Bride of the Alien Prince: Alpha Alien Romance (Alpha Aliens of Fremm Book 2) Read online

  Bride of the Alien Prince

  Alpha Aliens of Fremm 2

  Nancey Cummings

  Table of Contents

  The Story So Far

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  What’s Next?

  Also Available

  About the Author

  Copyright

  The story so far:

  The kompli-komplan mate bound is so rare and precious that most people didn’t believe it existed. Prince Aster found it with the Earth woman Evie. He couldn’t let her go.

  So he claimed her and took her aboard his ship.

  At the time, Evie wore nothing more than a bedsheet. She was less than thrilled with Aster but also incredibly drawn to the powerful alien warrior.

  Now Aster returns to his home planet with his prize to face the consequences of his rash actions.

  Note: It is not necessary to have read Claimed by the Alien Prince to enjoy this book, but you missed out on a lot of steamy fun. Go get it!

  Chapter One

  Aster

  Morning.

  Fremm.

  I woke in my farmhouse, the place I considered my home when I was not aboard my starship. Now I realized this was just a place to eat and sleep.

  I was next to my mate. A warm sense of well-being flooded me, covering me and I reached for her. Home was with her, planet side, in a ship among the stars, anywhere. I have everything with her and nothing without her.

  I pushed away thoughts of the rest of the day like I pushed away the sheets covering her exquisite form. We’re here in the now, and now it was only us, my mate and I.

  My left arm was under her, holding her voluptuous form to me. My right hand was busy exploring the soft curves. She’s a marvel, more beautiful and perfect than anything else in creation.

  Evie stirred, blinking her wide, dark eyes at me. “Good morning, love,” she said, voice groggy and husky.

  It was the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

  My response was a low growl, my need for her so overwhelming I couldn’t form the words. I buried my face in the crook of her delicate neck. Her scent was invigorating, this exotic mixture of honey, sunshine and a deeper note of nuts, some Terran variety I’ve tasted once that lingers on my tongue.

  She shivered when I licked the cords of her neck, my tongue and mouth moving down her velvety caramel skin to the rise of her breasts. My tongue rolled over the rosy nubs on the firm globes but I focused on the underside. I craved this spot where I can feel the weight of her full breasts resting on my mouth.

  “Don’t we have a busy day?” she asked between gasps.

  My hand slid down her soft stomach and rested the apex of her thighs. Instinctively, they parted. Already wet, I noticed with a grin. I stroked her delicate flesh, spreading that eager wetness. She purred.

  One finger pushed into her tight channel, inner muscles gripping my digit with searing heat. I moaned and she responded with a deep kiss, silencing me. I worked my finger in and out of her, letting her roll her hips and matching her rhythm. Another fingers slipped in. She needed to be ready to accept all of me.

  I watched my mate, her eyes fluttering shut and a rosy glow of pleasure to her cheeks. Her chest heaved with each thrust. I tried to capture a harden nipple in my mouth. What I wouldn’t give for another pair of hands to touch her, to squeeze and caress every part of my mate, my kompli.

  My hand came back in a long stroke, rubbing her sensitive nub before plunging in. Her hips bucked uncontrollably, nearing climax. Her inner muscles gripped my fingers with a satisfying strength and she cried out my name.

  How can a man not crave this?

  I hitched her leg over my thigh, exposing her and position my cock near her entrance. The heat radiating from her was enough to make me come. I pushed in and her tightness was overwhelming.

  Evie gasped in surprise and exhaled slowly.

  So I wasn’t the only one amazed.

  She’s a dream. This human woman was an intoxicating combination of softness and strength. As I pushed into her, giving her my entire length, she pushed back, moving with me. Muscle hidden under those heady curves moved in unison with me. We fit together perfectly. She was a masterpiece made for sex, made for me, and I can never get enough.

  My left arm squeezed her tightly and I rolled onto my back, bringing her to the top. Evie squealed in delighted surprise. The satisfying weight of her positioning herself, legs astride me, and she didn’t break our rhythm. Every curve, every hair, every part of her glorious.

  She sank upon the length of my cock, enveloping me and I closed my eyes, moaning. So tight and unbelievably hot, I couldn’t last much longer. All the trouble, the protocols circumvented, engagements broken, were worth the price I must pay if I am allowed to wake every day next to my kompli.

  Each hand was under her ass and I lifted and lower her on my cock, pushing her harder as I slammed up into her. She bounced, tits thrust forward and I wished again for more hands, for a way to be closer, to touch more of her.

  Every sensation was electric and I couldn’t contain myself.

  “Aster!” she cried, trembling with climax.

  A few more thrusts and I released deep into her, tension and every thought in my head vanishing.

  Evie rolled to the side and snuggled next to me, hand resting on my chest. My blue skin glowed from our contact but her skin remains an unblemished caramel mystery.

  “Good morning, my mate,” I said.

  “Big day today.” Her voice is flat, guarded. There is no way to be certain what she is thinking from tone alone, but I know she was nervous.

  Today was the day Evie meets my parents.

