The Vampire King's Mate

by T. S. Ryder

  The door to Dievca's room opened. The T'shav woman rubbed her eyes and jumped a little when she saw Veronica. "Can't sleep?"

  Veronica shook her head. "Would you mind looking after Ava? I want to talk with Chapec."

  A smirk slid over Dievca's face, but she nodded. Veronica handed the baby to her aunt, then went down the corridor to Chapec's room. She hesitated before knocking. He answered almost immediately.

  "Can I come in?"

  He nodded and held the door wider for her. Veronica slipped in, noting with relief that Chapec closed the door behind her. They faced each other awkwardly. A million different things to say shot through Veronica's mind, but nothing sounded right.

  Eventually, Chapec cleared his throat. "Veronica… I know that it's too late to say I'm sorry, but—"

  "It's not too late." She stepped closer to him. "I just wish… I wish things could have been different. You and I really had a shot together. I don't know what's going to happen, but Ava is going to know what a brave man her father is."

  Her T'shav brushed his hand through her hair. "Thank you. I know I don't deserve—"

  She couldn't stand it anymore. Her body drew itself forward, pressing against Chapec's. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. Chapec responded instantly. He grabbed her tightly, hungrily exploring her mouth. A budding warmth started between her legs. It burst into flame when Chapec moved to her neck, nibbling at her sensitive skin.

  "I want you," she whispered, tracing her hands down his muscled back. "I want you right now."

  He yanked at the sleeveless var'kin she wore. It slid easily down her body, leaving her bared to him. Veronica moaned as his hands captured her two overly-sensitive breasts. He fondled them for a moment before seizing her around the waist and throwing her onto the bed, falling on after her. Veronica clung to him, her nails digging into his back. Then she grasped a handful of his var'ki. She pulled the kilt-like garment off his hips, not wanting anything between them.

  A moan escaped his mouth as he ground against her, stoking the fire that was already burning within her. His movements hit her just right, sending spots of black and white pleasure splashing across her vision. Veronica kissed every inch of him that she could reach. Her hand slid down his back, grasping his rump to pull him tighter against her.

  Chapec moved back to her neck as he grabbed both her thighs, pushing them up until her ankles were around his ears. The stretch burned the back of her thighs, but she didn't care as her T'shav looked her in the eye. Her body shuddered as he entered, slowly, and began his rhythm. She reached for him. Their hands interlocked together, eyes locked on one another. Courses of pleasure burst through her.

  This was bliss. Veronica gasped for breath as the pleasure built hotter inside of her, as a feeling of connectedness she had never experienced before shot between her and Chapec. In that moment it was like she could see a billion stars and every one of them sung for her. The feel of his body, the look in his eyes, it was more than she could ever imagine. And she wanted it to last forever.

  Eventually, Chapec's motions turned jerky. He pushed her legs back to the bed so he could lie over her, kissing her deeply. The kiss undid her. The fires inside burst and swayed, filling every inch of her until all she could do was writhe and scream in pleasure. By the time it was over, her throat was raw. Chapec laid over her, panting for breath, his weight comforting.

  "You're my mate," she whispered. "Whatever happens at the Sanctuary, I will stand with you. I love you."

  Chapec rose his head. His eyes were wide, wondering. "You do?"

  She nodded.

  "But… how? After I treated you so badly—"

  "I love you," she repeated. "And I was so angry, but I can forgive you. I love you. I don't want to ever leave you…"

  Chapec kissed her again. "I love you, too. But you need to do what is best for our baby."

  Veronica sucked her lip between her teeth, fighting tears. He was right, of course. If it was just her… but she had their daughter to think about, too. But no matter what happened, she wasn't going to leave him alone. She would find a way to be with him.

  Even if Zon demanded the worst.

  Chapter Twelve – Chapec

  Dievca shivered in the prison cell, though it was a decent temperature. Not too cold, not too hot. Chapec didn't blame her for trembling, though. It was nerve-wracking, being here in the Sanctuary, waiting for judgment to fall.

