Forbidden Alien Prince: Celestial Mates (The Alva) Read online

  He doesn't stop until I pull his head away, groaning. He moves down farther, stopping at my navel and nuzzling it as his large, callused hands slide up the insides of my thighs and push them farther apart.

  His hot breath brushes across my skin as he continues down, but then Drevakin pauses, his eyes focused between my legs. He looks up, his eyes narrowed, their color a darker purple, lust crystal clear. His cheeks are flushed as his hands clench my thighs.

  "No undergarment?" he growls.

  It’s possessive and not called for in our situation, but I can't deny that I like it.

  "Everything shows under... this," I explain, gesturing at the dress, only part of my midsection covered by it now.

  It felt odd walking around without underwear, the dress itself flimsy enough to make it seem like I had nothing on. I would never dress like this if the heat didn't mean it’s also practical. Definitely more comfortable.

  Drevakin shakes his head. "This is a temptation no male could resist."

  "I don't want you to resist," I murmur.

  "Then you shall have your wish," he says, his eyes on mine as he lowers his head to taste me.

  The first swipe of his mobile tongue has me closing my eyes and swallowing hard in response. I will definitely keep this dress. I hum, digging my fingernails into his scalp as I try to push closer to his ridiculously talented mouth.

  He increases the pressure of his tongue in response, licking up and down my length, making a low sound in the back of his throat in obvious enjoyment. That's almost better than the actual sensation. Knowing he's liking it as much as I am.

  His thumb rubs the sensitive, delicate grooves where my thighs meet my body, as he licks and sucks my slick folds, my breathy moans filling the silence. He's so good and I'm a very appreciative recipient.

  I groan as he scrapes his fangs against me then pulls back like he’s afraid it was too much.

  I shake my head. "More," I urge, trying to bring him back, wanting the dangerous, thrilling sensation of his fangs against me.

  "Are you certain?" he asks, his breath coming in pants.

  "Yes," I say, arching up against his mouth.

  He doesn't ask again, giving me what I want. He adds delicate scrapes to his licks as he settles in against my clitoris, right where I need him, the nub sensitized from what he's already done.

  My thighs tremble as my orgasm draws nearer, my body almost trying to fight him off, the cresting sensation close to overwhelming.

  He holds my thighs apart with a firm grip, his large hands controlling me as he licks with a furious intent, pushing me to the cliff. It doesn't take much longer.

  My cry is low and hoarse as I grind against his face, shaking with the intensity of the climax as he keeps up the stimulation, drawing it out as long as it can go, holding me down forcefully so he can keep his mouth on me. It's almost painfully intense.

  As I relax back against the couch, breathless, he lifts his mouth, kissing the inside of my thigh, the gesture surprisingly sweet. I didn't expect sweetness after his coldness before. It's... nice. I try not to read too much into it, no matter how much I want it to mean more. He brings my legs back together and tugs my dress down to cover me again, his touch considerate and caring. Though maybe I'm reading too much into it.

  He even slides my straps back up my arms as I watch with half open eyes, limp from what just happened. I would be happy to lie here for the next week. He gives my breasts another firm squeeze, his face tight, still wound up, but he covers them anyway, smoothing the fabric over my curves.

  He meets my eyes with a confusing mix of emotions. This transgression is much worse than the previous one. We're in Rathorin's house, his home. Reckless doesn't even cover it.

  "This was not a good idea," I mutter.

  He sighs, cupping my face with one large hand. "No, it was not," he agrees, a tight grin on his face. "But I don't regret it."

  I smile back, layering my hand over his, appreciating the sentiment. I open my mouth, to say what I don't know, when the sound of the front door opens down the hall. My eyes widen in alarm as I sit up and Drevakin's own face shuts down as he rises and steps back.

  He moves to the other side of the room and sits across from me again, grimacing as he tries to adjust the impressive bulge in his pants. I hope nobody looks there. No way would they miss it if they even just glance in the general direction.

