Stravon: Dark Star Princes, #1

By Suki Selborne

The Dark Star Prince is coming... for me

 

It was supposed to be a fun day out. A pleasure cruise in space, to see the stars. But our ship never made it home to Earth.

Five brutal alien princes invaded our ship. And they stole five Earth girls away.

The Dark Star princes rule the galaxy. They're fierce, cruel, and impossibly handsome. Prince Stravon plans to take me back to his palace for the royal mating ceremony. He wants me to give him an heir.

But what happens next shocks both of us...

Trouble has hit the Dark Star empire. And I'm right in the middle of it.

Will I ever make it home?


STRAVON is the first book in the DARK STAR PRINCES alien romance series. Each novel contains a standalone romance, and there is also a continuing storyline over the series that will resolve in Book 5.

Reading order:
STRAVON
THEMIS
RADEK
KODAL
ZERIN

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matrioshka Books
• Release date: Apr 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201804206

Book preview

1 LAINA

The ship’s viewing screen opens up to reveal the vastness of space.

Right at the center of the screen sits the Dark Star, gleaming like a smoky, dark gray jewel. Seeing that alien world so close takes my breath away.

Look! I whisper to my best friend Jo. The Dark Star! It’s so mysterious, isn’t it?

Jo’s looking at her phone. She just grunts.

I don’t know how she can keep her eyes off this incredible view. Especially since the space pleasure cruise was her idea in the first place. But I don’t say anything.

The tour guide begins his well-rehearsed speech. "Ladies and gentlemen, please cast your eyes over to the far left of the viewing screen. You’ll notice a pale blue glow around the edges of Quolvio. Or the Dark Star, as it’s more commonly known. He puts air quotes around Dark Star. Of course, as we know, Quolvio is not actually a star at all. It’s a planet. And the glow around it is reflected from the brightest of the five Quolvian moons. Five moons, like the five Quolvian princes."

He gives a little theatrical laugh, then walks across the screen to stand on the other side. I’m disappointed that he’s now blocking part of our panoramic view.

I don’t need to remind you folks that the empire we live under is run from this place, Quolvio. We all recently celebrated the fact that mighty Emperor Eox has ruled the United Galaxies now for thirty years. Right? Awesome fireworks over the old White House. He pauses for effect, then smirks knowingly at us. He winks as he says Eox’s heir, Prince Zerin, is said to be very much his father’s son.

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Emperor Eox is renowned for being a tyrant. Nice to know the empire will still be run by a total asshole when he’s gone. Not.

Unlike Prince Zerin, the other four princes will never have the chance to run our empire. Sucks to be them, right? He pauses for a split second. Not really. They do have plenty of power of their own. He throws out one arm toward the Dark Star. Each prince has his own personal palace, located in different regions of Quolvio. And they are all said to have their own… areas of interest.

He doesn’t elaborate further on these so-called areas of interest. I consider asking Jo if she knows what exactly the Dark Star princes do. But she’s snickering over a meme on social media, so I don’t.

The Empire stretches into all corners of our galaxy, and the cluster of galaxies surrounding it, the guide continues. No planet in the United Galaxies is untouched by their influence. He waves both arms around with a flourish. Some of you younger folks might not know the full history of our empire and how it developed. Earth accepted Quolvian rulership generations ago. Long before most of you were born. He leans too close to a pretty young woman with blonde hair right in front of him, and leers at her. She jerks away from him swiftly. He carries on, without missing a beat. "And our little blue planet is fortunate not to attract too much royal attention. As we know, those planets which do draw the Emperor’s eye… well, they are usually not the happiest places to live."

The tour guide is really beefing up the story for dramatic effect. A lot of people in the audience are only half-listening, so maybe he feels like he has to win back the room with a little flamboyance.

He has my undivided attention though. And it’s nothing to do with his stagey delivery.