  The nerves weren't as bad as they could have been for him. He was reconciled with Veronica, and she had come to see them often since their arrival and trial. Ava was growing quickly, and just the previous day she had given him her first smile.

  "It's going to be okay," he told his sister, squeezing her hand. "Whatever happens. You're not alone."

  "You're only saying that because you don't know what's going to happen," Dievca muttered. "I heard Zon. It's up to Gylden to decide our fate. He's the one we tried to kill, so he's the one who decides if we die."

  That did it. Their fate rested in the hands to the man they had wanted to kill–the man whose child they had threatened. Chapec shuddered. If it was Chapec, he never would have forgiven them. He could only hope Gylden had a more magnanimous nature.

  The door to the cell opened. The twins jumped to their feet as the man they had just been talking about stepped into the room. Chapec instinctively stepped in front of Dievca, protecting them. Gylden looked at the two of them with a blank expression.

  Chapec took a deep breath. What could he say to convince this man to let them live? He didn't even consider freedom as an option. Not after what had happened.

  "Did we hurt your daughter?" Dievca asked, her voice subdued.

  "No," Gylden said. "She's fine. But will she stay safe if I decide to let you live?"

  "Yes." Chapec hung his head. "I never would have let Dievca do what she did if I had known… but it's not her fault. She has been grieving for years. I didn't see just how badly she was hurting. I take it all on myself."

  Gylden stepped forward, gaze intent. "What was your father's name?"

  Dievca stepped a little closer to Chapec. Her voice wobbled. "Ontzag."

  "I'm sorry."

  Chapec's head jerked up. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. They were the ones that threatened his family, and he was apologizing to them? The older T'shav's shoulders were slumped, his face creased with sadness.

  "I don't remember all the people I've killed. I don't remember your father. As a gladiator, I tried to forget the faces I saw. If it weren't for my Bianca, I don't think I'd have the sanity to go on every day. I was put in the games as a child after my parents were killed. It wasn't something I chose for myself."

  And we were going to kill him. Chapec was surprised to feel his eyes burn. If it wasn't for Veronica coming into his life, making him question his path of vengeance… This man didn't deserve death.

  "But I am so, so sorry for taking him from you."

  "I'm sorry," Dievca whispered. "I'm sorry for hating you. I'm sorry for threatening your child—"

  "Forgiven." Gylden put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't carry guilt. Acknowledge it, but don't let it crush you."

  It was the sort of thing their father would have said. Chapec felt his lips twitch into a smile despite the situation. He felt like a weight had lifted off his chest. No longer crushed by the desire for revenge or the heavy feeling of not knowing how to ever make things right. But he knew that he would have to keep working, to prove to himself he was worthy of Veronica.

  Gylden looked at him now. "As for you… Don't let go of that mate of yours. She has visited me every day to plead your case. She's a rare one."

  "I know. And believe me, I am not going to take that for granted again."

  "Good. Because I have decided on your punishment."

  Nerves churned in Chapec's stomach. Dievca clutched his hand.

  "You'll stay here in the Sanctuary. Veronica tells me that you have decent farming skills. So you'll be placed
with the farmers. After you have worked twice as long as you held Veronica captive, you'll both be given assessments to see where the best fit for you really is. And you, Dievca, will not be allowed to drink alcohol for that time, either. Veronica told me how you have been overindulging."

  Dievca swallowed and nodded. "But is that it? We'll work and… that's it? We're forgiven?"

  "Not exactly. You will be kept under watch until you can prove that this isn't some sort of complicated plot so you can try to kill me again."

  She shook her head. "I don't want to anymore. I… I want to learn how to find my own life."

  "I know what that feels like. Good luck. To both of you."

  With a gentle smile, Gylden left again. The twins stared at each other. Chapec didn't know what to say. This was better than the best scenario he had dared hope for. Freedom. A place at the Sanctuary. Farming wasn't necessarily his strongest talent, but he didn't care. They weren't prisoners.

