Pheromone, page 32
part #1 of For the Love of Aliens Series
I smell him before I see him.
Cardamom and honey. Moth pheromones. The prince is coming.
I look down and there he is, striding across the clearing as he pulls his gloves off, finger by finger. He reaches up to rub at his forehead, and I just know that I hit him in the face with the alien yam.
Abraxas. Oh God, what if he’s not okay? What if Moth Guy got him?
The prince’s dark eyes, as endless as a starless sky, sweep my nude form with fire and precision, searing intent and ardor into me. When we look at each other, I feel that strange falling, an emotional tumbling, like I’ve just crawled into bed at home, tucked beneath the covers. Safe. Comfortable.
Waiting to be fucked.
I shove up to my feet and take a sudden step back, nearly tripping over the furs from last night’s makeshift bed.
No, no, no.
“Good morning, Princess.” Moth Guy looks me over from down below, his massive horn-like antennae shifting forward as if to scent me. His blizzard-white wings spread wide and then gently fan forward, stirring the air, suffocating me with that scent.
He walks right over to my den and climbs the side of the ship like it’s nothing, landing in front of me in his military suit and boots. His cloak—err wings—sweep the floor as he looks around with another scowl.
“You’ve mated him.”
He sounds like he wants to kill something.
No. Not something. He sounds like he wants to kill Abraxas.
“Stalker moth guy,” I whisper back at him, trying to play glib when really, I’m terrified. His presence here, it’s not a small thing. It’s a big one. A very, very bad one.
“Rurik.” He slaps the pair of gloves against his palm and stalks over to me, putting his bare hand on my cheek. My knees drop me to the floor and he follows as I gasp in pain. I hit the metal hard. “That’s my name. You can also call me Your Imperial Majesty.” A long pause as he forces a cruel smile. “Or … husband works, too.”
I slap him, and he snatches my wrist, gritting those insane teeth of his. Like a vampire. He has three on either side of his mouth. The rest of his teeth seem relatively normal. He snatches my wrist and brings it to his face, inhaling deeply and then letting out a hiss.
“Will you submit to a medical examination?” he asks me, and I kick him in the face. I try to anyway, and I almost manage it, but he uses his knee to pin my thigh to the floor, shoving me onto my back and locking my wrists down with his horrifically strong grip.
It doesn’t help that I’m naked. It really doesn’t help. That smell. My body. I’m fighting a losing fucking battle here. I’d rather suffocate than breathe in another lungful of that tainted air. My body has other ideas. She wants it. She doesn’t care if this moment is breaking my heart. I’ve chosen Abraxas, and I want this moth to fuck all the way off. I lied when I said I didn’t want him to die. I do. I just want him gone.
“Where is Abraxas?” I whisper, and His Imperial Majesty looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about. “The Aspis male! Where the fuck is he?”
A roar shatters the jungle followed by the frantic flapping of thousands of wings as creatures flee the woods. Because that sound? It’s a sound of rage.
It’s Abraxas.
It’s my mate.
The moth prince smiles at me, pinning me to the floor of my own den.
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll track him down, cut his tongue out, and skin him alive for daring to touch my future queen.” He taps a device at his ear and snarls into it. “Bring us up.”
“If you kill him, I will kill myself.” Now it’s my turn to smile as the prince directs those endless eyes back to me. His wings spread open behind him, an obvious sign of distress. Oh, he’s easy to read. “Then we’ll both die. Try me, asshole.”
He punches the floor next to me with his fist and snatches my chin with his other hand, nails pricking my skin.
The ship heaves around us, lurching to one side and then the other before my stomach flips with the sensation of velocity. It’s as disorienting as an amusement park ride, this rapid feeling of going up, up, up. The ground groans around us, the heavy vines snap, and when I lift my head to peer past the prince, I can see a dizzying rush of tree trunks, green canopy, and then endless sky.
I pull in a sharp gasp.
