Page 26 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

The children leaned in, entranced. Even from here, I saw the spark in her eyes as she wove her tale. This wasn’t the haunted woman from the Temple. This was Niam as she should be - fierce and free.

I took a step forward. A twig snapped under my boot.

The children’s heads whipped around. One small girl squeaked at the sight of me, then they scattered like startled birds, giggling as they ran.

Niam stood, brushing dust from her knees. “You have quite the effect on them.”

“I...” Words failed me. I thrust the flowers forward. “These are for you.”

She stared at the purple blooms, then at me. A smile tugged at her lips. “The fearsome hunter brings me flowers?”

“If you don’t want them-”

“I didn’t say that.” She took them from my hand, her fingers brushing mine. The contact sent sparks along my skin, and I barely managed to shove down a growl. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

NIAM

The delicate purple blooms nestled in my hand, their petals brushing softly against my palm. Such an unexpected gesture from a warrior prince. A man who brought down a monster with his bare hands now offered me wildflowers like a village boy courting his sweetheart. “You surprise me.” I lifted the flowers to my nose, breathed in their sweet scent.

“Good surprises, I hope.”

The sleeve of his hunting jacket pulled back as he pushed his hair from his face. Dark stains marred the fabric - blood he’d tried to hide. My chest constricted.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That beast got you.”

“I got it first.” His lips curved up, pride and something darker in his expression. “No one will threaten you while I draw breath.”

That possessive note in his voice should have frightened me. Instead, heat bloomed low in my belly. Mahra’s words from earlier drifted back:“The Valti know their mates on sight. Their beasts recognize what their minds might deny.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Mates? Me? I was broken, used, my mind and body violated by the Temple’s integration. The metal ports in my skull might be gone, but the scars remained. How could I be anyone’s mate, let alone a Shakai prince’s?

And it didn’t matter.

The Temple still stood. Women still died in its chambers, their bodies and minds consumed by the ship’s endless hunger. I had to end it. That was my only purpose now.

A shout cut through my musings. “Prince Tharon! We need your tracking skills!”

Tharon’s jaw tightened, but he stepped back from me. His fingers brushed mine as he took one of the flowers, tucking it into a fold of my shirt with surprising gentleness. Then he strode toward the hunters, his broad shoulders tense with irritation at the interruption.

Mahra approached with a leather pouch in her hands. The fading sunlight caught on crystal shards woven into intricate patterns across its surface.

“For your device,” she said, pressing it into my hands. “My grandmother would have sworn that the crystals will keep it safe.” She grinned. “Even if that’s nonsense, they’re pretty enough.”

The leather warmed under my fingers, butter-soft and supple. Such care in the craftsmanship, each crystal precisely placed.

“Thank you.” I slipped my device inside, relieved to have somewhere safer than my robe to keep it.

Women moved through the camp, carrying bundles. One stopped to give me a small stack of clothes for both myself and Tharon - practical things in soft leather and wool. Another brought healing supplies - bandages, salves, dried herbs.

The generosity staggered me. In the Temple, there was never enough. Here, they gave freely.

My throat tightened as I accepted each gift. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing.” Mahra squeezed my shoulder. “We take care of our own.”

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