Page 61 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

My brave, damaged mate, willing to walk back into her nightmares to save others. The beast within growled approval even as it demanded we spirit her far away from danger.

But that wasn’t who she was. And it wasn’t who I wanted her to be.

My mate wanted to bring down a city. And I would help her do it, because the alternative was watching her try alone.

Ashur cleared his throat. “The new moon’s in three days. Darkness will help.”

“We’ll need time to prepare.” Mila stood. “We can’t exactly waltz in looking like this.”

She gestured at her fine Shakai garments. True enough - we’d need to blend with Terr’s common folk.

“Tomorrow then.” I met each of their eyes in turn. “We can be in the forests around the city by the dark of the moon if we ride hard.”

They nodded, warriors all in their own ways.

As they filed out to begin preparations, Niam turned in her chair to face me. “You’re really going to help? Not try to stop me?”

I grasped her hands, bringing them to my lips. “I told you once - you’re not alone anymore. Where you go, I go. Even into darkness.”

NIAM

Dawn slipped through the shutters in thin golden lines. I breathed in Tharon’s scent - spices and leather and something wild underneath. His arms wrapped around me, one hand splayed possessively across my stomach. The steady thud of his heart against my back anchored me to this moment, to this reality where I wasn’t alone anymore.

I traced my fingers along his forearm, memorizing the texture of his skin. His breathing changed instantly - going from the deep rhythm of sleep to full alertness in a heartbeat. The predator never truly rested.

“Morning,” I whispered.

He nuzzled into my neck. “Did you sleep?”

“Some.” I rolled to face him. In the dim light, his features softened, losing some of their usual harsh control. “You?”

“Enough.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “We should get up. The others will be here soon.”

I pressed closer, not ready to face the day yet. “Five more minutes.”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “As my queen commands.”

But the sounds of the inn waking filtered through our temporary sanctuary - boots on wooden stairs, voices in the hallway, the clatter of cookware from below. Reality intruding.

“Niam.” Tharon’s voice went serious. “Are you certain about this?”

“Yes.” I met his gaze. “I have to do this. Or the nightmare will never end.”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Then we do it together.”

The sudden pounding at the door made me jump.

“If you two are done being disgusting, there's still plenty to get done!” Mila called through the wood.

I groaned and buried my face in Tharon’s chest. “I’m starting to regret asking for their help.”

“No, you’re not.” He traced the line of my cheek before rising. “Come on. Time to turn warriors into workers.”

The large chamber we’d commandeered for preparations looked like a merchant’s stall had exploded. Piles of coarse fabric covered every surface - rough-spun shirts and pants in various shades of mud brown.

Ashur held up a shirt between thumb and forefinger like it might bite him. “We’re really wearing these?”

“Would you prefer the guards recognize you instantly?” Mila snatched the garment from his hands. “Now strip.”

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