  My face burns hot so I know it's flushed. When I look down, my nipples are hard under the flimsy material of the dress, poking out and demanding attention. I can't help either of those things.

  Watching Drevakin's guarded face I bite my lip, listening to the sound of footsteps coming our way, the weight and confidence of them telling me who it has to be. Drevakin stands as Rathorin enters the room.

  Rathorin's eyes take in the scene, his jaw clenched tight. Anger dances in his eyes and his hand balls into a fist. His eyes rake over me. He's not happy. I stand too, feeling vulnerable sitting down while they both tower over me. Not that they don't tower while I'm standing too. Maybe I need to get stilts or something.

  "Every time I turn around, you are here," Rathorin growls, his nostrils flaring as he looks between us again. "It is not wise to draw this... attention... to yourself, Drevakin." He turns his cold eyes towards me. "Why are you here alone with him?" he demands, his eyes skating down my body.

  It’s like he knows exactly what was going on, though that might be my paranoia talking.

  "It felt rude to leave him outside to wait," I murmur.

  He looks at me, his face letting me know he isn't buying it. I mean, I don't blame him. I wouldn't buy it either.

  His attention goes back to Drevakin, his hands smoothing the red robe he wears which I note is matching me again. I don't know why I find that so creepy, but I do. I can't help but assume he tries to use the matching outfits as a visual way to claim me as his. Weird and uncomfortable.

  "Why are you here?" Rathorin demands, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

  Shit.

  "Once again your people attacked mine. I am here to tell you that you must do something. You cannot ignore this issue because it is inconvenient," Drevakin bites out, his eyes going to Rathorin's sword, but his hands staying loose at his sides.

  He's trying not to escalate the situation.

  Rathorin barks out a laugh. "House Lo'ara exists only because of my sufferance," he scoffs, his expression matching his tone. Ugly, condescending. "You would do well to remember that."

  Drevakin's face is unreadable but his eyes are cold rage. This isn't good. There’s nothing I can do that will improve the situation. It would make it worse if I say what I'm thinking, so I bite my tongue.

  "If you do not do something, I will," Drevakin hisses.

  Rathorin raises his eyebrows in mock surprise. "That is ill-advised," he warns. "Do not forget who wields the power in this relationship."

  Drevakin smiles, though there's no humor in it. "How could I?" he murmurs, bowing.

  The gesture is dripping with sarcasm. I didn't know a respectful gesture like that could be so mocking. It isn't smart, but I can’t say I blame him for it.

  "I will leave you to your day," Drevakin murmurs as he straightens.

  He turns towards me and bows again, the gesture much more respectful, his eyes soft as they meet mine. I nod in response, hoping I don't give my own feelings away in front of Rathorin. As Drevakin walks to the hall leading to the front door, Rathorin speaks again.

  "Do not enter my home when I am not here again."

  Drevakin pauses, his back stiffening, but then he nods. He doesn't turn around as he continues to the front door. Rathorin watches me as the door closes behind Drevakin.

  "Do you think me a fool, my Princess," he bites out when we're alone.

  I swallow, my hands damp, my heart beat loud in my ears. "No, I do not," I say, cold sweat trickling down my spine.

  He steps closer, his eyes sliding down my body, the scrutiny makes me feel dirty.
r />   "But you must. You think I do not see how you look at that trash? A male from a Minor House!" He says the latter like it's inconceivable anyone would find anyone from a Minor House attractive. "All the while, you hold me, your mate, at arm's length! It is ridiculous!" He laughs, a harsh sound, as he steps closer still. "Perhaps I have been too lenient, given you the wrong impression," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The softer tone puts me on edge. I'd prefer it if he yelled, or raged, this makes a chill run down my back. I stiffen and suck in a breath as he slides one hand around me, cupping my ass, while the other slides up and closes over my breast. His eyes dare me to do anything about it.

  "This is mine," he says in a low voice, squeezing both hands for good measure, too hard. I know it isn't a mistake. He wants it to hurt. "Do not doubt it."

