The Alien King’s Prey (Royal Aliens 1)

This was not over.

Chapter 2

Days earlier…

Twenty-four bodies swayed through the motions of the mating dance performed before the king.

Lyrical and smooth, then hard and quick, sharp snapping motions followed by fluid undulations, silk and blade whipping through the air. Nubile female dancers spun over one another’s shoulders as the drums slammed deep beats through the bodies of all in attendance, a thrumming resonance so low and intense that the weak could lose control of themselves.

These were the most beautiful women in the kingdom, every one of them nubile, fertile, and willing brides for the king. Their dances had been prepared years in advance, practiced for months, all in aid of this display. They presented themselves through the dance, their bodies oiled, their breasts painted, their eyes smudged dark and their faces marked with the distinct tattoos of their tribes.

Some of them had wings upon their backs, others had horns growing from their heads. Each and every one of the females was blessed with a beautiful mutation, one of which would be passed to her offspring if they were fortunate enough to emerge from royal lines. Mating with the king was not just an honor. It did not only represent riches and power and status. It also meant a genetic legacy.

So the young females, those of breeding age, chosen from among their people as the most beautiful of their kind competed against one another in the rhythmic dance. They splayed their wings, tossed their heads to show the beauty of their horns. They batted their lashes and shimmied their hips, they flared their dorsal ridges and displayed bold patterns. It was an unashamedly carnal display which inflamed the desires of all who were present. The courtiers and nobles stared at the beautiful, brilliant display, each and every one of them jealous to the core, hoping that the king would leave them some scraps.

The old king had a habit of taking every female presented and inseminating them all. He was free with his seed, and produced a great many worthy heirs. Then he had died, and those heirs had gone to war with one another. It had been a long, brutal, and bloody battle.

In the end, there could be only one. That one was now sitting on the throne watching the dance: Archon.

The odds that the ignobly born Archon would ever take the throne were so vanishingly small that it was almost impossible - and yet he had been crowned not three months earlier in a ceremony which drew consternation and celebration across the kingdom. There was no doubting his claim to the throne. He bore many of the marks of the Energon across his body. There was also no doubt that the other contenders for the throne were very much dead. There was, however, some doubt as to how long a creature like Archon could stay seated on the throne of Archaeus.

It was not a concern the king himself shared.

King Archon hid a yawn behind a massive scarred palm.

“Which of the maidens captures your eye, my king?” Brimsley, an old courtier, head of household, keeper of the king’s chamber, and many more titles besides, leaned in toward Archon, his frail personage the complete antithesis of the massive king who made the traditional throne creak whenever he took it. It had been reinforced several times by the throne makers, but Archon grew more massive with every battle victory, adding fresh muscle and new bone every time he was injured. He had grown to almost nine feet according to the royal tailors, who despaired of clothing their monarch who rarely bothered to wear clothes anyway. It was all they could do to get him into pants, never mind a shirt.

Archon was a brute king. A bastard king. A king without diplomatic interest, or culture, or education, but possessing more wit and intellect than the entire court put together. He was also universally considered incredibly handsome.

There was a notable gold and red scaling over his shoulders and chest. It also ran over the back of his neck, and over the bicep areas of his arms, emphasizing all the most powerful parts of the king. Scaling was considered to be the mark of a very powerful king in the realm of Archaeus over which he ruled.

His face was particularly striking, notable for its relative simplicity. He walked among aliens with all manner of horns and swirls, big dark eyes and long sharp fangs, and still managed to stand out among them because his visage was strong, a smattering of scale over his forehead and down the bridge of his nose, his pupils vertically narrowed, but otherwise almost… a word whispered in the corners of his court… human.

In response to the courtier’s question, Archon’s dark brows rose a fraction, the bright blue of his gaze flaring for a moment as he allowed himself a swift and clearly disinterested glance across the dancing females.