  It wasn't much longer before Veronica came to see them. A grin spread across her face and she threw herself into Chapec's arms. She kissed him fiercely, making him chortle in delight. Dievca groaned and turned away, making gagging noises.

  "Stop it!"

  Veronica pulled away and shot her a half-annoyed glance. "Forgive me for being happy. But I heard the news. It's fantastic! You're both free. And we'll get our own little plot of land, and Ava will grow up with her father, mother and aunt all looking out for her."

  Chapec's heart swelled with happiness as Veronica nestled his arms. Dievca smiled at the two of them before murmuring that she was going to go find out more about the plot of land they were going to farm. Chapec and Veronica also left to go to her apartment, though it didn't escape the T'shav's notice that they were followed by a couple of guards. He didn't mind. After what had happened before, it was only logical. The Sanctuary had to maintain its security, after all. And they'd be gone soon enough.

  "Where is Ava?" Chapec asked.

  "Sara is looking after her right now. I wanted time to speak with you. To tell you how much I love you."

  "I love you, too. And I will make you proud of me. I will make Ava proud of me. I promise."

  "I know." Veronica leaned into his arms. She raised her face to his, and they shared another kiss; the kiss that would start them on their new life together.

  Chapec couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

  *****

  THE END

  Taken by Two Alien Kings

  Description

  What’s better than being paired with a hot alien? Being paired with two hot aliens of course.

  Cheryl is the new queen in the Demante System. Purchased from Earth and raised as a temple-virgin, she was selected to rule. She’s about to meet her king, chosen through a series of battles. Only to find that there’s not just one, but two candidates...

  Oh my, whom to choose? One is even hotter and more dominant than the other. There’s Bjorn of the house of Leshire, the one everybody expected to claim the queen. And then there’s Maskin, the warrior-slave who is challenging the noble houses. Both are equally ready to punish any disobedience and submit her to their desires.

  The task is easy: who gets her pregnant first gets the throne. But who knew there’d be enemies along the way? Enemies that beat her alien kings to hell to have Cheryl for themselves?

  Staying alive isn’t easy, but it’s easier than choosing between the two warriors. Right? With the enemy on their heels and time ticking, Cheryl has to make the choice of her life. All she can hope for is that her sexy warriors stay alive long enough to hear her out.

  Chapter One: Cheryl

  Today was the day. The previous king of the Demante System had died, and the widow-queen was ready to hand her crown to the next temple-slave chosen to be queen. Cheryl would meet her husband and give the system a new king.

  The human tried to keep herself still as the temple acolytes buzzed around her. Their shiny metal skins flashed in the bright light cast by the sun rods, long tubular lamps that were charged in the sunlight and released their warm glow indoors. She was so excited that she couldn't stop herself from beaming, although she knew this was a solemn occasion.

  The acolytes painted her lips red and braided her golden hair into a crown around her head. The black gown she had been put into was tighter than anything she had worn before. It accentuated all her curves, although the seams strained at the waist. Probably a reminder from Priest Quincy that she hadn't dropped the twenty pounds he had told her to lose by this date.

  Well, no matter. She'd be away from the priest soon enough, and he couldn't remind her again and again that she was fat. She knew that she weighed more than she was supposed to, but she didn't care. She knew in her gut that her king wouldn't mind, either.

  "Are you excited?" one of the acolytes asked, tinny voice reverberating in its metal shell.

  "Deliriously happy. I love my life in the temple, but I am eager to see what the world is like. And to meet my husband." Cheryl ducked her head and blushed, a small smile on her face.

  She was more excited about her wedding night than she cared to admit. The only man she had regular contact with was Priest Quincy, but late at night, she liked to indulge herself in imagining what her king would be like. Cheryl had known from the time she was a little girl that her destiny was to be the next queen of the Temadian people. She had been selected from among the slaves purchased from Earth by the Demante System when she was just a baby.