“You will submit to a med check.” He leans in and puts his mouth near my ear. I can hear the hiss and whisper of his real words beneath the translator’s dulcet, pompous tones. “And you will never see this planet nor your own ever again. When I am king, I will destroy them both.”
We come to a sudden stop, so sudden that I fly up off the floor and then slam back down with enough force to conk my head. Only … I don’t hit my head because he catches it in his hand. Our eyes meet, and it happens all over again.
I have traveled through time and space to find you, his gaze says.
I want to scream. Of all the things that have happened to me, this is the worst. When he looks at me, it feels like I’m right where I’m meant to be. My free will has been stripped. Abraxas was right: these creatures are parasites. Fucking parasites.
Rurik shoves up from the floor, and I try to follow.
But I can’t.
My limbs feel heavy, and a dizziness sweeps over me that makes the whole world spin. I roll onto my stomach and crawl, naked and dazed, toward the nest. I don’t look at the bright lights outside the ship, the sterile metal walls, or the prince as he studies me over his shoulder.
With the last of my strength, I crawl into the nest, roll down the gentle incline into the furs and black out with Abraxas’ scent all around me.
I’m drooling everywhere. I hope Abraxas doesn’t mind adding extra laundry days to his schedule. I can’t help it. Sometimes when I sleep, I drool. Don’t most people? No? Just me? With a grumble, I roll over, nuzzling into my mate’s warmth. His smell calms me in a way nothing else ever has. Isn’t that crazy? That a person could get so worked up by something as invisible as pheromones?
His arms come around me, holding me close, and I know that I’m safe.
Cardamom and honey.
It hits me like a punch to the gut, and I gasp, shoving up violently from where I was sleeping.
Seems to me that I was in the prince’s arms.
He holds his hands up and out to either side, as if in surrender. But his head is bowed, and he has this awful smile on his mouth that makes me feel perfectly homicidal. Those demonic eyes of his open up and he turns to me, tucking his massive antennae back against his head. They extend past his skull on either side, like rabbit ears or something.
I slam my body into a metal wall, panting heavily, eyes blurred from sleep. I’m still naked, standing in a small room with the moth prince and another guy of the same species. The other dude is far less attractive, despite sharing similar features. That bothers me.
“My apologies, Imperial Highness. It’s well-known that the Aspis have the ability to disrupt electrical signals, but I did not believe it would extend to one’s mate.”
The prince sighs, pulling red gloves from his pocket and slipping them on. He crosses his arms over his chest, his fur-like hair falling halfway down his back. His wings rest in a clever nook carved into the back of the chair, like it was designed for this express purpose.
My eyes dart around the room. The only window shows … it shows … I can see …
“Oh my God.” I turn and throw up on the floor. Not my most dignified moment, but … we’re in space. It’s one thing to wake up on another planet. It’s a whole other to be in goddamn motherfucking outer space! “I hate space,” I whisper, feeling a panic attack coming on. I push the heel of my hand against my chest, trying to calm my rapid heart rate. Remember when I said I’d imagined horrible ways to die? Lava was one of them. Being ejected into outer space in a suit and having to make the decision on whether or not to remove the helmet, starving to death, or simply waiting for my oxygen to run out as I’m sucked toward a blackhole— “I hate spaceships.”
Never been (conscious) on one before, but I already know I’m not going to like it.
My gaze drifts up to the ceiling. There are … like, tendrils or something snaking along the ceiling and the walls. Some of them are crimson and meaty while others glow and pulse, like a heartbeat. I look to my right and see a large vein-like growth. What the hell is this?
“You hate space?” the prince repeats, standing up from his chair. I reach up my hand to feel for the translator, intending on tossing it against the wall in protest. It’s not there. “You hate spaceships?” He sounds exasperated, especially when his gaze drops to the mess I’ve just left on the ground.
As I stare out the window, I see a distant planet, patchy with green and sapphire.
It’s Jungryuk. It’s Abraxas’ planet. Abraxas is down there.
I am up here.
I am here.
