Sold to the Alien Smugglers: A Fated Mates Romance (Captive Mates Book 4)

by Corin Cain

  What’s happening to you? Is he hurting you?

  I hate hearing the fear in Marcel’s telepathic communications, because if I’d never encountered those three Aurelians, that magnificent warrior wouldn’t even know the meaning of the word. He’s lived his entire life with nothing to lose – but he’s also spent it searching desperately for his one, true, Fated Mate – me.

  And while I might have been what he and his battle-brothers had spent a lifetime searching for, the moment they found me, I became their greatest – perhaps only – weakness.

  But as long as I can hear the three of them – or, at least, feel their auras deep in my mind – I know I don’t need to feel alone. Their presence gives me strength as I stare up at Lord Oblog.

  The disgusting creature sits on his raised throne, sitting tall and proud with the illusion of power straightening his spine. The slick smile of victory glistens on his thick, blubbery lips.

  Oblog looks down at me like I’m a tool, not a living creature. No, worse than that – like I’m some fancy new weapon he’s just got his hands on. That’s all I am to him.

  I’m realizing now that I was a pawn on his galactic chess board for longer than I could ever have anticipated – and now that I’m Bonded to the three Aurelians, I’ve been reluctantly elevated to queen.

  My triad had been ready to break free of Lord Oblog after just one more job – to finally be rid of the disgusting Toad dignitary, and the shame that working for him laid upon their shoulder.

  Then, I ruined everything. My presence shackled Quint, Marcel, and Lucius to this disgusting, gelatinous blob as surely as the Bond shackled them to me.

  He’s not hurting me, I transmit through the Bond. He’s just… looking at me.

  Their discomfort ebbs in response through the Bond. Even Oblog’s eyes on me are more than the three Aurelians can tolerate. They’re in pain, but it’s as if I feel it more than they do – that the countless bruises and deep cuts they’ve received from being trampled and beaten by that onslaught of Bullfrogs means nothing to them.

  Before I was snatched from them, I’d seen how deadly the three warriors were. They moved as if they were one – dancing, as much as fighting. Armed with nothing but those shards of splintered wood, they managed to eliminate at least a dozen of the deadly Bullfrogs.

  But a dozen deaths amounts for nothing – not compared to the legions of Bullfrogs and the countless Toad stationed here on Lord Oblog’s ship.

  I stare up at the disgusting Toad Lord, given strength and confidence by the presence of the three Aurelians in my mind.

  I don’t ask what Lord Oblog plans to do with me – to me. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I simply stare forward, at the legs of his raised chair, and I just wish I had my knife.

  The disgusting creature speaks:

  “Feisty little Jamie.” His gurgled laughter disgusts me. “Who would have thought you were the answer to all my problems? Those three strong-headed thugs are invaluable to me – and I was struggling to motivate them to remain working for me. Now? Thanks to you?”

  He rubs his slimy hands together.

  “Now, they’re mine.”

  I gulp dryly, despite the fetid atmosphere of this Toad ship.

  Lord Oblog knew it. He knew it all along. He knew that Marcel, Quint, and Lucius were being torn apart by the moral quandary of working alongside the Toads. He knew they were going to manufacture some exit plan – one that might be executed by the shedding of gallons of Toad and Bullfrog blood. He was desperate for something to keep them where he wanted them – and I just handed him exactly that.

  As he sits on that throne, his disgusting smile stretches into a grotesque grin. His whole body jiggles as he exults in the thought of owning the three Aurelians – of hanging what we’d done together over our heads, and using it to ensure they do his bidding.

  Marcel, Quint, and Lucius have already smuggled Gods-know-what to and from the Aurelian Capital, risking hundreds of years in jail, but now it’s going to be so much worse.

  I don’t even want to think about what he’s going to make them do next.