I’ve always been curious about the imperial family. More than curious. Fascinated. It was the main reason I agreed to come with Jo into space. I couldn’t pass up the chance to catch a glimpse of Quolvio.

They’re so secretive. And I have so many questions.

I’d never admit it to anyone, but I desperately wish I could see Emperor Eox and the five faceless princes. Not in person. Hell no. Those guys have a reputation for brutality and I’m not brave enough to kick a hornet’s nest. But they’re so private and aloof. It’d be awesome if they’d give us a little peek behind the scenes, streamed on our phones or whatever.

A thirty-second video clip. An image. Something. Anything.

What are the five princes like?

Where do they spend their days?

What do they look like? Do they look like monsters?

How much involvement do they have in the workings of the empire?

Are they really as barbaric as everyone says they are?

As usual when my mind wanders in this direction, I end up telling myself to quit thinking like that. It isn’t a good idea to pry into Dark Star matters. It definitely isn’t a good idea if they notice you doing it.

At least, that’s what everyone says. The farther away the imperial family stays, the better. Everyone knows it.

My mom always said the same when I got fixated on scary things as a kid. What’s the point of giving it headspace, Laina honey? No good can come of thinking too hard about that stuff. Moms are usually right.

I leave Jo scrolling through her social media feed and approach the viewing screen for a better look. Up close, the outside view is almost too dramatic to take in. Little pinprick stars dot the inky blackness of space. Right in the center lies a single gigantic planet, shrouded in a purple-indigo veil.

There it is again. Oh my god, there it is. Right there. So near, and still so far.

Quolvio. The Dark Star.

The planet looks unsettling from this angle, and not just because I know about the fearsome resident royals. On visual impact alone, the Dark Star is spectacular. Brooding. Dark. Spooky. Beautiful but deadly. Kind of evil. That’s the vibe.

It’s legendary. And it’s irritating how out-of-bounds it is. You can’t even find out information about the Dark Star on the public galactinet. You need to apply for special research access to the galactic history servers. I have no idea why. See, the library where I work is one of the places where you can apply for that pass. One or two visitors come to the inquiries desk to ask about it every week. Most people don’t bother.

My special research access application is still being processed. I don’t get any perks just because I’m a librarian. Unfortunately.

If the Dark Star was a character in a novel, it’d be Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. Kind of magnetically appealing. And totally toxic.

The viewing screen slides shut after a few minutes, and we all turn away. Waiters circulate with champagne from Earth in sparkling flute glasses, and smaller tumblers of some hot pink steaming liquid. They tell us it’s a fruity specialty drink from the planet Jivvi. I decline the pink gloop and take the champagne instead. Better the devil you know.

There you are, Jo says, bustling over to me. She’s frowning and her mouth is downturned in the perfect arch shape of a rainbow. A miserable rainbow. I was looking all over for you, she says. Her phone is still in her hand.

I was just taking a closer look at the Dark Star. Looks kind of spooky the way the—

Uh-huh. When are we going to get something to eat around here?

I look around. The waiters are just carrying drinks. No food or snacks.

Not sure, I say. Maybe soon?

Jo isn’t having fun. I don’t know why I feel like I have to make it up to her, since this whole trip was her idea, but I do. That’s how things are with us. Jo complains and whines, and I run around in circles trying to make everything okay.

She glances around with a sour expression. Thank God this flight is for adults only. It’d be even more of a pain in the ass if kids were running around our ankles screaming. Right?

Mmm, I say. I’m pretty fine with kids being around, but I don’t feel like starting a fight.

A petite woman with red-brown pigtails and freckles bumps into me a little as she passes. We apologize simultaneously, then smile. She raises her glass to me. Great trip! she says, like she’s making a kind of toast. Even though we’re perfect strangers, I raise my glass too and smile. It takes guts to chat casually to people you don’t know. I admire that kind of self-confidence in other people. It sure as heck isn’t in my skill set.