  Chapter Two

  Evie

  Aster watched me with alert eyes as I dressed. My limited wardrobe left a lot to be desired. I arrived on his ship two months ago in nothing more than a bedsheet, after all. I picked up a few items at Stasjon Station but nothing was nearly good enough to meet his parents, the King and Queen of Fremm. We arrived at Aster’s farmhouse, Bitterot, two days ago. There hadn’t been a huge opportunity for shopping. I settled on a simple navy blue dress, flattering and modest.

  “What’s the plan for the day?” I asked.

  Aster came up behind me, placing his large hands on my hips. His lips were at the nap of my neck. “My parents will join us for dinner in the evening. I thought you could cook something delicious.”

  I smirked and wiggled away. “So drown them in butter and salt until they forget to be upset with you?”

  “No drowning.”

  Sarcasm was lost on my big blue man.

  “I mean,” I said, “impress them with my cuisine.”

  “Tomorrow will be the engagement dinner,” Aster said.

  A formal event by the sound of it. Definitely nothing to wear. “And then we can leave?”

  Aster rubbed the back of his hand on his chin before nodding. The marks burning on his ears, neatly obscured with his long navy hair, said he was withholding info
rmation.

  “What is it you are not telling me?” I asked.

  “My mother,” he started, then hesitated. “She is hard to please.”

  Sound like a typical mother-in-law to me. “And pleasing her is my prerogative?”

  Aster’s arms captured me again. “My only concern is pleasing you, my mate.” His lips claimed mine, erasing my questions.

  I pulled away. “I need to talk to you about my clothing situation.”

  “A wardrobe should arrive today,” Aster said. “You can pick anything you desire.”

  Of course, a prince didn’t go shopping. The shop came to him. What does one wear when meeting the royalty? “What should I wear tomorrow?”

  “Traditionally, nothing. Fremm women go naked as a sign that she is safe.”

  “Not happening.” So not happening. Aster had a healthy appreciation of my figure but I’m not exactly slender. No one needs to see the way my butt jiggles when I walk.

  Bitterot Farm was Aster’s home when planet side. A small staff kept it operational, raising a sheep-like creature, the tauter, only purple and angry. I found this out the hard way when one of the beasts lunged at me through a fence. Fortunately, it was a sturdy fence and the tauter merely glared at me. I wonder if you can eat tauter like mutton.

  The main house was an old stone building, two rooms up and two down, and tilted slightly to the left. The white washed building was cozy and comfortable with the fireplaces going. Smaller buildings on the property included the caretaker’s house, the guest house, a barn, and a few sheds. I hadn’t had time to fully explore the property yet but Aster gave a walking tour of the main features.

  The kitchen was a mix of modern convenience and antiquity. I stoked the fireplace. Hard to believe this was summer on Fremm. I started coffee and breakfast. Nothing fancy, just eggs, toast and a smoked fish Aster was partial too. Waiting for the coffee to brew, I admired the view out the window.

  Bitterot perched on the side of a mountain, just where the land became too rough for farming but perfect for tauter. Daylight, real daylight, not artificial lighting, streamed into the kitchen. Beyond the windows was an expanse of a deep, calm fjorde and the sharp climb of the mountains. The sun shone in the cloudless sky with brilliance. The view was breathtaking.

  Dinner. I could ask Aster what his parents enjoy and make it but that could be perceived as brown nosing. If I made Aster’s favorite, I would be subsuming myself to him, and that’s not the message I want to send. Any decision I made could be skewed and manipulated. Politics were no fun at all.

  The only thing I can do is please myself.

  I’ll make my favorite meal: spaghetti and meatballs. Not fancy but comforting and satisfying. Desert should be a caramel, Aster’s favorite Terran sweet.

  Nodding to myself, I made a list on a glass tablet and sent it to Chem, who was staying in the guesthouse. A minimum crew manned Aster’s ship docked in orbit. The rest of the crew had shore leave. As fantastic as it is to breathe fresh, non-recycled air, I hope we can get this over with and get back to the ship.

  Aster and Chem left after breakfast for the palace. At Bitterot, it was easy to forget that Aster was a prince and had responsibilities. On the farm, it was just us.

  At mid-morning a tailor named Jaren arrived with wardrobe selections for me. Fast enough to make my head spin, my measurements were taken and a dizzying array of garments, in every color imaginable paraded into the room. When I reached for something colorful, the tailor would make a throat clearing noise. Huh. Clearly shopping for an audience with royalty was beyond me. After an hour of this and getting little results, I gave up.

  “It’s all wonderful,” I said, sitting down in a chair, “but my typical outfit is comfortable pants and a white chef’s coat. I’m afraid I do not share your sophistication or taste level.”

  Jaren nodded, a pleased grin on his face. Such a snob.

  “Please send me whatever is suitable. I trust your judgement. You have my measurements.”

  “As you will,” Jaren said. With a wave, the rest of the staff bundled up the wardrobe.

  I took a walk about the property to clear my head. My ambling took me past the tauter enclosure and up the mountainside until I reached a stone fence. I headed back to the farmhouse, panting from exertion. Walking in real gravity was exhausting.