  I err on the side of silence, my jaw clenching as my skin crawls from the unwanted contact. He smirks as he watches me straining to contain myself.

  "Good. It seems you are understanding." He holds my eyes with his as he uses his thumb to toy with my nipple, showing me he can do whatever he wants.

  I refuse to react, I won't give him the satisfaction. His smile widens, enjoying my discomfort.

  "Tonight we consummate our relationship. Be ready," he orders.

  He lets go of me and walks away without a backward glance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Drevakin

  I hesitate outside the door as I leave the Ti’ana House Mansion. Every part of me wants me to turn around, go back inside, pick Clara up and take her with me. Anything but leave her here, vulnerable to Rathorin's whim. I don't like the way he looked at her.

  She may have kept her face stoic, but there was trepidation in her eyes as I left, anxiety emanating from her stiff body. Harming one's mate is anathema, but I would not trust Rathorin with anyone I care about. And I care, there's no denying it.

  Attempting to take Clara with me would not end well for either me or her. As ferocious as my need to protect her is, I am but one person in the heart of another's House and a Major one at that. It would be suicide. If Rathorin didn't stop me from leaving the House Mansion, his guards would be sure to cut me down at the border wall.

  Which would put Clara in danger.

  My heart breaks as I force myself to walk away through the teeming marketplace. The loud colors, cacophony of sounds, and mixture of smells is even more intense in my current state. Even more irritating when all I want is to find a dark corner in which to lick my wounds.

  I make it to my carriage without committing murder but only just. A heavy sense of wrongness lies in my actions as I urge the juntta through the gates and across the flat space to the bright lit tunnel that leads out of the Rakennus. Clara should be with me.

  Passing through the tunnel to the dimness on the other side, I have the undeniable feeling that this is not right. I can't go. It might well be insanity to go back and take Clara with me, but I cannot leave her there with Rathorin. I know it will haunt me.

  I could not stop thinking of her after our first encounter. It will be worse now. The physical attraction is greater than anything I have ever felt before but it's more than that. Her strength, both emotional and physical, calls to me. Her intelligence is undeniable, her quick ability to learn our language is astounding.

  I cannot leave her with that brute.

  I stop the carriage and turn it around. The sounds of multiple carriages are coming down the tunnel toward me. Frowning, I wondering where such a group could be going.

  I'm not left to wonder for long. Rathorin's guards, dressed in his colors, fan out in front of me. I assess them and where we are. There are too many for me to take and win. But there is no safety nearby. Nowhere to run.

  My smile is grim as I slide my sword out with one hand and my knife with the other, warming up my wrists as they hop down from their carriages, their own weapons already bared. I watch as they look at each other smiling, confident, knowing they will win.

  I know they will win too, but they'll pay for this victory. Sending a silent apology to Clara, I climb down from my carriage. I'll meet my fate on my feet, with my blades in hand. Striding toward them, not waiting for them to come at me, I smile. One takes the bait and closes the distance, wearing his arrogance like a cloak. He attacks with a showy two-handed swing of his heavy sword.

  He's accustomed to winning using brute strength. Strength isn't the most important factor in a fight. Or even the third most important.

  Dodging his swing, I loop around and stab him in the back of his thigh with my knife. Pulling my blade out in a single motion, I dance out of his reach once again. He snarls as he spins around; the arrogance replaced by fury at being injured.

  Good.

  An emotional opponent is a weak opponent. His next swing has more finesse. He feints in one direction and then changes course, aiming for my side, but I'm not there. His sword slices through empty air and he's fully extended. Vulnerable.

  I come up under his extended arm and slice his throat. A gush of blood sprays out in a wide, scarlet arc, reminding me of the color of Clara's dress.

  The male drops his sword and clutches his neck, too panicked to realize he cannot undo his mistake. His death is inevitable. He falls over, gurgling as his life's blood seeps out.