I am …
“What have you done?” I ask, sliding to the floor. I’ve been through a lot recently. Waking up under the Humans … pets, meat, or mates sign was a pretty big shock. Somehow, this is worse. I have the distinct and unshakeable feeling that I will never see Abraxas again.
I was falling in love with him.
I love him.
“We have outfitted you with a translator,” the prince explains, moving over to stand in front of me. His wings sway like a cloak around his booted feet. “You’ve been given synchronicity contacts; you will see us speaking as if we are truly speaking your language. It will allow us to have more pleasant interactions with one another.”
I look up at him with a strangled laugh stuck in my throat.
The only thing keeping me calm here is this: without me, the prince will die. Abraxas told me that, and I trust him as much as I’ve ever trusted anyone. Moth Guy—Rurik—needs me. He can’t kill me. But he can lock you up, chain you to a wall, keep you there for the rest of your miserable life. All he needs is your blood.
“Pleasant interactions?” I breathe, shoving up to my feet. I might be naked, but I don’t have to let him have the high ground. The other moth guy—a doctor, I think—turns away to face the wall, allowing us a modicum of privacy.
Rurik stares me down with his horrible eyes. There’s a deep sadness in them, one that echoes back from inside of me, like I’m making a huge mistake by wanting to hate him. And hate him I do.
“Put me back where you found me.” I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides. Not all that long ago, I would’ve been … well, not thrilled to be here, but I would’ve had hope that I could return to Earth. Or find Jane. If this guy is a prince, he must have plenty of resources at his disposal.
He smiles at me again, and it’s as ugly as it was the last time around. He’s wearing something strange on the left side of his head and over his face, something with a small, red screen that partially covers his eye. I can see tiny words scrawled across it, like maybe it’s the alien version of a smartwatch or something. He reaches up to remove it, setting it on the medical table beside him. I didn’t wake up on that table though; I woke up in his arms.
And I liked it.
Guilt and frustration sweep through me. I feel like I’m betraying Abraxas just by standing here, but what choice do I have? There’s no door that I can see. The window leads to certain death. I’m naked and clueless and helpless. Again.
I am so fucking sick of being helpless!
I slap the prince, and he lets me. He exhales heavily and closes his eyes again. When he looks back at me, that deep melancholy is gone, replaced with frustration and a little bit of rage. He’s mad. I’ve thoroughly pissed him off.
“You will not go back to Jungryuk. If you continue to insist upon it, I will ask my father for a favor. He will obliterate it from existence for me. Would you like that? To know that hideous animal was incinerated? That his entire species was? That would certainly make me feel better.”
I swing a punch at his stomach, but he doesn’t allow my fist to connect. He snatches my wrist in his gloved hand, gritting his teeth. He exhales and spreads his wings, and the room is saturated with that cloying scent. Cardamom and honey. Again. It’s everywhere. I’m choking on it. My body reacts like I’ve spent hours in a candlelit room with a generous lover and copious foreplay.
I tuck my lower lip under my teeth and bite down as hard as I can. The pain helps, but when I open my eyes, I see that the prince’s gaze is on my mouth. The blood. Copper taints my tongue, and he squeezes my wrist so tightly that I cry out.
I’m released in an instant, and he steps back, turning to the doctor in the corner. Poor guy. Probably just trying to do his job. I don’t particularly care. If I can, I’ll stick a knife in his back, too. Right, Eve. Good idea. Start killing people on this ship and then what? Where will you go? How will you get out of here? I obviously don’t know the first thing about space travel. I don’t even know where we are in relation to Earth.
I am as trapped as I have ever been.
“What about the mate markings?” the prince—Rurik—inquires, and I get the idea that this conversation is for my benefit. “Can we remove them?”
I know immediately what he’s talking about: the purple spirals inside of me, the ones that glow. Just the mere mention of removing them puts me into a rage-inducing panic.
“I am not sure, Your Imperial Highness, but I will look into it.”