  Yet even as I stand there, I can feel the imprint of the three Aurelians on me. I can feel their Bond in my soul, just as I can feel the echoes of their touch on my skin. I appreciate even the rough bruises on my thighs and butt – from where they’d grabbed me so hard as they surrendered to their evolutionary purpose. They’d become one with me – and I’ve doomed them for it.

  Nothing can split us apart now – and that’s exactly what Lord Oblog is counting on.

  But even as I consider that, a strange calmness overwhelms me. I know I should be terrified – but I’m not. In fact, I feel less doubt about the three Aurelians than I have ever since meeting them. I know them now – know them as well as I know myself.

  I can feel in their auras that these three warriors are men of honor – even as they go against the rules of the very Empire they’ve pledged allegiance to. These are not men who follow arbitrary laws and bow to polite conventions. These are men who fight for what they believe in – at any cost.

  Even as I stand there, I feel their commingled seed dripping down my thighs. They’re still inside me – all three of them. The Bond thrums in my mind, and I imagine what might lay ahead, should we ever be free of this nightmare.

  I imagine bearing the Aurelians their children. I know instinctively it hasn’t happened yet – none of them made me pregnant, even as they flooded me with their potent seed. That comes later – if it comes at all.

  But, right now, we have survival to think of.

  Yet even as I consider that, the Bond draws me to them. I ache to be safe with the three Aurelians again, alone and undisturbed. I ache to explore every pleasure their lips, arms, fingers and cocks promise me – to indulge far away from all this death and destruction. To be free from the dangers and doubt of the universe. I want to go to a place that none of the horrors can touch as – and even as I think that, a single word echoes soundlessly in my head.

  Atlantis.

  What does that mean? I guess it doesn’t matter. The thought of safety, peace, and calmness seems like a dream.

  Instead, I focus my mind. There can be no thoughts of hope – not right now. Perhaps not ever.

  Just battle. Just survival.

  I have my own worries to face – like the disgusting Toad Lord looking down at me, licking his blubbery lips like I’m a delicious present from the Gods themselves.

  “We need to get you cleaned up,” he gurgles, beckoning lazily.

  Then, from the shadows, they appear.

  I stiffen, gasping in shock.

  All this time, I’d thought Oblog and I were alone in this amphitheater – but now, I realize the Toad Lord was never actually alone. Even facing an unarmed woman – a fraction of his size, and barely able to stand on her wobbly feet – he wasn’t confident enough to be alone.

  If it had been anybody else, I’d have detected them. Even the cold stare of an Aurelian burns on my skin like sunlight, and Toads and Bullfrogs gurgle, and belch, and are impossible to keep hidden.

  But it’s not organic life in this cavernous room with him and I. This whole time, Oblog was surrounded by guards – but they were Sentinels.

  Cold, robotic, untiring Sentinels – and undetectable in the darkness, with those malevolent red eyes switched off. Now, with a wave of his webbed hand, Lord Oblog awakens them – and red eyes blink into brightness all around me.

  I gasp, as I hear the clanking of their feet, and the whirr of their gears and servos. They’re silent when they’re unmoving, but Sentinels are loud when they actually move.

  The towering, robotic guards march forward, out of the shadows. They move as one – stiff, nine-feet-tall bodies of shiny steel and hardened plastic.

  The robotic guards step into the light, and my shock turns to horror. Physically, they might stand taller than the Aurelians, but they aren’t as broad – and I know my triad could tear them to scrap metal with
their bare hands if they had to.

  But you need to reach your enemy to lay your hands on them – and the arms of the Sentinels serve as stark warning how unlikely that will be.

  Their arms have been modified. Instead of the human-like hands of regular service automatons, these Sentinels have high-velocity slug-guns attached to the backs of their robotic wrists. They could cut down a wall of enemies from half a mile away, and then use their robotic fingers to pick through the bloody entrails they’d leave.

  The Sentinels clank forward, circling me menacingly. The metal of their forms is marred at their feet, blackened from walking through the Toad’s ship.

