Blue Alien Prince's Obedient Mate

by Zara Zenia

  Blue Alien Prince's Obedient Mate

  A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Celestial Mates)

  Zara Zenia

  Illustrated by Natasha Snow

  Edited by Valorie Clifton

  Edited by Elizabeth A Lance

  Copyright © 2019 by Zara Zenia

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Natasha Snow Designs

  Edited by Valorie Clifton and Elizabeth A Lance

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the authors’ imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Contents

  VIP Reader Club

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  About Zara Zenia

  Also by Zara Zenia

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  Visit my site: www.zarazenia.com

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  Prologue

  “Well, that was delicious.” Bhatraz threw down his napkin in the middle of his plate and grinned at Draklan. “Too bad I ate the last of it.”

  “Yes, keep rubbing it in,” Draklan said, shaking his head at his older brother. As the youngest in the family, he was used to his older brothers taking the best shares of food. They were all Princes of Tamarax, and even though they were seated in the banquet hall with more than enough food for everyone, they still fought over the best bits.

  Draklan’s father, John, the king, rolled his eyes at their bickering. “Every night,” he said, grinning at them indulgently. “Every night. Do you boys think you could come up with a better comedy routine?”

  “In my defense,” Pralmav began. He was the middle child and usually attempted to keep to himself. “I haven’t said a word all evening.”

  “That’s because you’re boring,” Draklan teased Pralmav affectionately.

  “Boys.” Queen Joronna shook her head at the three of them. “Please behave.”

  “Mother,” Bhatraz replied, stretching his arm around his wife, Rabbina, “we are behaving. Besides, there’s no one else here. It’s just family.”

  Queen Joronna smiled at her husband as she continued to scold her children good-naturedly. “And perhaps the family will be bigger someday,” she said. “And then what kind of examples will you set?”

  Pralmav tilted his head in pretend shock, staring at his parents. “Mother, are you . . .”

  “No!” Joronna said, her cheeks turning pink at Pralmav’s teasing. “I meant the three of you. Well, not Draklan yet, I suppose, since he’s not yet married, but you and Milinna, or Bhatraz, you and Rabbina, maybe sometime soon?”

  Milinna, Pralmav’s new blushing bride, turned pink in embarrassment.

  “Come, Joronna,” their father said, patting their mother’s hand. “We can talk about grandchildren with them another time. Right now, we have other plans.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” their mother said. “You and Bhatraz have been planning this night for weeks.”

  “Someday, when you’re king,” their father said to Draklan’s oldest brother, “you must make sure to take a night off with your own sons and teach them everything that you’ve learned.”

  “Is that what we’re doing tonight, Father?” Bhatraz answered with a chuckle. “Learning everything you’ve ever learned in one night?”

  “We’ll save some it,” their father said, a twinkle in his eye. He turned to Draklan and Pralmav, smiling. “And next week, we’ll have you both join us.”

  “The spoils of being the crown prince,” Draklan said, teasing his oldest brother. “Getting to do everything first.”

  “I promise,” their father said, looking at Draklan and Pralmav again, “I have individual lessons for each of you, but, Bhatraz, we should hurry if we wish to get there before dark.”

  “Our transport is all arranged, Father,” Bhatraz said, standing up and giving Rabbina a kiss. “We’ll be late. Don’t wait up, my love.”

  “Do you have enough guards arranged to go with you?” Pralmav asked. “I know we aren’t at full capacity right now. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Father and I don’t want a huge guard unit with us, Pralmav,” Bhatraz said. “We want to try to blend in while we’re in town. A large unit of guards would defeat that purpose. Father and I will be fine.”

  “I’m just saying . . .” Pralmav said, looking worried.

  Father simply smiled at him. “I appreciate your concern, Son,” he said. “But Bhatraz is right. We’ll be fine.” He kissed Mother on the cheek, and then he and Bhatraz headed out.

  It wasn’t uncommon for the king or the crown prince to head into the city for a night of highest-class entertainment and fun, but it was highly unusual for them to go together. Like Pralmav, Draklan was a bit worried, but his father and Bhatraz were good fighters and he knew that his father valued his time with each of his sons, especially Bhatraz, who would take over the throne one day.

  “I think I’ll turn in early,” Pralmav said, standing up a moment later.

  Milinna looked up hopefully, but Pralmav didn’t really glance at her, just at their mother.

  “Unless there is anything else that needs to be done today?”

  “No, my dear son, there isn’t anything pressing right now,” Joronna said, smiling as she looked around the room. “I can’t remember the last time this palace was quiet.”

  “I can,” Draklan said, amused. “It was when all of you went to visit the planet Korr, remember? And I stayed home.”

