I don't play the role of the kidnapped princess very well.

And I really hate the fated mates trope.

Hello again, I'm Eve Wakefield, and I refuse to accept that I'm in love with an intergalactic moth prince.

No.

I don't care how handsome he is, I don't want to marry him.

I don't care if his parents have a sentient spaceship capable of eating entire planets.

Love is earned, not swindled by pheromones.

I'm now trapped on a ship with an adorable cyborg bodyguard, a golden toilet, and relationship issues. There's the prince I'm supposed to marry, the forest beast I fell in love with, and the never-wears-clothes police officer with tentacles. I've also got a mother-in-law who looks like a giant millipede, more macarons than I can eat, and plenty of red lace lingerie made from alien moth blood.

I'm living in luxury, but I will do anything to see Abraxas again.

Even if that means giving in and becoming a princess in a gilded cage.

There's so much more to all of this than I first thought, and I should've known better than to judge a man whose gaze is enough to knock me to my knees.

Damn.

I might be wrong. I might be in love with more than one alien. I might also be dying.

And there's only one person who can fix this: I need to be with Abraxas.

After that, I'll worry about the possibility of becoming the next queen of the universe.

But let's be honest here: I don't miss being a caterer; being an alien queen is way more interesting.