As I turn to rest my champagne glass on a table, the ship lurches suddenly. A bunch of people fall onto other people. A few can’t steady themselves in time and tumble down onto the floor.

Without thinking, I grab hold of a waiter to balance. He keeps us both upright, but side-eyes me with disdain.

Sorry, I whisper, smoothing out his white jacket. Meanwhile, the tour guide rushes out of the room.

What the hell just happened? Jo says, a little too loudly. She’s hanging onto a middle-aged guy with a big mustache, who looks kind of exhilarated by the whole thing.

I shrug, and smile half-apologetically. Not sure.

In a few minutes, the guide returns to stand in front of the viewing screen.

Ladies and gentlemen. Please remain calm. The pilot has informed me that all guests must return to their launch seats and fasten their seat belts. The ship is experiencing a little asteroid turbulence. That’s all.

His amiable expression has disappeared. He looks pale and haunted.

Nothing to worry about, he calls, halfway out of the door again. Please take your seats immediately.

His fearful face does not match his breezy words.

I have a bad feeling about this.

People hurry past us to get to the launch lounge. Grabbing Jo’s sleeve, I try to pull her through the crowd so we can obey the guide’s instructions.

"Hey, easy, she snaps, pulling her hand away. That’s Italian cashmere. Do you have any idea how much that costs? You wanna replace it if you tear it?"

Sorry, I say again, for probably the hundredth time that day.

Before we can get to our seats, the ship jerks again.

What the hell? Jo yells.

The low hum of conversation pauses for a second, then starts up again much louder. This time, the tour guide does not stand in front of the room for another update. He’s disappeared again. Probably sitting firmly on his butt in the staff launch lounge, tapping his own seatbelt closure panel.

There’s something wrong, wails an anguished woman’s voice from somewhere behind me.

I pull Jo firmly along with me, taking no care at all of her cashmere sweater this time. We need to go, I say. Now. My tone of voice is almost firm.

For once, Jo doesn’t bite back. She’s freaked too. She follows me without a word.

We move into the launch lounge in the swell of a crowd, ready to find our allocated seats. As we walk, the floor moves, but in an only-just-perceptible way. The ship seems to vibrate gently. Nothing much.

But why is it vibrating at all? Spaceships don’t do that.

Anxiety bites hard into my stomach, like I’m clamped between the jaws of a shark. Something is badly wrong. Definitely. I’m not imagining it.

This isn’t normal. Is it?

So, uh, Jo? My voice wobbles, like I’m impersonating a lamb. You think our space cruise might be cut short?

Jo makes an exasperated noise. It better frickin’ not be. I didn’t spend a ton of cash getting up here just to go straight home again after a few hours.

But if there’s a problem—?

If there’s a problem, they’d better damn well fix it. What is this, amateur hour? She talks tough, but I can see she’s rattled.

We locate our seats at last, and sit down. My fingers are trembling so much that operating the belt closure panel is a challenge. Jo slaps my hand away and does it for me. I’m grateful for her bossiness, for once.

The people around us look like they’re in varying stages of panic. Some are pinch-faced and silent, hurrying with sharp, spiky movements to their seats. Some are babbling to each other vacantly. A few are crying. Every now and again, there’s a squeal of anguish.

Jo’s one of the babblers. She doesn’t look as terrified as I feel. Instead, she’s reeling off a long list of complaints. She’s never seen such terrible service. She can’t believe how much this cruise sucks. She plans to demand compensation from the cruise company once we’re back on Earth.

I don’t reply. She doesn’t expect me to.

My heart’s racing so hard, I can hardly distinguish one heartbeat from the next. It’s just a bang-bang-bang noise in my head, and I can’t turn down the volume.

It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before I realize Jo has gone quiet.

I glance over at her and catch a glimpse of her phone, glowing in her hand. She was browsing news sites. But she’s not scrolling now. Something stopped her in her tracks.

I stare down at Jo’s phone screen.