  “I wish you’d come on that trip, Draklan,” his mother said. “The noble ladies there—”

  “Mother,” Draklan interrupted with a roll of his eyes, “I told you before, I’m not interested.”

  “But you haven’t even met them yet,” she said, sounding exasperated. “If you would just meet them—”

  “I think I’m also going to turn in early,” he interrupted, knowing she would never tire of trying to play matchmaker for him.

  “You can’t stay unmarried forever, Draklan,” his mother asserted.

  “Technically, I can,” Draklan smarted off as he left the room. He could hear his mother’s displeasure following him as he went. Draklan paused by the large glass window at the front of the palace, watching the sun begin to set over the faraway mountains. As he stood there, he felt an ominous feeling race over him, but with a sigh, he brushed it off as his mother’s displeasure at his not capitulating and finding a bride.

  He had his doubts that he would ever find a bride who loved hiking, nature, and outdoors as much as he did. As the third heir, he would be given an island kingdom to rule over, as he wished, so that he could spend as much time in nature as possible. His father hadn’t bee
n thrilled with his wishes, but he’d finally agreed.

  Draklan knew that as a royal prince, true love was probably not in the cards for him. So far, he hadn’t found anyone he was even remotely interested in, which did not bode well for his finding a compatible wife.

  Draklan continued on to his suite of rooms. With his father and brother gone for the evening, the palace was a little bit more peaceful instead of its usual working chaos. Draklan knew that the older his father got, the more chaotic the palace would get. Despite his unmarried state and his mother’s nagging, he was content with life as it was and didn’t wish for anything to change.

  Hearing his father talk about Bhatraz taking the throne soon reminded them all that mortality was real, even if their health care system was far superior to other planets’ in the universe. Draklan had found tonight’s dinner conversation uncomfortable. Knowing his father was making plans to share his knowledge with them all for the day that he wouldn’t be there sent chills down his spine.

  Picking up his book from earlier that day, Draklan settled down for the night, knowing that he should enjoy his time in the palace. When he inherited the island, he would rarely be back. He’d have his own lands to rule over and make decisions for with no one save his brother Bhatraz to report to. The thought made him smile.

  Draklan fell asleep a short while later, book still in hand.

  “Draklan! Wake up! Please!” Pralmav shouted, standing over him.

  Draklan groggily blinked his eyes. He looked to the window and noticed it was barely light out. “What, Pralmav? Why are you waking me before the sun has risen?”

  “It’s Father! You must come now!”

  Draklan didn’t know what to say. “What?” he asked, staring at his older brother. He had never seen Pralmav out of sorts before. His older brother was a rock, a pillar of strength. Today, however, as the early morning dawn crept into the room, he looked broken, lost. “What’s wrong with Father? Is he ill?”

  “Father’s been murdered! Draklan, you must come!” Tears slid down Pralmav’s cheeks.

  Draklan blinked up at him, his heart stuttering in his chest. It couldn’t be true. “No. No, it can’t be.”

  “I wish it to not be true, Draklan,” Pralmav sobbed, “but it is. Mother is in the parlor—”

  Draklan shook his head. He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his brother’s mouth. “I’m having a nightmare. This is a nightmare! Tell me I’m dreaming, Pralmav!”

  “Father’s dead,” Pralmav repeated softly, dropping to the edge of Draklan’s bed.

  “What? I don’t understand how that could have happened . . .” Draklan finally managed to form words that were coherent. “They took guards. Bhatraz was with him . . .”

  “There was an attack in the city, Draklan,” Pralmav said. “The guards were quickly overtaken. They didn’t take a great many with them.”

  Draklan felt a tightness in his chest, a pain so deep it stole his breath. “Was Bhatraz . . . is he . . . ?”

  “Bhatraz is fine,” Pralmav said with a frown. “Or rather, I should say that Bhatraz is uninjured. He did his best to defend himself and Father, but the attackers overpowered first the guards and then Father and Bhatraz. Bhatraz was just barely able to get away with one of the guards who was wounded.”

  “Who did it?” Draklan stood from the bed and demanded, “Who killed Father? Who—”

  “We don’t know!” Pralmav screamed at him, clearly losing his usual calm. “Bhatraz thinks it was a group from the North. The security team is going to investigate. You need to come down and help me with Mother and Bhatraz,” Pralmav said a bit more calmly.

  “Where is Bhatraz?” Draklan’s mind drifted back to their childhood, when Pralmav would protect him from even the simplest things. Night terrors and scary Apex insects, things that seemed threatening to a young child, Pralmav had always been there to explain them away in his logical scientific mind.

  “He’s in the throne room,” Pralmav replied, wiping his cheeks again. “He won’t go anywhere else.”

  Draklan pulled on a shirt and with a look at Pralmav, left the room and hurried into the hallway.