  The other guards’ demeanors are different now that one of them lies dead at my feet. I step away from the body so as not to slip in his blood. I raise my sword and knife in a classic defensive stance as they circle, intending my death.

  They will have to work for it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Clara

  After Rathorin walks away I stand, waiting for what I don't know, disconnected with reality. Did that just happen?

  Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself so I can focus and think everything through. One thing is clear. I can't be with Rathorin. I should have believed what he's been showing me all along, that he's not a good person. It has nothing to do with cultural differences or miscommunication of any kind. He enjoys the power he wields, enjoys crushing other people with it, watching them squirm. Calling him a sociopath isn’t being too extreme.

  Fuck.

  What am I going to do? Do I even stay on this planet, let alone in House Ti'ana? I want to explore the burgeoning feelings I have for Drevakin, but he hasn't made any kind of overtures for an actual relationship. Two hot encounters don't amount to anything.

  If I want to go back to Earth, how do I go about doing that? Do I try to get back to the Celestial Mates office and attempt to pull the plug on this whole thing? I don't even know if I can make it there on my own. I made the trip from there to here only once while I was still in a daze from the teleportations it took get to Alva.

  And there weren't a lot of identifiable landmarks to go by, anyway. I'm more likely to get hopelessly lost in the maze of underground tunnels. If I have to take that risk, I will, but it most definitely isn't ideal. I scrub at my face with both hands, feeling trapped, angry, and a bunch of other things I can't even put my finger on, but they aren't good.

  All right.

  I need to get a handle on what needs to be done because now I have a concrete deadline. Tonight. No way I'm letting that asshole put his hands on me. I leave the room and go out into the hall, intending to go back to my room when Rathorin's voice comes from his study. He's talking to someone else.

  Frowning, I creep closer, straining to catch what's going on. There's a chance it might affect my plans.

  "Are you certain this is a wise decision, my Prince?" a man asks, his tone respectful and wary.

  It’s obvious how careful he's being. Definitely a man who's had experience with Rathorin.

  "Did I ask for your input?" Rathorin asks, his voice cold.

  "No, my Prince," the man murmurs.

  "Drevakin has insulted me and this House with his accusations. And now he has set his eyes on my mate. Unacceptable! Do you think these transgressions are minor?" he demands.

  Thi
s is not heading in a direction I like.

  "No, my Prince," the man murmurs again.

  I almost feel sorry for the guy.

  "I want this matter taken care of right away. He should be nearby still. I do not want him to reach House Lo'ara. And I do not want news of this to reach anyone else. Do you understand?"

  My heart beats faster, but a calm washes over me as it becomes crystal clear what my next step has to be.

  Lo'ara. I've heard the name before.

  There's nothing else I need to hear. It's enough. Slipping down the hall I make my way to my room, changing into the jeans, t-shirt, and boots I brought with me before pulling out an outer robe to layer on top. The jeans will still draw attention, but there’s no way I'm running after Drevakin in one of these gowns. And I am going after him.

  The main reason he's become a target for Rathorin's rage is because of me. Because of my inability to keep my hands off of him. Whether Drevakin wants more with me or not is a moot point. He's in danger and I won't let them hurt him without trying to help. Especially not because of my own actions. It isn't right.

  Once I'm dressed, I put my ear to the door and listen.

  Quiet.

  I open it and slip out. I need to make one stop before I leave the House Mansion. Turning away from the front door, I head deeper in, toward a room I've visited during my wanderings and make it there without incident.

  Closing the door behind me, I survey the weapons hanging on the walls. Swords, knifes, bows and arrows. There's a plethora of ornately carved, bejeweled and delicate weapons on display, covering almost every available inch of the walls. Here's to hoping they aren't just decorative.

  I grab a knife and weigh it in my hand, testing the edge before slipping it back into its scabbard and tying it around my waist with the attached belt. Roaming an eye over the swords, I decide to pass. I have no experience with them apart from the plastic light saber I had as a kid, and I'm sure that doesn't count. I'd end up chopping off my hand or something.