Page 55 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
CHAPTER 44
ZEVRAN
Icarry Carys through the halls, her weight surprisingly light in my arms. The petals rain down like a cascade of stars, vibrant colors contrasting against the warm amber light of the palace. Cheers erupt around us, echoing off the walls, voices rising in celebration.
“Zevran! Carys!” They chant our names, and each call sends a ripple of pride through me. My people have embraced her—not just as a guest or an outsider, but as one of their own. It hasn’t been easy to bridge that divide; doubt lingered long after our bond was revealed. Yet here we are, basking in their joy.
As we reach the private wing of the palace, I push open the door to our chambers and step inside. The air feels charged with intimacy. I lay her gently on the bed, still wrapped in the delicate silk from our ceremony. The fabric shimmers under the soft light, accentuating every curve.
“Your father—” she starts.
“—will never be me.” I cut her off before doubt can settle between us like a shadow.
Carys studies my face; I see the questions swirling in her eyes. She knows about my father—the man who ruled with an iron fist and bred fear among his people. Queen Sirellae hadshared those stories with her during late-night discussions when they found solace in each other's company while I dealt with court affairs. Whispers linger that she may have even killed him to seize power for herself.
But that’s not me. I refuse to follow his path, driven by cruelty and ambition without regard for those he governed. My gaze drifts to Carys’s collarbone, where soft skin meets delicate lines of marking—a reminder of who she is and what we share now.
I lean down and kiss her collarbone gently, savoring the taste of her warmth against my lips. “I’ll worship the ground you walk on,” I whisper against her skin.
She exhales softly, tension easing from her body as my words hang between us like a promise made tangible. In this moment—just us—I feel everything shift again, reshaping not just our lives but perhaps all of Verus itself. Together we will forge a new path, away from shadows and into light.
My hands slide up the silk clinging to her thighs, the textured ridges of my fingertips catching on the fabric. She arches into my touch, breath hitching as I bunch the gown at her waist. Her scent hits me first—earth and salt and something sharply alive, cutting through the floral oils still slick on her skin from the ceremony.
“Should’ve made you wear less cloth at the altar.” I press my mouth to the damp lace between her legs, biting gently through the barrier.
Her hips jerk. “You said worry about tradition now, strip me lat—fuck?—”
The lace rips clean under my claws.
“Tradition’s over.”
Her laughter dies as my tongue finds her. She tastes like lightning—like the first storm after drought. My grip tightens on her hips as her fingers twist in my hair, yanking hard enough tosting. “You tear another pair of my underwear and I’ll charge it to the royal treasury,” she pants.
I grin against her. “Add it to the list.”
Her thighs clamp around my ears as she comes with a broken shout, nails scoring my scalp. I don’t let up until she kicks weakly at my shoulder. “Zevran—wait—I need?—”
“Say it.” I rise, wiping my mouth. Oh, that stare—she hates how much she loves this.
She grabs the sash of my ceremonial robe, jerking me close. “I need your cock,” she hisses. Savage little liar. She always goes polite when she’s desperate.
“Oh really?”
Her teeth sink into my lower lip. “Don’t make me murder a king on his wedding night.”
I shove her flat, pinning her wrists. Her pulse thrums against my thumbs. “Never thought I’d enjoy being threatened in bed.”
“Bet your exes were too busy swooning to?—”
I sink into her with one brutal thrust. Her back bows, cursed words dissolving into a gasp. “Careful, my Queen.” I nip her earlobe, rolling my hips slow. “Jealousy’s a terrible color on you.”
She rakes her nails down my spine. “Faster. Or I’ll find someone who?—”
I slam her knees to her chest, choking her taunt with a groan. The bed’s woven canopy rattles as we fuck—a savage counterpoint to the gentle chimes drifting through the open balcony. She comes twice more before I let myself spill, her teeth buried in my shoulder to muffle the sound.
Collapsing sideways, I drag her onto my chest. Her fingers trace the fresh bite mark. “Petty,” I mutter.
She kisses the broken skin. “You started it with the lacy panties.”
