Page 38 of Crown Prince's Mate

Doman’s nostrils flare, and my heart pounds as he tastes my scent. His battle-brothers are alarmed, unable to hide their emotions, and they move to get up, but Doman raises his fist, stopping them as his eyes roll back and he exults in my being.

His muscles tense, the toga of his species showing half his chest, the hard, rippling muscles flexing, every line of his abs sharp, his entire body taut as he forces his eyes to focus, forcinghis gaze on me. His lips curl back, showing his bright white teeth, and his toga tents forward as his huge, alien cock stiffens and throbs in a heartbeat, becoming steel. The pure white robes darken as his cock pumps Aurelian pre-cum, the pearly seed designed so that the enormous alien warrior species can force their enormous manhoods into tight little human slits. I step back, in horror, in shock, but there is another emotion surging up in me.

This deep, feverish frisson of need floods my body.

I ache for the alien prince in a way that terrifies me, heat flushing between my legs as my body reacts uncontrollably. I’m soaking wet, and when he next inhales, he tastes my naked lust. The smile of triumph on his face is a mockery as he steps closer.

I walk back, step after step, the huge alien beast hunting me, his eyes watching me too intensely, focused on my every move for when I may try to bolt. My back hits the heavy doors, and he boxes me in, this massive wall of muscle and ravenous need. His body is inflamed for me, the mating rage overwhelming him, his robes soaked from his cock pumping endlessly, standing straight up in front of him. There are only a few thin layers of cloth between me and thatthing.

Doman’s breathing is a heavy pant as he towers over me, and I press against the wall. He reaches his huge hand forward, his fingers gently stroking under my chin, exulting in touching me, and he forces me to look up, pressing my gaze upwards with his fingers. I meet that ravenous gaze and I quiver. His tongue runs over his lips, and his cock is tented straight out, huge and hungry, with a mind of its own, a mind that wants one thing.

To ruin me. To stretch me open, to bind me to him for eternity, to make me fit only for his bed.

His nostrils flare, and his eyes roll, but he gets control of himself, barely, meeting my gaze, every muscle in his body tensed to the limit, the veins in his massive bicep bulging. Hesteps in closer, and the head of his cock is so close to touching me, pressing out from his robes, and I smell his seed, his sweaty musk, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes past my lips.

“The need… it hurts, Adriana. Every… instinct in my body… tells me to rip your clothes off, to take what ismine,” he growls, the words strange on his lips as he growls, as if he’s losing even the ability to speak. “But I can control it,” he snarls. He puts his hand against the wall above me, pinning me in, so that my entire world is the Aurelian titan who towers over me, my head barely at his belly button, so I’m staring straight at his inflamed member, and my mouth waters, the scent of his pre-cum making me crave him.

My own body is on fire. My nipples are hard, desperate buds, aching for his violent touch. I feel so empty, so needy, my pussy tingling, aching agonizingly for the beast. The lust is torture. I want to throw everything away, to give in, to melt under his dominance. I want to feel my mind go blank, to lose all my tension, all my stress, the weight of worlds on my shoulders disappearing as he claims me.

I want to lose my mind in the submission to the beast.

“Doman, please, put the ring back on,” I gasp, begging, because I cannot stand another moment, because I know I’m about to snap, to give in completely, and I don’t know who I will be after the Aurelian triad has ruined me.

His lips curl back in a smirk of triumph. He withstood the Mating Rage, while I could not. He forces the ring on his finger, panting, his breath slowing, but his cock still stands straight in front of him, hard as rock.

His bright blue eyes focus as he steps back, giving me room to breathe. “I am not a beast, Adriana. I am only what I need to be. I will bring peace to the universe, peace that can only be won through blood.” He’s regaining his ability to speak, his words crisp and clear, ringing out like hammer blows.

Thankfully, blessedly, his cock slowly softens, the obscene rod tenting his robes slowly lowering.

The shame roils up in me, the complete and utter humiliation of having my naked need drunk by the Aurelian Prince making my cheeks flush. He sniffs, smelling my emotions, and his smile fades.

“Do not be ashamed, Adriana. You are our Fated Mate. It is natural for you to be a bitch in heat for me. Stop hating your true self and accept it. It will not make you less. When you beg me to claim you, you’ll become more powerful than you ever could have imagined.”

My mouth widens in shock. “I will never beg you.”

“You will. The more you suppress what you need, the more it grows. Do not let it consume you, Adriana.”

I smooth my uniform, getting a hold of myself, when my smart-watch blinks, urgent red. He glances down at it in curiosity.

“Your spy network is very good. We got the news only moments before.” His voice still has the low, growly edge to it, but he’s regained control over himself. “Shall you go back to your ship to get whatever incomplete report your network has, or would you like the truth, from us?”

“The truth. If you will share it.”

“You will be our Princess, Adriana. It is best you see the universe for exactly what it is.” He turns, striding back towards his thrones, but stops, waving his hand, and the tapestry of stars appears once more.

He goes from a brutal, savage beast filled with the urge to rut me to a general in a flash, his moods quicksilver, his control over himself making me look at him with new respect. His back is to me, but the toga only covers half of him, and I see the huge trap muscle, the broadness of his back, the width of him. It is not justthat he is eight feet tall. He’s broader than humans, his entire body covered in corded muscle.

He could hold me down with a single finger, controlling me as easily as he controls his own moods.

I stand beside him, facing the other two of his triad through the maps, as he flicks his finger, pointing to a planet, which grows bigger in the display. I see the ruins of a huge factory.

“Obsidian struck. Four different targets, in quick succession, destroying four of our most valuable Mark-10 production plants.”

“Four? In what timeframe?” My voice is like a stranger’s. A strategic question, asked by my lips, but I am wearing the mask I put on when I became Prime Minister. Cold, aloof, distant, managing a thousand moving parts.

“Less than an hour.”

“Impossible. What game are you playing with me?” And with that, it’s no longer a mask, sinking back into the constant push and pull of democracy. The Aurelians can switch moods like lightning, going from inflamed with Mating Rage to discussing strategy in a blink. They have no shame in their sexuality, no self-consciousness in immodesty.

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