Star Fallen : Claimed by the Alien Prince

—— Starbound✩ ——

The woman in my arms shouldn’t exist.

Human.

I’ve lived thirty-four cycles without touching one.

Without wanting to.

Until her heartbeat—too fast, too weak, too human—became the only rhythm my long ears could track through the jungle’s chaos.

Until her scent flooded my lungs—sweet, warm, impossibly human—and my cock twitches like it recognizes her.

Until now.

Humans are myths on Rau—soft-worlders who stumbled through portals and died screaming.

I shouldn’t have followed the jungle’s restlessness to the Throat of Veyra today.

Shouldn’t be carrying her broken body through shadow toward the lodge even my father doesn’t know exists.

Shouldn’t feel this roar building in my chest that drowns out every law, every duty.

But the moment my claws touched her skin—skin so soft I retracted instinctively, afraid I’d tear her—something inside me ROARED.

Vhara.

The word rises from somewhere that predates language, predates royalty.

It lodges in my chest like a blade forged to kill the man I was.

Cherished.

Claimed.

Chosen by something older than the moons themselves.

The laws of Rau are simple: what you can hold, you keep.

And I’m keeping her.

She shouldn’t have survived five minutes in jungle that devours warriors twice her size.

But she fell through a portal I felt rip the veil like a wound in reality.

Landed in my territory.

On my watch.

Broken and bleeding in the Throat of Veyra where the river plunges into blackness.

In my arms.

Mine.

—— 𖤓 𖤓 ——

I am Zeke, son of Dhum, blood-heir to the obsidian throne.

Seven feet of midnight fur and muscle carved by this jungle.

My long equine ears catch her pulse faltering at seventy beats—too slow for survival here.

Rau forged us from soft-skinned crash survivors three thousand years ago.

The ones who lived became predators who hear death coming before it breathes.

My eyes track the heat bleeding from her wounds.

My people hear heartbeats from a hundred paces.

Our claws rend armor—yet mine stay fully retracted as I cradle her like she’ll shatter.

—— 𖤓 𖤓 ——

The jungle knows I carry forbidden cargo. Vines whisper warnings. Moss dims—predators near, turn back, death ahead. My ears track everything—her weakening pulse, razorwings circling above, the groan of ironwood bending.

They smell her blood like a dinner bell.

I shift her weight—she’s nothing, physically. A scrap of softness against my chest. Each breath ghosts over my throat. Each shudder makes protective fury coil hot in my gut.

My hand spans her ribcage completely. Bones shift beneath my palm—cracked.

I move faster.

The path narrows.

I curl my body around hers so nothing touches her but me.

Her clothing hangs in shreds—thin fabric meant for gentler suns, softer worlds.

And there, catching the bioluminescent glow filtering through leaves: A thin band of metal circling her left ring finger.

I stop breathing.

Claimed.

The word slices between my ribs like a blade I never saw coming.

Someone out there is waiting for her.

Someone she chose.

Some weak off-worlder dared mark what’s mine before I even found her.

“Who gave you this?”

My claw traces the band—cold, smooth, insulting.

“Did he fight for you? Did he bleed?”

She doesn’t answer. Can’t.

“Good. Means I won’t feel guilty when I take his place.”

Rage coils—but beneath it, something colder.

What if she wakes and chooses the ghost on her finger over the prince in her flesh?

I want to rip that band free with my teeth, melt it down, erase every claim but mine.

But she’s dying and fury is a luxury I can’t afford yet.

Later.

When she wakes.

When she’s whole and healed and understands exactly who saved her, who claimed her, who she belongs to now.

I tighten my grip and move faster.

—— 𖤓 ☼ ——

The path to my lodge is long, through territory even my father’s hunters avoid.

The jungle throws everything at me.

Serpent vines coil left—warmth-seekers that would crush her.

Death-blooms glow right, petals black as rot.

Razorwings descend lower, braver.

I carry her through the razorvine instead.

It scores my thighs. Venom-itch burns where it cuts deep. Copper tang of my blood blends with hers in the humid air.

It doesn’t touch her.

Nothing touches her.

Not while I breathe.

Not while I have claws to rend and teeth to tear and a chest that still holds a heart beating only for her.

She whimpers softly against my throat.

The sound spears straight to my cock—small, broken, trusting in ways that make control fracture.

I should not want her like this.

Should not catalog how her breast curves beneath torn fabric or how her dark hair spills across my arm like silk begging to be tangled in my claws.

Control, Zeke. She’s dying and you’re rutting like a beast.

I am a beast. Seven feet of predator built for violence and claiming.

But I’m not a monster.

—— ☼ ☼ ——

The lodge rises from the jungle—hidden beneath ironwood roots, woven from shadow. My father’s hunters have passed within twenty paces and never seen it.

I carry her inside.

Ceiling high enough for me. Walls lined with furs and cultivated moss.

Safe. Secret. Mine.

I lay her down.

Too gently.

Like she’s made of something more precious than flesh.

