The Alien King’s Mate parts 15-16 (Double Update)

LILIAN

“Kiss you?” I blurt, reeling back.

The thought had never crossed my mind. I couldn’t picture kissing this man. Rising to my tippy-toes, resting my hands on his broad shoulders and becoming wrapped in his embrace.

It’s inconceivable.

“What are you talking about?” I demand.

He shifts his weight to one leg, looking frustrated. “A kiss will ensure to our people everything is well between us,” he says. “It will be quick.”

No, it won’t be quick, because I’ll be reliving it for days after.

He says he wants to ease his people’s concerns about us—about him claiming a human. But the realization of losing my home is still setting. It may be selfish, but I feel no urge to appease the people in this kingdom because I don’t see myself as their queen.

“Just think about it,” he says. “You have some time.”

There’s not enough time in the world to prepare me to kiss him.

“I’m going now. Do you need anything?”

I need a lot of things: my best friend, a dirty room to clean, and another soak in a pool.

“Art supplies,” I answer.

I haven’t painted in a long time because I lacked inspiration. When I was struggling with college, my paintings were dark and dull. Now I’m in the kingdom of twinkling gold and in the presence of a man that sparks bursts of red passion in me.

“You will have it,” he says and turns away.

I turn away, too. I walk into my closet-apartment that reminds me of home. As I sit with back against the closet door, I think of the king’s request. A kiss. Although his words were shocking, what truly shook me was the spark of excitement I felt at the thought.

I’m not sure if it was inspired by the mate bond, or if it’s a natural response to the king who fell to a knee to clean a hall with me. A king that comfortirted me.

My fingers twitch, craving a broom so I could sweep the invisible dust on the floor. I rush outside when there’s a knock at the door, eager to get my hands on a paintbrush.

The maid that brought me dinner is there, holding a journal, a set of paintbrushes and small jars of paint on a silver platter. It’s… strange, receiving simple items on a platter.

I thank her, and accept the platter, noticing how cold it is.

She walks away without lifting her head.

I move to the bed and flip the journal open. The pages are beige. Clear, crisp, and ready to capture life. I should have plenty to draw. After all, I’ve seen two worlds: Earth and Versai.

I dip a paintbrush into the yellow jar, but I’m unable to paint.

I used to have so much going for me. My business, therapy, and my best friend. Now I’m just an artist with more art on her paintbrush than on her blank canvas.

I toss the journal aside and get dragged back by my thoughts. I think of my meeting with Vulcan’s sister. Her accent was thick, but her message was clear as she raked her eyes up and down my body.

“That’s it? You’re the mate?” She asked, clearly unimpressed.

I nearly slammed the door in her face. I didn’t ask to be mates with her beloved brother. I know I’m not queen material.

Instead, I stared back, equally unimpressed by the Princess’ manners.

She clearly got the same backbone as her older brother. But if I can handle Vulcan, I can also handle her.

—-

The ceremony arrives quickly. I’ve stayed in my room, only going out to bathe. Vulcan always comes to escort me and bring me dinner. He’s trying to get close while respecting my space, and I appreciate that.

Our conversations have been cordial, but loaded with unspoken words. Now the same lips that I pursed in awkward silence while he was in my presence might have to press against his.

I don’t know if I can kiss him. It would certainly do no harm to reassure his people and lessen the pressure, but I don’t think I have it in me.

I went through the closet and found a dress. A maxi dress with no volume, long sleeves and scallop neckline. The color is a dark navy blue, and there are only decorative beads at the end of the skirt. This was the plainest dress I could find. Perfect for fitting in. Although hiding will be impossible, especially if I choose to kiss the victor. And Vulcan will definitely win. Those muscles and long horns demand nothing else.

I don’t know much about this ceremony—or anything about the culture, really. I’ve been inspired to learn by Vulcan’s sister and her judgement.

When Vulcan comes to pick me up, I play the same game of staring at the pristine floor. Servants watch me, but I don’t look up.

I’m so stressed I would wipe any speck I find with my very dress, but fortunately don’t find anything.

Vulcan doesn’t wear anything special, like this is a regular day. He leads me outside, my black sandals sinking into the dirt. I hear chatter from dozens of people and make the mistake of looking up. There are bleachers full of Versai. They wear their finest clothes and stare at me. I push a lock of hair behind an ear, wishing I had done more with it.

“My queen and mate, Lilian of Earth.” He says it in English and then Versai. He takes my hand and raises it. There’s hesitation before the crowd stomps on the bleachers—a rhythmic acceptance.

Vulcan leads me to the first row, sitting me beside the maid that often stops by my room. I find it sweet that he thinks her presence would soothe me.

There’s a square on the ground marked by rocks. Looking around, I see no trees and find that strange. Maybe they only grow on the lower level of the kingdom.

Vulcan chats with another male. He’s shirtless and his pants are tucked into his sturdy boots. This must be Vulcan’s opponent.