  “Do I need them to grab you?” Oblog gurgles. “Or will you be a good little girl and go with them?”

  I rage inwardly at the condescending tone Lord Oblog speaks to me with. I can’t bear it – but I have to.

  Reluctantly, I grit my teeth - staring the slimy, malevolent fucker in the eye. I’m burning with anger. My fists clench as I imagine jabbing my thumbs into his bulbous sockets. I want to take his sight. I want to put him in darkness forever – to give him the punishment he deserves for the crime of looking at me.

  But the Toad Lord is unrepentant. He laughs coldly at me, spluttering.

  “Good. I wanted to see if there’s still any fire left in you – and you don’t disappoint.”

  He rubs his slimy hands together.

  “You once freed slaves, Jamie. Now, let’s see how well you do as one.” His blubbery lips curl malevolently. “You’re not thinking about escape, are you? Maybe you’ve still got those instincts inside you – a little ice to your fire.” Then, his eyes flash, and he gurgles: “Gab’nah! Enter!”

  The huge doors at the top of the main stairway open with a hiss.

  He walks in.

  I feel my stomach plummet. My breath catches in my throat. It’s him.

  The Bullfrog who killed Ling.

  There’s no mistaking him – not that slimy, murderous Bullfrog bastard.

  As he stands framed in the doorway, the Bullfrog rubs the scar I’d left across his chest and arm. It’s as if his wound is hurting again – triggered by the sight of me. I hope that’s true. I hope it hurts to even look at me.

  But look at me he does – staring me down silently. The doors close behind him, and suddenly he’s in the room with me. My strength and resolve instantly falters. I suddenly feel like I’m stuck in place – my bare feet rooted to the floor.

  I feel like I’m staring into a mirror – looking out at the real world, but powerless to change it.

  Lord Oblog sees my reaction, and licks his glistening lips.

  “Oh, so you remember Gab’nah, do you? He certainly remembers you.”

  Anger and fear mix together inside of me – creating a sickly, black and yellow potion that bubbles in my mind like noxious fumes.

  Tell me what’s happening.

  Quint’s voice suddenly echoes in my mind. It’s nauseous with worry, and that doesn’t help. My fear bounces back against his, each reflecting the other and amplifying them both.

  I don’t answer Quint. Instead, I force myself to look up at the scarred Bullfrog looming in front of me. At least he has a name now - Gab’nah.

  A name as ugly as he is.

  I force myself to stare at him – to face my fear. I stare at Gab’nah so intensely that I can actually feel the shadows of his image transmuting through my mind to the three Aurelians.

  I’d never told them about Ling – but they can feel my hatred and terror so deeply that they instantly know this Bullfrog means something to me – that he and I have unfinished business.

  Their auras shift to match my mood – dark, cold, and saying nothing. They reckon with the beast standing before me, just as I do.

  All four of us now want to kill this Bullfrog – even more than we want to kill Lord Oblog himself. Gab’nah might just be a tool of the sinister Toad puppet-master, but it’s personal with him.

  It suddenly occurs to me that Lord Oblog asked me a question – and it feels like a lifetime has passed since he began waiting for an answer.

  The strength of the Aurelians buoys my own.

  “I remember him,” I answer defiantly.

  As I state the words, I’m proud that none of my terror seeps into them. In truth, I’m not nearly as fearless as I sound. This creature looming in front of me scares me. He’s not like the other Bullfrogs. Even amidst his brethren – the most depraved, disgusting creatures in the universe - he’s darker, viler, and more hell-bent on revenge.

  He wants to hurt me – and it’s not the scar itself that makes him hate me so virulently.

  It’s the moment when I’d made him feel weak. Weak, because of a human female.

  To have humiliated him like that – to have torn asunder the illusion of his bolstered confidence – is unforgivable to Gab’nah. It makes him hate me, perhaps even more than I hate him in return.

  I know men like him – and even if he towers nearly ten-feet-tall, and is built like a building, all I see is a pathetic, shameful child when I look at Gab’nah.