  The Temadians were a society built by men. Their women had left eons ago, although nobody knew where they had gone. For centuries, the only way for the Temadian people to reproduce was to take their massive starships and steal women from other systems.

  Although that custom had long since died, the coronation of the new queen was a remembrance of those days. She was always a temple-slave obtained through trade with another species, and her king was selected through a series of battles. The Gods selected one of the champions to survive the tournament, and once he was married to the queen, he was king.

  Cheryl's king was rumored to be the previous king's nephew, Bjorn, but she wouldn't know for certain until she was presented to him. Her heart pounded with excitement as the acolytes put the finishing touches on her hair and rolled back to inspect their work. The dim, gold light of their eyes turned red, a sign that they approved of what they saw. The human took a deep breath, grinning widely.

  "Remember, child, not to expect too much from your wedding night," one of them said. "Just close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere else."

  Cheryl nodded meekly, although her mind was always full of dirty thoughts when she thought about her wedding night these days. She imagined intense pleasure, both for her and her king. Would he tear her dress right off her skin, the way she liked to imagine it?

  She smoothed her skirt as she stood, following the acolytes to where Priest Quincy waited. As head of the Queen's Temple, he was responsible for the ceremony today, as well as Cheryl's upbringing, although her teacher for most of her life had been her mother, until her early death. He shook his head when he saw her, a look of distaste coming over his face. Cheryl's heart dropped, though she tried to suppress it.

  Since she was a child her genes have been altered little by little so when she became pregnant with the king's baby, a pure-blooded Temadian would be born. It would take a lifetime to replace her, and the Demante system could not last without a king to rule over the dozen planets and order the fleets of warrior-slaves in their defense. No matter what Quincy thought, he would not take her destiny from her.

  "Our king will need nerves of steel to bed you. I told you to lose weight." Priest Quincy squinted his eyes at her. "A queen must be regal, not round. Well, you are your king's problem now, not mine."

  He turned and walked away, clearly expecting Cheryl to follow. She did so. Deep down, she knew she should be sad about leaving her temple and fearful about her future. But she was the queen. The only luxury was in her future, and a l
ifetime of giving her king beautiful, dark blue babies.

  Priest Quincy led her outside. Cheryl winced as a roaring cheer echoed in her ears. As she stepped onto the platform at the top of the temple steps, it rose into the air, a slight hum all that was indicative of the hover engines beneath the slab of stone. A sea of people spread all around the temple and they chanted her name as she floated over them. After a few minutes, the platform set down at the top of the palace steps.

  This was it. Cheryl eagerly looked down the steps, to the courtyard below. It was full like the temple grounds had been, but her king would be waiting for her on the bottom step.

  Her brow furrowed. There were two men standing below her.

  "I should have said that you are the kings' problem," Priest Quincy whispered in her ear. He stepped forward. "Bjorn of the house of Leshire."

  The man to the right stepped towards her and bowed. His brown hair was trimmed neatly around his ears. He wore the sleek, ruby-red armor of the noble houses. It was molded to his body, made from nanites that would detect coming pressure and thicken the armor at points of impact. It also showed off his impressive shape. He was muscular and lithe, like the panther in the Earth storybook her mother used to read to her. His skin was midnight blue, indicating that he was a pureblooded Temadian–or as pure blooded as was possible these days. The crowd chanted his name.

  "Maskin, Hero of the Apdratee invasion."

  The second man's most prominent feature was the fierce scowl he wore. His hair was long, braided down his back. He was larger than Bjorn. His black studded armor was clearly meant for heavy battles, rather than the ceremonial skirmishes Bjorn's nanite armor was designed for. His arms were naked and bore scars, both of blade and blaster. Dark diamonds were tattooed under his eyes. Judging from the sky-blue of his skin, he was born a warrior-slave. A mix of insults and cheers rose for him. He did not bow.