Page 13 of Bound By the Alien King

“Who?”

She stayed silent and the question answered itself. They’d reached the sand bridge, he realized, the gleaming path to the colony gates already partially exposed by the receding waters. The tide was not yet at its ebb, but it would be soon. Reluctantly, he let her down.

“What will you tell them?” he asked, stalling the inevitable but unable to let her go until the last minute. Unable to keep his hands from stroking her shoulders, trailing over the edge of her bodice until his fingers grazed her bare throat where his bite, though mostly healed, was still visible.

“As little as possible. I doubt they’d enjoy the details.” Her mouth bunched in wry amusement as she looked up at him, her hands flat against the muscles of his abdomen. He did not let himself indulge in her dark humor, and she sobered quickly. “I will tell them what they believe already, that I am weak and helpless and was lucky to wash ashore after falling into the sea. It is not a lie, exactly.”

“If he hurts you—” he broke off, realizing how naïve he sounded. “When he hurts you, I will do my best to help. I will do whatever is in my power to get you as far from him as possible.”

“Who?” she asked blithely, but her tears gave her away. He caught them one by one, first with his fingers and then, when he could not keep up, with alternating kisses to her eyelids as he held her face in his hands and let her salt burn his lips.

“You did not debase me,” he murmured against her skin. “You did not. You honored me with your trust. You honored me with your blood. You honor me with your tears. I will not forget your strength, Aster. I will never forget you.”

With a soft, despairing cry, she pressed her mouth to his. He froze, lost in the frantic kisses she bestowed on him, hardly daring to breathe for fear he would interrupt her, like she was a wild thing he was trying to snare. She was tentative at first, but her shyness wore off, and she was soon rising up on her toes to demand more from him, sliding her hands into his hair as she kissed along his jawline up to his sensitive earlobe. It had his cock stiffening and his heart stuttering all at once.

This was an end. This was goodbye. This was—like nothing he’d known, and it seemed impossible that in mere moments it would all be gone, she would be gone, like the sea had given him a treasure and stolen it away again in one rushing wave.

When she returned to his mouth, still begging for more, he gave in, tugging her chin down so she opened for him, let him in to trace her teeth and dance with her tongue, let him devour her, let her scent and taste consume him until he was barely conscious of the night.

When she finally pulled back, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed, it felt like she took something with her.

“You’ve ruined me,” she murmured.

“No—”

She put her fingers to his lips, stopping him. “You have. I am forever changed by you.”

He could not refute it, so he did what must be done and let her go.

Chapter 8

The gatekeeper, drunk in anticipation of dawn and the end of his shift, didn’t ask questions, and Aster clutched her slapping skirts to dampen their sound as she wound her way through the circular, cobbled streets to her family home near the center of the colony. A tall, narrow house located in one of the best neighborhoods, it was the only proper place for the family of Ilvar Bowen, council lord, to live.

She crept around to the night door and didn’t even have to knock because Mithri already sat on the doorstep, her shoulders hunched over and shaking. Crying in the nightmaid way, silently and without tears.

“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Aster asked in a low voice, scanning her for any signs of injury. Had she been disciplined for Aster’s disappearance?

Mithri’s head snapped up. “Oh! Oh! It’s you! They said you’d drowned. That you walked into the sea like the Wave Wife, but I didn’t believe it.” She looked down at Aster’s sopping hem and frowned. “You didn’t, did you?”

Aster shook her head, surprised at how difficult it was not to tell her everything. Damir’s name was already on her tongue. “I fell,” she finally said. “But I washed ashore and walked back across the sand during ebb tide.”

The story felt wooden and incomplete, but Mithri accepted it immediately, bustling her into the house and up the back stairs to her bedroom to change into dry clothes, chattering all the while. “You would not believe the furor in this house. Your mother blamed your father for promising you to Herold. Honestly, we all did, but she was the only one courageous enough to say it aloud. He blamed her for falling asleep over her tea and letting you out of her sight. She screamed at him that she is a mother, not a jailer, and left to stay with her sister. You can imagine the way your father’s been since. Like a hurricane laying waste. He slept in his study tonight.”

So her mother had been faulted, not Mithri. Aster’s throat tightened with relief and love. Her mother was so brave. She’d pay for her opposition for moons, if not years.

Mithri tugged a nightdress over her head and then squeezed her in an impulsive hug. “Everyone will be so pleased you’re home. Do you need anything? A powder or tea or…?”

“A bandage for my foot, if you don’t mind. And something to eat if Cook has time.” Aster sank down on the feather bed, suddenly bone-tired, and gave Mithri a grateful smile as the nightmaid hauled the heavy bundle of wet wool out of the room.

She’d intended to stay awake for Mithri’s return, but she woke to the sound of loud voices outside her room, a bandage on her foot, and a plate of cold toast and jam by her side.

“She needs rest!” Mithri’s voice came from the other side of the door.

A thumping in the hall and then her father burst in, his collar unbuttoned and cravat untied. “Where have you been, child?” he demanded, his face reddening beneath a shock of wild and uncombed salt-and-pepper hair. He’d obviously come straight from an armchair where he’d fallen asleep.

“I told you. She fell into the sea and only by the mercy of the Night Mother did she drag herself back out again. Let her sleep, my lord!” Mithri begged before Aster could get any words out.

Lord Ilvar whirled on the nightmaid. “Did you check her ribbons?”