  They were barely in the hallway before the death music came through the palace’s alert system. It was low, slow notes of grief, deep and resonating. An automated announcement played.

  “From flowers we are made, and to flowers we become,” said the automated voice. “Rest in Peace, King John. The Kingdom of Tamarax is now ruled by Queen Joronna. Long live the queen.”

  The announcement made it all real for Draklan, and he dropped to his knees, filled with devastation. He’d only heard that announcement a few times before in the past, when his grandparents and then his uncle had passed away. He’d grieved then, but this was a million times worse. His father was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Pralmav put a hand on his shoulder, his face pale and his jaw screwed shut.

  “How could this happen?” Draklan asked softly, looking up at him. “How could this possibly . . .”

  “Everyone is mortal, Draklan,” Pralmav said, his voice rough and tight with his grief, “even Father.”

  Draklan nodded and rose. Together, they walked into the throne room. They’d just been in the throne room the morning before. Their father had stood there just twenty-four hours ago, grinning and laughing, looking elegant in his crown and royal robe.

  Now, as Draklan looked around, the throne room was dark, dawn barely breaking. Bhatraz sat on the steps to the throne, their mother weeping with her face in his lap. Bhatraz was covered in blood, looking completely lost and pale. He looked up when Draklan and Pralmav entered.

  “Are you all right?” Draklan asked, hurrying to his oldest brother’s side. Bhatraz had always been the best at everything. He was charming and charismatic, one of the best fighters in the palace too. Now he looked like half the man he used to be.

  Bhatraz’s eyes were flat and pained. “I couldn’t do anything,” he murmured, his voice a ghost of a whisper. “I tried. I . . . couldn’t . . . couldn’t do anything. Too many . . . I couldn’t—”

  “Stop it!” Their mother looked up, her face puffy and red as she slammed her palms against his chest. “He’s dead! You should have taken more guards!” She gasped, holding her chest now, her voice filled with the pain of losing her husband.

  “Mother.” Draklan tried to pull her from Bhatraz. “Mother, I’m sure Bhatraz did everything he possibly could. You know Father has always been proud of Bhatraz’s skill. He’s one of the best—”

  “But I didn’t!” Bhatraz suddenly roared.

  Draklan and Pralmav stared at him in shock. In all his years of life, Bhatraz was known for being calm and charismatic. He never yelled at anyone, never even raised his voice. Draklan, still gripping his mother, took a step back and pulled her up into his arms, looking at Bhatraz as if he was possessed by an alien from another planet.

  “I didn’t make him proud,” Bhatraz said, his voice broken as tears spilled down his cheeks. “He’s gone. He’s dead. And I didn’t . . .” Bhatraz shook his head, his hands going to his hair and pulling. “He’s gone!”

  “Where is Father?” Draklan asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Where is he now?”

  “The guards retrieved his body after the . . .” His mother’s voice broke and she pressed her face into Draklan’s chest. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we can see him yet . . .”

  Draklan had never seen his mother so broken. She had always been strong, determined, and able to get through any tragedy, but with this . . . he wasn’t sure she would recover. He couldn't believe that his father wasn’t going to walk in at any moment. Draklan looked at his father’s throne and realized he’d never sit there again. He’d never hear him laugh or speak again.

  Danger had finally gotten him.

  “What is the point?” Bhatraz wailed. “What is the point of seeing him when he can’t hear us?”

  “Bhatraz!” Draklan said, surp
rised that his brother would be so careless with his words.

  “You know it’s true. He’s gone. He’s gone!” Bhatraz seemed to be moving from grief to anger quickly.

  Draklan shared a look with Pralmav, hoping he could calm their brother down.

  “Bhatraz.” Pralmav attempted to calm him. Pralmav’s calm demeanor was close to shattering, and Draklan knew it was because Pralmav’s heart was breaking at the loss of their father. “He’s gone, Bhatraz. But it’s not your fault.”

  A sort of hush fell over the room, and all that could be heard were their mother’s sobs against Draklan’s chest.

  Bhatraz slowly turned to Pralmav. “He . . . wanted us to . . .” His lips trembled as he spoke.

  “I know,” Pralmav said, nodding. “I know. And we’ll honor his wishes, Bhatraz, all of us. We will rule this kingdom together. In his memory.”

  “We need to prepare him for burial,” Draklan said quietly.

  “I will take care of him,” Pralmav replied, his voice calm despite how Draklan knew he was feeling.

  The clattering of heels on the floor drew their attention as the two princesses burst into the room. Each of them looked horrified and full of grief. Rabbina threw herself against Bhatraz’s chest and began to weep. Bhatraz didn’t react, didn’t even wrap his arms around her. He just stood there, unmoving, his expression one of deep grief.