Page 14 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

The moment we board my ship, Lara’s presence burns against my awareness like a brand. The ribbons connecting us pulse with each beat of my heart, sending jolts of electricity through my already overstimulated nerves.

Every slight movement draws the bonds taut between us, a constant reminder of how she felt pressed against me in the market, her lips soft and yielding under mine.

Each tug of the ribbons sends electricity racing through my veins, reminding me how perfectly she fits against me.

The memory floods my senses—the way she melted into me despite her defiance, the sweet snowfly honey taste of her.

“Welcome back, Your Lordship,” Cyan’s voice rings out with theatrical flair that sets my teeth on edge.

“Hello, Cyan.” I force my tone to remain neutral despite the knowing lilt in her voice.

“And welcome to your...guests.” The pause before the last word drips with enough irony to fill an ice field. “Shall I prepare the private quarters for any extended discussions?”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek for an instant, silently damning how well the AI knows me. “That won’t be necessary.”

Khrint and Tenyt exchange glances that make me want to freeze them both solid. The cramped bridge suddenly feels impossibly small, every breath bringing Lara’s scent closer.

Even now, this new bond pulses between us with echoes of that dangerous intimacy, and my cock hardens painfully. Behind me, Lara shifts her weight, her breath catching in her throat as the echo of my thought flashes down the magical connection between us, flashes star-hot, the power of it enough to make me bite back a groan.

I stride toward the captain’s chair, seeking refuge in command. “Cyan, please initiate launch protocols.”

“Of course, Your Lordship.” Her tone carries barely suppressed laughter. “Though your core temperature suggests you might prefer to delay cryosleep...”

The frost beneath my fingers spreads. “The launch sequence. Now.”

Delay cryosleep…

Oh, Goddess, I desperately want to do just that. To wait until everyone else is unconscious, then push Lara up against the nearest bulkhead and claim her. To hear those little gasps and moans she tries so hard to suppress. To feel her warmth surrounding me, melting my careful control until there’s nothing left but raw need and pounding desire.

Khrint begins moving through his segment of the pre-flight checks with practiced efficiency while Tenyt fumbles slightly with the unfamiliar controls. The ship’s hum does nothing to distract me from the maddening awareness of Lara’s presence.

“This isn’t possible,” Izzy whispers, taking in the crystalline control panels before sliding between her sister and me with dangerous perception. “Flying saucers aren’t real.”

“Yeah, well,” Lara says, and Goddess help me, even her voice sends desire pooling low in my gut, “he’s not just some creepy fairy tale nobleman. He’s also?—”

“A monster?” I interrupt, even as my chest tightens at her assessment. The temperature around me drops several degrees.

But she’s not wrong. Every slight movement of the ribbons makes me ache to drag her somewhere private—to put every other person aboard into cryosleep and spend the entire journey showing Lara exactly what kind of monster I can be.

“Speaking of monsters,” Cyan chimes in cheerfully, “your biothermal readings are quite fascinating, Your Lordship. Shall I share the data?”

“Preparing for launch,” I growl through clenched teeth.

“Though our new guests seem less than enthusiastic about space travel,” she continues blithely. “Perhaps some hands-on instruction?—”

“Khrint.” I cut her off before she can finish that thought. “The stasis fruit.”

My valet’s lips twitch as he retrieves the crystal container. Another meaningful look passes between him and Tenyt that makes me seriously reconsider the benefits of having a crew.

As I attempt to ignore how every slight movement from Lara sends awareness dancing across my skin, the ribbons connecting me to her pulse again, and my vision blurs. The urge to drag her into my arms and finish what we started in the market grows stronger with each heartbeat.

To finish it—finish her—as I did that night in the gallery, when she shattered against my mouth, surrender and rebellion warring in those amber-flecked eyes. The way she pressed against me, hot and eager, grinding and mewling, practically begging me to make her come. The way she looked at me afterward, flushed and disheveled, yet somehow still untamed.

“Core temperature continuing to rise,” Cyan announces. “Shall I activate emergency cooling protocols? Or perhaps?—”

“That’s enough.” Frost crackles across every surface I touch.

“If you say so.” Cyan’s skepticism fills the bridge. “Though I note certain areas of your?—”

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