree that only our side of the negotiations were reliant on the betrothal ceremonies. He will still be bound, by his word of honor. You’ll get all the mining machines you asked for, and your legacy will be secure. And I’ll be free.”

The black vision plate on his helmet stares up at me, and I can practically feel his glare. “A word of honor you’ve scorned with trickery. You think Doman is a fool? His lawyers signed off on the final agreement while you were sulking in your room. Ancient buggers. Some of them might have been a thousand fucking years old, and they’ve been studying interplanetary law since they were ten. You think there’s no way for them to wriggle out of this?”

“Watch your tone, Thrain.”

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