Alien Romance: The Alien's Captive Bride (Alien Protectors Book 6)

by Zena Zion

She was gifted her exceptionally long life thanks to the medicine and technology of the old world. And since she has stopped breeding she has been in decline. She will likely join the other Elders beneath the Great Oak within the next century or so."

  Jasmine sat back against the wall of flowers behind her, letting their perfumed scent engulf her, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Here she was, with maybe a couple of months to live, standing among a race that could live ten thousand years... How could she be anything to them but an insect? A brief flicker of life gone almost before it began?

  "Wait," she said, sitting up, "How old are you?"

  "A little beyond two-hundred."

  She sank back into the flowers again with a groan, putting her hand to her head. They couldn't know how unfair this was, how cruel, to taunt her with eternal life when she was so close to death. Tears stung the corners of her eyes and she struggled to fight them down.

  "Jasmine?"

  His voice was uncharacteristically small with worry, his handsome features folded with concern. She recognized the confused frustration in his eyes of being confronted with a problem he didn't know how to solve. He was wishing there was something he could punch to make everything better. She gave a tired chuckle and sat up, rubbing her eyes clear.

  "I'm fine," she said, "Let's go party. Does you species have alcohol?"

  As it turned out, they did, though it was a bit fruity for Jasmine's tastes, something like a cross between champagne and wine. It was deceptively strong, and Jasmine soon felt her anxieties vanishing in a happy golden haze as Gwydion taught her the traditional dances and, when he'd decided she was entirely hopeless at them, just stood her on his feet and swung her around the room rather like a weapon, the other guests leaving them plenty of room.

  Apparently, he wasn't that good of a dancer either. He was better conversation than she'd expected. They had a similar sense of humor, though their jokes didn't always translate well. They were similar in a lot of ways. In any other circumstance, Jasmine was certain they would have been great friends.

  At last, as they were rapidly becoming too drunk to walk, Gwydion pulled her down one of the green house's many hallways towards a smaller, secondary dome.

  "You're going to love this," he said, only slurring a little, "All the flowers in this dome are, um, bio, hm. Bio something. They glow."

  "You're glowing," Jasmine laughed, hanging on his arm, "You need some water, man."

  He said something flippant in his own language and waved her concern off. Jasmine only giggled harder, resting her head on his shoulder.

  "Whatever," she shrugged, a warm glow filling her, "I feel good for the first time in a while."

  He smiled down at her and put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her closer as they walked.

  "This should be it," he said as they reached the center of a dome. It hadn't been lit up for the party and there was no sign of any glowing flowers. The only light was that spilling through the glass of the dome from other, more well-lit places. In the dimness, Jasmine could only just make out mossy banks and hanging vines.

  "Maybe it was the other dome..." Gwydion mumbled, and Jasmine laughed, turning her face into his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair and she felt him sigh.

  She realized he was probably holding himself back for her sake after everything that had happened that morning. She ran her fingers over the front of his suit thoughtfully. She kept thinking about how old he was. Two hundred years, and he was still young. And she wasn't even going to have the little time she was supposed to.

  The thought made a lump rise in her throat and she fought it down. She had so little time. She should be enjoying it as much as she could while she had the chance!

  Why was she denying this gorgeous, kind, funny man, this literal prince, when he said he wanted her? She deserved a night with a hot alien prince after what was happening to her! She squeezed closer to him, gathering her courage.

  "Hey."

  When he looked down, Jasmine was staring up at him intently, somewhere between determination and insecurity.

  "Kiss me."

  He didn't need much more encouragement than that. He bent at once to press his lips to hers. It was as sweet as Jasmine remembered from their brief kiss that morning, and somehow more. She felt her stomach fill with butterflies at once and she pressed closer to him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces as his hand found the small of her back to hold her closer.

  It was perfect enough to almost make her believe in all this fate and destiny nonsense. She'd never felt a kiss like this, so intense, so in tune with exactly what she wanted.