Her head turns toward my body heat—unconscious, seeking. Instinctive submission.

The movement spears straight through my chest.

Silks and cured hides.

Soft things for soft skin.

Things I’ve never used because I never expected to need them.

Until her.

I tear strips from my own loincloth.

Hands shaking.

Claws fully retracted—I am crown prince. I could kill anything in this jungle.

But I’d rather lose a finger than accidentally cut her.

The gash on her thigh is deep, edges ragged like something with claws tried to open her from hip to knee.

Deep enough that I see bone.

It will scar.

She’ll wear this night on her thigh forever.

Wear me on her thigh forever.

I score my palm with one claw.

Press my blood into her wound.

Royal blood seals flesh faster than any medicine on Rau—but this isn’t medicine.

Blood-gift. It’s a vow written in cells.

The first step of royal bonding on Rau.

My father’s voice echoes:“Your blood is a vow. Give it only to those you’d die for. Give it only to your—”

He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.

Vhara.

The one meant for you.

The one the moons choose.

I look at her. Pale as moonlight. Delicate in ways that make my chest ache. Dying in my nest.

Mine.

My blood will tether her to me in ways she can’t refuse. And stars help me—I want her to try.

“You live,” I command.

Not a plea.

A decree.

Her wound knits beneath my palm.

Her breathing steadies.

And somewhere deep in her chest, where her heartbeat used to beat alone—

It beats with mine now.

As it should.

I also feel her arch—the way her spine curves, fitting my palm like Rau designed her for exactly this violation.

I seal the wound with pressure and salve made from glow-root.

Beneath the torn fabric, her breast curves against my knuckles. Soft.

Softer than anything on Rau.

I could pretend it’s necessary.

That I need to check each rib, ensure the wrapping holds.

But her nipple brushes my palm through the fabric, pebbling against my skin, and my cock throbs so hard I see stars.

I bind her ribs.

Slowly.

Learning the shape of her through every layer.

The bruises will fade.

The memory of my hands on her? That’s forever.

—— ☼ ⚪ ☽ ——

Outside, something screams—a razorwing, maybe, or one of the bone-crushers that prowl at dusk.

The jungle breathes with the sounds of things hunting and being hunted.

But beneath the screams, something else.

A rhythm—distant, pulsing—like the planet itself has a heartbeat.

And hers, fading in my arms, is learning to match it.

Everything feeds on everything here. That’s the law.

But not her.

She’s mine to protect.

Mine to tend.

Mine to claim properly when she wakes and understands what falling into my world means.

I finish my work. Sit back. Watch her breathe.

Steady now. Stronger.

Alive.

I did that.

I also bound her to me forever.

Two truths. One heart.

I settle beside the nest—close enough that my body heat reaches her, far enough that I won’t crush her if I sleep.

I won’t sleep.

My ears track every sound beyond the lodge. My eyes never leave her face.

Storm-gray eyes beneath fluttering lids. Full lips, parted. Dark hair tangled with river moss. That scar through one eyebrow—who hurt her?

She’s been hurt before.

Survived before.

She’ll survive this too.

—— ⚪ ⚫ ☽ ——

The triple moons rise outside—silver, lavender, crimson—bleeding light through root-gaps.

My people believe they see everything. Judge everything. Bless or curse based on what they witness.

Let them see me choose this fragile, impossible woman over duty, over throne, over every rational choice a crown prince should make.

She fell from the sky into my arms like destiny made flesh.

And on Rau, what the moons deliver, you don’t refuse.

In my arms, the star-fallen breathes softer now.

Trusting. Unaware.

I press my mouth to her hair.

“Sleep, star-fallen.”

“I’ll be here when you wake.”

She doesn’t know yet that I pulled her from the Throat of Veyra when leaving her would have been smarter.

Doesn’t know I carried her through jungle that kills warriors in minutes.

Doesn’t know my blood now runs in her veins, starting bonds she never consented to.

Doesn’t know yet that on Rau, when royal blood bonds with flesh, there’s no going back.

She’ll learn, all of it

She’ll learn what it means to be claimed by the son of Dhum.

She’ll learn the word vhara and why I speak it like prayer and possession both.

She’ll learn that on Rau, there are no accidents. No coincidences.

Only fate.

And she’s mine.

Lhar’va. Moons witness.

Forever.

Her eyelids flutter.

My entire body locks.

Heart slams against my ribs so hard I feel it in my teeth.

She’s waking.

She’ll see me.

She’ll be afraid.

The thought should make me pull back.

Give her space. Let her adjust.

Instead, I move closer.

Tower over her. Block the light. Make sure the first thing she sees—the only thing she sees—is me.

Her lashes part.

Storm-gray eyes meeting mine.

Unfocused.

She blinks.

My scent the first she’ll breathe.

My name the first she’ll learn to beg for.

—— ⚪ ⚫ ☽ ——

🖤 Welcome to Rau, babe. 🖤

If you woke up in Zeke’s nest tomorrow — would you scream? Or say YES DADDY ?