Page 81 of The Thren's Fated

What couldn’t those tentacles do?

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice pitched high with concern.

Lena nodded, a blissful smile on her face, every muscle relaxed to the point she felt like gelatin.

A tentacle petted through her messy hair, tilting her head up to look at him though her vision was still a bit fuzzy.

“I love you, Lena,” he said, the words jolting her back to awareness.

Emotion constricted her chest, though it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, she enjoyed the overwhelming feeling, the vulnerability that coursed through her as she tightened her grip around his neck.

“I love you too, Yavriel.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips and washing her in ecstasy once more.

EPILOGUE

Fourteen Months Later

“You look as beautiful as a rakiram blossom,” Screl said, the words warming her despite the chill coursing through her bones.

Lena smiled, squeezing his hand and steeling herself as they stood outside the door to the throne room at the palace on Botune.

It had been over a year since they had left the planet, escaping on a small ship provided by Princess Vottol.

The princess who was soon to be inaugurated as the new Thren sovereign.

The announcement of the previous Sovereign’s untimely death had been a shock, Screl going quiet for a few days as he processed the news. Equally shocking had been the message inviting them to Princess Vottol’s coronation, though Lena supposed that without his father there to ridicule and abuse, there was nothing stopping them from visiting the Thren homeworld.

They had taken their time on this trip, spending the day visiting the palace grounds, Screl pointing out his favorite flowers. Yes, the Thren she had once considered so frightening had specific flowers he was drawn to, yet another sweet fact that made Lena beam with joy.

She did look like a rakiram blossom, a cobalt blue bodice giving way to a sweeping emerald skirt mimicking the delicate flower. It was similar to the dresses she wore back on his first ship, though much less risqué, as this was a public event. She saved those old, sultry numbers for their quarters, a private place to enact the fantasies they were both so captivated by.

“Don’t be nervous, amoreth. The ceremony will be quick, and we will be parted for only a short while.”

Lena nodded, taking a deep breath as they awaited their turn to be announced.

This was a joyous day, and she didn’t want to let her nerves ruin it for Screl. He’d had a meeting with Princess Vottol this morning, the future Sovereign asking if he would like to be reinstated as one of the princes of Botune.

It had shocked both of them, though after a long discussion Lena had urged him to take the offer. Even with all that his father had done, she knew how important his family was to him, how important his diplomatic efforts with the Alliance were.

Princess Vottol had assured him that there would be minimal duties, little expectations beyond official functions, though he was welcome to restart his diplomatic relationship with Henios if he wished. He’d be free to live with Lena and continue his small but enterprising business taking mid-size shipments to and from the space station as well.

Lena joined him on his twice-monthly trips, enjoying the time away from Henios and a chance to explore new extraterrestrial planets. Between that and Ochin’s, she was busy, but loved every second of it, especially since most moments were spent with her fated.

As the pleasant memories of the past months flitted by, she was drawn back to the present, her pulse quickening as the doors whooshed open and the throne room was revealed. It was filled with Threns of all ages, many wearing elaborate robes similar to the silvery one Screl wore.

“PRINCE ROHIETH SCREL AND HIS FATED, LENA ASTRUM.”

The announcement echoed through the room, and a surge of joy raced through her, overcoming the anxiety as they walked arm in arm down the center aisle. The room looked so different packed with jovial Threns as opposed to the stark emptiness from the last two times she’d been here, though she didn’t miss the curious looks directed her way.

Still, to be honored in such a way, acknowledged as the rightful mate to the Thren walking beside her, was sublime. She could sense Screl’s elation as well, a comforting warmth that spread from where their arms touched and circulated through her entire body.

At the end of the aisle, he turned to her, giving her a kiss before ushering her to her seat. With a wink, Screl walked up the stairs, taking his rightful spot in front of his throne as he waited for the rest of his siblings to join him on the stage.

Pride welled in her, a tear trickling down her cheek at the view of her fated in his place of glory, free from the abuses of his father for good.

The ceremony had been like everything else she knew about Thren culture—minimalist and efficient.