  It was almost like he could read her mind. Every flicker of his tongue against hers, every graze of teeth against her lip, was exactly what she'd needed and more. His hand slid lower to squeeze her backside and she gasped into his mouth, arching into the contact.

  The butterflies in her stomach were all of a sudden a raging fire, a needy hunger for more. She reached up to grab him by the back of the head, tangling her fingers in his braids, and pulled him down against her harder. She felt the rumble of a low growl against her lips and it made her skin tingle with excitement.

  He caught her by the back of the thigh and together they fell into one of the mossy flower beds. Dimly, Jasmine noticed the moss lighting up with a thousand tiny white flowers, glowing like stars in the tangled web of soft, downy moss, but her attention was more than taken up at the moment by Gwydion's ravenous kisses, which drifted down her jaw to her throat and suddenly turned into sharp, sweet bites, his fangs pressing almost but not quite hard enough to pierce her skin, the pressure just enough to leave her moaning and pulling him tighter against her, needy for more.

  His hands roamed over her body, separated only by the fabric of her skin tight dress. His hands were gentle one moment, grazing over her skin, then rough the next, slipping below the low neckline of her dress to squeeze her breasts. She hooked her legs around his hips, grinding up against him impatiently. He shifted lower, but not for what she was expecting.

  Kneeling between her knees, his horns brushed the hanging vines, which bloomed with purple light at the contact. Illuminated by the glowing flowers, he pushed her dress up around her hips, baring her heated need to the cool air.

  No one had offered her underwear when they'd been picking out clothing for her and she'd been too embarrassed to ask. Now she was only glad for one less thing in the way as he bent to bury himself in her up to his nose.

  She gasped, gripping his hair and struggling to contain her voice as his talented tongue found her clit and rolled against it with maddening precision, quickly reducing her to a squirming, breathless mess. Just when she thought she was about to come he pulled away, his tongue pressing inside her instead, making her tremble and groan, instantly wanting more, wanting to feel him inside her.

  Instead, after just long enough for her to recover, he returned to his ruthless teasing of her clit again, this time accompanying it with his thick finger pressing inside her.

  She'd been worried about his claws, but he seemed well skilled in using them without hurting her. She supposed with nearly two hundred years of experience, he was bound to have learned a thing or two.

  He brought her to the edge and back at least a dozen times, until she was a trembling, helpless mess, nearly begging to cum. She had him by the horns, holding him against her, and was determined not to let go until she'd finished.

  She felt him chuckle, a pleasant rumble against her over sensitive lips, and then he threw himself into it with more enthusiasm than before until she was shouting his name, hoarse with desire, as she came harder than she ever had in her life.

  Her vision went white and she fell back into the flowers, breathless and hazy eyed as she came down, surrounded by a perfumed cloud of honeysuckle. He licked her clean while she caught her breath, and when she could see again she looked down to see him rising to lean over her, beast like and hungry.

  He'd opened the front of his pants and
his cock, thick and heavy, stood hard and ready for her as he gazed into her eyes, looking for permission. She found herself hesitating, though she was craving him so much she could practically feel her mouthwatering. She pressed a hand to his chest to stop him.

  "I don't want kids," she said, making it clear there was no room for negotiation, "And I'm not your mate. This is just a night, understand?"

  She saw the hurt in his eyes, but he nodded, and when he kissed her she tasted herself on his lips, and the sweet lingering tang of champagne. He reached into his pants and pulled something out.

  A thin slip of paper with a curving symbol printed on it in black. He pressed it to the skin just below her navel and then peeled it away, leaving the now slightly glowing symbol behind. Alien birth control? Certainly more stylish than a condom. It looked like some kind of fancy tattoo.

  "I want you," Gwydion stared into her eyes as he held her legs, lining himself up with her need, which throbbed at his closeness, "I intend to have you. Consider this a challenge, Amorentessa."

  She inhaled sharply as she felt the heavy head of his tool pressing against her, and he pushed forward, sliding halfway into her at once.