BREAKING: EARTH PLEASURE CRUISE SHIP UNDER ATTACK

The moment stretches so it feels a hundred years long.

There’s a still photograph of the exact same ship we boarded this morning. It’s on an Earth landing strip, in bright sunshine. A space captain salutes next to it, frozen in time.

Oh my God, Jo, I whisper. "That’s this ship."

She doesn’t respond.

I look closer at the screen. The subtitle says:

BREAKING: 350 PASSENGERS FEARED LOST IN ALIEN AMBUSH

My breath catches in my throat. That’s…

Jo looks at me. For the first time ever, I see tears in the corners of her eyes.

Jo, I whisper. "Do they mean us?"

The ship starts moving. Not just moving. Moving is too gentle a word for what the ship does. It starts zooming. The damn ship moves faster than any vehicle I’ve ever known.

Speed seizes us all and pins us to our seats.

I try to scream, but the sound is torn away from me.

Jo’s hand finds mine and squeezes it tight. Her shellac manicure digs into my palm.

The ship speeds up even more. I can’t move my head at all now.

If we get out of this alive, Jo’s going to freak at the travel agent who sold us this cruise. I almost feel sorry for him.

If we get out of this alive.

I squeeze Jo’s hand back, like that’ll keep us both safe.

As I close my eyes, I silently beg the universe to save us. I cling on to that hope like it’s a damn life raft.

Right now, hope is all we have. And I can’t lose my grip on it.

Before I can even try to scream again, the ship is plunged into darkness. No lights. No tannoy announcements. No way to keep the terror at bay.

We hurtle into black space, moving faster than I ever dreamed possible.

2 STRAVON

There is no alternative.

Our father glares down at us from his throne. We’re assembled in a semi-circle around him, in order of age, just as we always are. I’m way over on the left, because I’m the youngest. Zerin heads up the right side, beside the throne.

My father doesn’t look at me once.

"But humans? My eldest brother Zerin looks confused. Their planet is in the Milky Way. All beings from that galaxy are weak organic creatures. He snorts scornfully. Right? Milky Way aliens are scarcely more than beasts. Or so we have always been taught."

We’ve never actually been to Earth, remember, my middle brother Radek points out. Humans could be more advanced than we know. Our educators could have misled us on that point. Everybody ignores him.

Humans are our only option. Father’s voice is sharp. He does not appreciate disagreement. There are not enough Quolvian women left. The ones who remain are often unable to bear children. Those who do manage to conceive are irreparably weakened by the task. They almost never manage a repeat conception. And dual-ancestry children are strongest of all. You know all of this. He looks hard at us all in turn. My sons, believe me. The Quolvian Imperial Council has considered all alternatives.

Zerin folds his arms. And the council has analyzed the DNA of other species of alien female, to confirm whether they would be suitable to pass on our genetic legacy?

Father glares at him. I have covered this issue already, Zerin. They are not.

Zerin is clearly unconvinced. We need to look at the bigger picture. How could capturing and impregnating human females help the Empire?

You need heirs. Father’s booming voice fills the chamber. "Not just ‘someday’. Now. The royal family must be seen to be strong and virile. Especially in these dark days, when there are rumblings of rebellion in some quarters. We cannot leave this matter to chance."

My second eldest brother Kodal smirks at Zerin. Those two are almost as bad as each other. Aren’t there always rebels who want to bring us down, Father? Surely we should not take such pathetic threats seriously. There are always dissatisfied factions plotting against us. They fall away. They always do. The Empire is too powerful.

Father holds up a hand. Eternal power is not guaranteed, Kodal. He turns back to the golden boy. And Zerin, you too should remember that fact when you ascend to the throne.

Zerin nods, and Kodal scowls. Kodal hates to be reminded that he’s only second in line. The backup option.

The religious leader Viksin is of particular concern to my intelligence agents. He appears to have quite a following these days. Father bristles with irritation as he mentions the name. "But let us