His eggshell-colored horns are long, but not as long as the king’s. I’ve also noticed no one else has gold horns.

My nails dig into my palm, although the match hasn’t begun and Vulcan calmly talks with his opponent.

“Lilian.”

I look up and find a Versai woman bowing, her blue dress brushing the dirt. She lifts her head and says nothing else because of the language barrier.

I smile shakily, and she leaves. A few others greet me, although most of the dozen stay in their seats. I’m glad I sit with my back to them. I couldn’t face the heat of their stares.

After Vulcan says a few more things in Versai, the crowd stomps—which is their way of clapping.

Vulcan shrugs his shirt off and a strained sound comes from the back of my throat. The sun seems to beam hotter, and I suddenly find inspiration to paint.

He’s magnificent. Chest sculpted to tear women apart. A weapon in the flesh.

The match starts, and it’s nothing like I expected. Violent punches and throws that drive the crowd wild. The stomping of their feet is almost as strong as my heartbeat. Watching the fight is agony. Vulcan is a strong male that holds his ground, but the few hits he absorbed nearly sent me running to him.

The mate bond is driving me crazy. Rising ridiculous feelings like protection. A male like Vulcan needs no protection from people like me. He can handle everything himself, if this fight is any indication.

The match only goes on for three minutes before I break a nail from digging my fingers into the wooded bench beneath me. I’m sweating and tense, although I’m not the one sparring.

When Vulcan sets a foot on his opponent’s chest, declaring victory, I shoot out from the bench and run across the field before I can think.

My shaking hands find his face. I cup his cheeks and push myself up to press our foreheads together. The warmth soothes the storm inside of me instantly. Peace fills me. And although I know the mate bond is taking advantage of me, driving me to these lengths, I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s safe and this is over.

Vulcan stiffens and steps off his opponent, pulling away to step over the male and embrace me.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

I realize the crowd has stopped stomping and is watching intently. They didn’t witness a kiss, but I wish they had. A forced, orchestrated kiss would have been better than this organic intimacy.

When I don’t answer, he shouts something to his people. A claim of victory, perhaps. He leads me away, giving me a tour of the palace as if to calm me.

We don’t speak about the exchange, but it replays in my mind. I can’t concentrate on anything else, especially since Vulcan is still shirtless.

We don’t speak about a lot of things. The secrets are multiplying.

— —

That night, I’m surprised when Vulcan comes to see me. He usually asks how dinner was, but it’s early and I haven’t eaten yet.

He tells me he wants me to meet his family over dinner. I know it has to happen eventually. I already met his sister.

He must have planned everything already, because earlier, he sent a dress with a simple note that said “gift.” The dress is beautiful. White and strapless and decorated with flecks of gold. Real gold that I ran my fingertips across as I thought about today.

I don’t ever want to see him fight again. It had been terrifying.

“Let me think about it,” I say.

“I’ll let you be, then. I’ll send your maid. She can escort you if you choose to dine with us.”

I nod, and he leaves me. As he promised, the maid knocks on my door minutes later. I pace the room and occasionally touch the dress.

Choosing to get it over with, I change into the dress and wear white sandals. I put my hair in a bun and rub my hands down the silky, but weighted material. I’m wearing gold. Me. The girl who didn’t go to any prom is wearing the most precious gown.

When I step outside, the maid looks at me but quickly adverts her gaze. I pull my neckline higher, afraid I’m showing too much cleavage.

We walk down the halls until I reach a dining room. I spot Vulcan instantly. Sitting at the head of the table with horns glinting under the candlelight. There are others here I don’t recognize.

They turn to look at me, and I’m met with shocks of surprise and…horror? Vulcan stands up and looks at me in disbelief.

I take a step backward, ready to run.

“Lilian… where did you get that dress?” Vulcan asks and clears his throat.

“I thought you sent it? Did I mess up? Am I not supposed to wear gold?”

“That’s not gold,” he says. “That’s pyrite. It’s… a worthless material. Fool’s gold, as humans call it.”

So I stand here looking like a fool? But if Vulcan didn’t send this to me, then who did?

I hear a chuckle behind me. It’s her. Vulcan’s sister.

With my heart pounding, I spin around and head for the door. Our arms brush when I pass her, and she falls backward.

I reach for her, but she falls into a statue and cries out.

Chairs creak as her family rises. His sister rambles with tears in her eyes and Vulcan shouts back at her.

“Fuck!” He says, helping her up.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t push her,” I plead.

Our touch wasn’t hard enough to knock her to the ground, but I can’t think straight with all the voices filling the room.

“Fuck,” Vulcan says again as his sister stomps off.

“What is it?” I whisper.

He raises a hand to silence his family in the background. “Lilian, royals are untouchable. You will be punished.”

Punished?! But I hardly pushed the girl!

I look away from Vulcan, finding the floor again. I cross my arms to hide my dress and my very existence.

I’m confused and frustrated. I want to go home.

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