  She fell back with a gasp, trembling at the sweet sting of being filled and spread open by his girth, her eyes closed. They opened again as she felt Gwydion's hand on her chin, forcing her to look at him and meet his breathtakingly intense green gaze.

  "I will make you beg to be my mate," his voice was a low, rumbling growl that made shivers run down Jasmine's spine as he slowly rocked his hips deeper, "I will show you such pleasures that no other will ever satisfy you.

  I will not rest until you cannot sleep for dreaming of me. Until you can not come except by my touch. This is my challenge and my vow, Jasmine. May my heart freeze if it isn't true."

  Jasmine could hardly focus on his words, driven to distraction by every roll of his hips. Each slow, teasing motion took him deeper, filling her in ways she'd never felt before, pressing against the sweetest places within her. And as he finished his vow, he drove home completely, his hips striking the back of her thighs with a slap that made her back arch, gasping his name in a rough moan.

  He took her by the hips, grinding within her in a way that made her nearly see stars. His thrusts were slow at first, patient, though she could see he was gritting his teeth, fighting to restrain himself from taking her like a wild animal the way he wanted to. She couldn't help wanting to see what it would be like to feel him give up control completely.

  She wanted him to go wild on her and hold nothing back, and she realized after a moment as he rubbed slow circles over her clit at the same time he was grinding within her, that was exactly what he wanted her to feel.

  He was torturing her as much as himself by holding back. He'd been sincere. He wanted to make her want him.

  But Jasmine had her own plans. She rolled her hips back against him, clamping down hard, moaning his name as she all but rode him. She saw the flicker in his eyes at the sensation of her bearing down on him, the sight of her doing her very best for him.

  For a moment, she thought he would break. But he only snarled, pinning her hips down and moving slower than ever. He glared down at her and she glared right back, breathless as they both were with desire. Fine, she thought. There were other ways she could do this.

  She waited until he'd pulled back, then she hooked her ankles around him, and with a skillful twist rolled them over. She'd made her career grappling like this.

  She caught him by the shoulders, pushing him down as she rolled her hips. She grinned down at him as she pinned him, then sank onto his rod again and moaned with delight to have him within her again. She began to ride him with abandon, throwing her head back in ecstasy as she took control.

  His hands were shaking as he gripped her hips, expression strained as he fought not to give in to the pleasure. She took his hands from her hips to her breasts and sought her own pleasure, stroking herself as she rode him, losing herself to hedonistic ecstasy.

  With a growl of frustration, he grabbed her and rolled them again, crushing the flowers beneath them and releasing their sweet scent into the air as he gave up his fight to control himself.

  He thrust into her with all his power, shaking her to her core with every strike. She brought a hand to her mouth to muffle the moans and whimpers of pleasure that tried to escape her as he gave her exactly what she'd wanted, taking her with animal ferocity.

  She could do nothing but cling to him and quake as he claimed her, holding her close with dangerous claws that never broke her skin, scattering kisses over her throat that in an instant could become bites, fangs scraping the tender hollows of her neck in a way that made her pulse race and her walls tighten around him in desperate need.

  He groaned, panting against her breast, and she felt his wild thrusts becoming uneven as reached between them to rub her clit, making her squirm and tighten around him, pushing her over the edge into blinding ecstasy for the second time that night just seconds before he pulled away to spill his seed over her belly.

  They lay there for a long few minutes after, close enough to steal small, breathless kisses from each other while they regathered their senses, sweat cooling on their skin. At last, Jasmine found her voice, much as she wanted to just doze off now. She nuzzled his jaw to whisper in his ear.

  "So, how awkward is it going to be getting out of this party now?"

  He snorted in amusement and kissed her under the jaw.

  "If you had accepted my love, I would carry you through the party on my shoulders, parading the proverbial stained sheets."

  "I definitely made the right decision in saying no then, because I'm pretty sure I'd have to murder you for that."