  In the afternoon, Chem arrived with the list of groceries I sent him.

  “How do I go to the market for myself?” I asked, watching the azure blue man with short, nearly black hair set the bags on the table.

  “You don’t, Princess. You send me.” His back was stiff and he didn’t turn to face me. Chem didn’t like me much but he was Aster’s oldest friend and second in command on the ship. We would learn to get along, but maybe not at this moment.

  I prepared the meal, starting with the sauce. A good sauce needed hours to simmer, filling the house with the aroma of tomatoes and garlic.

  The kitchen had a good layout for my work flow. The counters and cabinets were built to Fremmian height, which left me feeling like a child clambering around without adult supervision. The large windows above the sink and stove let in plenty of light. I just can’t get enough sunshine. A language learner program played over the house’s computer network. I repeated vocabulary and how to asked directions to the library while I chopped.

  Time for the caramel. I added sugar to water to make a simple syrup, then cream, butter and more syrup. I set the burner and ordered the computer to monitor the temperature. The caramel need to be chewy and not brittle. Quickly, I prepared a two heads of garlic and separate the cloves, picking off the papery skin. The caramel bubbled and turned the correct shade. I stirred it, adding vanilla and salt.

  Then I carefully poured the hot, sugary mess into a prepared baking dish. The caramel flowed smoothly. As the last touch, I dropped in the cloves of garlic, spacing them apart. The dish went into the blast cooler. Quickly, the caramel set.

  I took the dish and turned it upside down, dumping the hardened caramel to a cutting board. Quickly cut into pieces, I wrapped the individual caramel in wax paper.

  The backdoor opened and Aster came behind me, wrapping his large hands around my hips and placing his mouth on the back of my neck, teeth nibbling the skin. I dropped my work and closed my eyes, reveling in the warmth of my mate pressed behind me.

  I turned around in his arms and his mouth claimed mine. Desire flared in my core. My hand brought a fresh caramel covered garlic clove and fed it to my mate.

  His mouth worked the chewy candy and his dark eyes lit up with delight. Fremms take the hand feeding thing very serious and Aster was partial to caramel. “What is this wonder?” he asked, licking his lips.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Mmm.” He grabbed my hand and licked my fingers, cleaning any trace of caramel residue. “It's good but not as good as you.”

  I can’t begin to describe the delicious way knees got wobbly when Aster put the length of my fingers in his mouth and gently sucks. Oh my. I was instantly wet and needed him, now.

  Aster tugged down the front of my dress, revealing my bra. In a smooth motion, he freed my breasts, rosy buds already tight. He took each in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive skin, contracting the nipples even harden. A moan escaped the back of my throat and I tried to remove his shirt. Despite being technically on leave from his ship, Aster continued to wear the flat gray military style uniform.

  The edge of my fingernail parted the smart fabric like water. Torso bare, his abdomen glowed with concentric circles, radiating out almost like a sunburst. I ran a finger over the burning mark, marveling at how his skin reacted to my touch.

  “What does this pattern mean?” I asked.

  Aster took my hand and kissed my fingertips gently. “This is the mark of a mate bond.”

  “Does every bonded mate have this?”

  “Each pattern is unique,” Aster said. He took my hand and placed it over his navel. He glowed brighter there. “This
is for you alone. As we share our life together, it will get more complex.”

  I remembered the pattern on his abdomen the first night we meet. Something was there but not this elaborate. “Just for me?”

  He leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine. “All yours.”

  The comm unit on his wrist beeped.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing important,” Aster said, not glancing at the device. With ease, Aster lifted me to the counter and parted my thighs. His thumb brushed the soaked cotton of my panties. “Is this your last pair?” he asked, fingers working between the fabric and my skin.

  “I have plenty,” I said, voice nearly a moan.

  He curled his fingers and ripped the fabric. Raising the torn red panties to his face, he took a long sniff, a devilish smile on his lips with a hint of fang showing. I was in trouble now.

  “I didn’t realize you planned to pass a whore off as a prince’s wife,” a harsh voice said.

  Aster immediate turned around and stood stock straight, the ball of red fabric fell to the floor. The bulk of his body hid me. I jumped down from the counter and furiously rearranged the dress to cover myself.

  I recognized the woman standing in the doorway from news programs: Queen Baris, second wife of King Emre of Fremm.

  “Mother,” Aster said, voice cold and uncomfortable.

  Baris was a tall, thin woman with a stern expression. She wore a tight fitting grey jacket and form fitting white pants with knee high grey boots. While clearly a mature woman with silver grey in her navy hair, her beauty was striking. The queen shared the same sky colored complexion as her son and even the same soft lips, pressed tight in displeasure.

  Self-conscious now, I smoothed back my hair and the front of my dress. Did the computer announce a visitor and we were too distracted to hear? We have got to get a doorbell on the cottage.

  The queen approached slowly, casting her gaze around the room, judging and finding fault. She took a moment to peer in the bubble sauce pans and sniffed, frowning heavily. Finally, she turned to me and said, “You wear slave colors.”