“See to it that you do.” The prince grits his teeth and then waves his hand in a stiff-necked and authoritarian way. “Leave us.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The man offers a formal bow, spreading his wings behind him. His antennae tuck close on either side of his head before he drops to one knee, brushing a finger against his lower lip and then rising like he’s done this a million times before. As he turns away, I see that his wings are not the pristine white of the prince’s. They’re decorated with a complex pattern in a brilliant bloodred color. I shift against the wall, and my arm accidentally touches one of the ship’s pulsing veins.
It’s warm.
I gag.
“You violated me while I was asleep,” I whisper, hating how upset I am by the idea. It all seems very clinical, but the thought that these two men were looking into my vagina without my permission, while I was unconscious and unable to defend myself, it makes me sick. Not just that. But those markings? My mating with Abraxas, it’s the most intimate and personal experience I’ve ever had.
I think about him, about how we sat and watched the rain together just yesterday. I think about all the wonderful and impossibly true things he said to me, about me.
“All of the things that make you alien are the things I cherish most.”
“It was not intended to be a violation; it was a routine examination carried out in my presence by a medical professional.” That’s his lofty, half-hearted response. He’s still staring at my mouth, the slits of his nostrils flaring at the smell. “You were put in the med bay and scanned, given a translator, and provided with synchronicity contacts, as I explained. Nothing untoward occurred toward your person.”
“You don’t think kidnapping a naked woman against her will and looking inside her pussy is untoward?” I’m shocked. Not at his response—it’s expected—but rather, I’m shocked that I’m shocked. Does that make sense? This guy has no reason to be anything but awful, but somehow there’s a voice inside me telling me that he isn’t. That he shouldn’t be. That he’s somehow mine, and I’m his, and I cannot fucking stand the absurdity of it.
“You made it necessary by mating an Aspis.” This is said like an accusation, and you know what the worst part is? It feels justified, like I betrayed him somehow. He certainly thinks it, and whatever odd shit is going on between us, I feel like it’s true, too.
“You made it necessary by purchasing the wrong woman,” I shoot back, remembering the day in the tent. He tasted my blood, was attracted to my blood, but he took Avril and left me there. That feels like a betrayal, too. “And you know what? I have no idea what alien hypno-psychosis shit you’re doing to me, but I hate the fated mates trope.”
He blinks at me with dark lashes against white skin. That black V-shaped pattern between his eyes only emphasizes how incredibly attractive he is. Not human, not really. But … beautiful.
“Fated mates?” he repeats, fixated on that part of the conversation. “There is but one female in the entirety of life and existence whose blood I can consume, whose body can fit with mine, who can produce and bear my children. You are it. The only one. You dare reject me?”
My head spins with all the things he’s just said. They feel true, and that disgusts me.
“You’re a parasite,” I hiss back at him. “A world eater.” Whatever that means. “Get out of my head and leave me alone! Are you delusional or something? I don’t fucking want you.”
He punches the wall again, right beside one of those pulsing veins, and he gets right up in my face. The smell of him is intoxicating to the point of distraction. It’s hard for me to even remember why I don’t want to be here. Abraxas. Please be okay. Please, please, please. I have the distinct feeling that if he dies, I’ll no longer feel the urge to live.
“I wished to establish a relationship with you first, but I am quite literally starving. I will make you a deal.” Rurik stands up straight, reaching up to brush his fingers over the bloodred fur below his throat. I’m pretty sure it’s a part of his body and not simply decorative. “Let me feed from you, and I will gift you a human companion.”
My eyes widen.
“Jane?!” I ask, because if everything else goes to shit, shouldn’t I at least be able to see my best friend? Please don’t let it be Tabbi Kat, I think, my eyes narrowing. Wouldn’t that just be the pits? I should’ve left her in the slaver’s cage on the side of the road.
The prince frowns, and it’s an absurdly human expression. How does he know to do that?
“Avril,” he repeats, just like he did in the market. Ah, right. That makes sense. His eyes meet mine again, and I want to cry. I don’t know why. There’s just something oddly tragic about him, about us, about this entire situation. “The one who was dressed entirely in your blood.”