  He chuckled, lips brushing her skin and sending another shiver through her.

  "I think it was almost over when we snuck out anyway. We can duck the last few guests."

  He was fortunately right, and together they escaped the now much more sedate party.

  Jasmine thought only one person saw them. Queen Rhiannon, still sitting below the great tree, gave her a knowing nod as they slipped through the doors, and smiled.

  They stumbled, laughing, back into Gwydion's room and fell into the sunken bed together.

  Jasmine, still slightly drunk and satisfied beyond reason, curled up beside the prince without thinking anything of it. She'd never slept so well in her life.

  Chapter Five

  And then the morning came. Jasmine woke before Gwydion, rolling over with a tired yawn. The sunlight through the windows of the room glowed golden on the prince's dark skin, serene in sleep, his arm still around her, holding her close.

  Jasmine stared at him, beautiful and unearthly, sprawled naked on the silk sheets, and guilt gnawed at her. She shouldn't have done what she did last night and she knew it. It was wrong of her to encourage him, wrong of her to get attached, or let him get attached, when she knew she'd be gone soon.

  The acknowledgement of her inescapable death warrant spoiled the beautiful morning. She sat up, her head aching, and gently escaped his arms, slipping out of the bed.

  She didn't have the patience to fuss with either of the dresses she'd been given, so she found one of Gwydion's tunics instead, belting it around herself and going to search for water and breakfast to cure her hangover.

  She hadn't gone far, yawning and rubbing her eyes, before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, turning with a shout of surprise, only to find Efnysien standing behind her, his hands up apologetically.

  "I didn't mean to startle you, Amorentessa," he inclined his head in a brief bow, "But it seems you're wandering around barely dressed again."

  "This is becoming a trend, isn't it?" Jasmine gave a small laugh, "I'm going to need some actual clothes if I'm going to be here much longer. And not just those ridiculous dresses I can't even put on by myself."

  "By all rights, you should have your own suite, and hand maidens to tend you," Efnysien’s shoulders rose in an impatient
sigh, "But the prince has insisted you share his room and he never cared for servants."

  That sounded like him, Jasmine agreed privately rolling her eyes.

  "Regardless," Efnysien continued, "Please allow me to find you some clothing."

  "Gwydion says I shouldn't go anywhere with you," Jasmine put her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looked the older man over, "He seems to think you're plotting to get rid of me before he can talk me into being his amor-whatever."

  "The prince is rightfully cautious," Efnysien admitted with a sage nod, "I would certainly benefit from your being removed from the equation. But I have never been inclined to murder. Especially not with my own hands. Please take it as a comfort, my Amorentessa, that if I decide to have you murdered, it will likely be far away from the palace, and I will be nowhere near you at the time, with a very solid alibi."

  "That's really not all that reassuring," Jasmine said with a laugh, "But thanks for trying. Anyway, if you want to fetch things for me, I'd much rather you find me breakfast."

  Efnysien smiled and offered her his arm.

  "In that case, I would be honored to invite you to dine with my family. We're about to sit down to our mid-day meal. You've slept a bit late for breakfast I'm afraid."

  "Lunch will do," Jasmine replied archly, taking his arm, "So long as it's in the palace and with you very nearby."

  He chuckled in amusement as he led Jasmine away. For herself, Jasmine wasn't worried. Efnysien looked about as threatening as a lemon merengue pie.

  She was pretty sure she could take him. And even if she couldn't, it wasn't like she had a lot to live for. Right now, her life was worth so little to her, it was worth risking it for the chance of lunch.

  Efnysien saw her to his personal chambers, a sprawling suite of rooms, larger than most not for his own ego but to accommodate his exceptionally large family.

  Gwydion had mentioned before that he had four wives, but she hadn't really appreciated that until she saw them. Three women and one handsome younger man sat at a low table in a tapestry draped central den, talking lightly while a host of at least six children made havoc around them. The adults looked up in surprise as Jasmine entered, though the children hardly seemed to notice.