  When men like him – Toad, Bullfrog or Human – are challenged by a ‘little girl,’ they respond with rage and violence. These men attempt to dominate out of insecurity, not out of genuine power. Gab’nah is a living embodiment of everything my warrior triad aren’t.

  They’re confident, powerful, and protective.

  Gab’nah’s ilk will break you down until there’s nothing left but a fractured husk.

  I see that now, as if I’m seeing things for the first time. Perhaps I am.

  I was so scared back when I was running away to planet X12. I was so scared after Ling died. I’d thought she was invincible, and yet it had all come crashing down around me.

  But, fuck it.

  I’m still scared now – but I’m not letting it rule me. I proved to myself how capable I was when I grabbed that splintered wood and tried to kill Oblog with it. I’ve demonstrated that I’m done cowering and hiding.

  I’m still alive, and I plan to keep it that way.

  My spirit is strong – stronger now than perhaps it ever was. I just need to remember everything Ling taught me – to make my mind keen enough to take Gab’nah and Lord Oblog down.

  Gab’nah is the more physically dangerous, but Lord Oblog’s always been two steps ahead. I need to find his weakness – and I can’t rely on the Aurelians. They’re Bonded to me. They’ve found their Fated Mate, and now they won’t risk anything if it puts me in jeopardy.

  Lord Oblog stretches his blubbery lips wide.

  “If you try to escape, Jamie, I’m going to give you to Gab’nah. I won’t let him kill you – but I’ll let him enjoy you for an hour or two, while your precious little triad feels every thrust and twinge of it through your fabled Bond.” He pauses, running his lips across his glistening lips. “Do you understand me?”

  My muscles tense.

  Alone with that Gab’nah? It’s the stuff of my worst nightmares – the ones that would keep me up for weeks after Ling was taken from me.

  Alone with him, there’s nothing I could do to protect myself. He could do anything to me – except kill, me, apparently; although I’m sure I’d be begging for him to do so before the end of it.

  I have no weapons, and even if I did, my trusty knife would be useless against ten feet of gelatinous, fatty, wart-covered muscle. Bullfrog skin is so thick I’d need an Orb-Blade to even pierce it. Even with the strength of the Bond, I couldn’t plunge the blade of my knife into anything except Gab’nah’s beady, bulbous eyes – or his soft, fleshy genitals that hang out only when a Bullfrog fucks a woman. The disgusting member of the Toad species normally resides safe inside their bodies, typical of their hermaphroditic race.

  Listening to Oblog’s threats, Gab’nah steps forward. His thick fists clench. I know he’s imagining wrapping them around me and forcing me to do his bidding.

  He takes another menacing stride, and that’s when Oblog raises his hand.
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  “Not yet, Gab’nah. Only if she tries to escape.” His bulbous eyes turn to the towering Bullfrog. “And even then – no permanent damage. If you must have fun with her – after you’ve had your ‘fun’ with her – I suggest electricity.”

  Oblog gurgles with laughter.

  “You can have so much fun with electricity - and without leaving much more than a few little scars.” He rubs his slimy hands together in glee. “Nothing our med-bots can’t fix.”

  Med-bots can fix physical scars, but not mental ones. That much I learned from the poor women Ling and I rescued from the Toads.

  Lord Oblog is oblivious to my thoughts – lost in his vision of Gab’nah tormenting me.

  “Maybe you can combine the two,” the Toad Lord gurgles. “She’s proven she can take a big cock – three of them, in fact.” His tongue slithers across his lips. “I think she’ll still be quite tight – but if she’s not tight enough, I’m sure you’ll enjoy how a human female clenches down and spasms when the shock hits her.”

  My stomach roils. I clamp my teeth together and fight against the nausea. I won’t throw up in front of them...

  …I hope.

  Gab’nah breathes in, his huge belly expanding. Then, he laughs – and it’s the most sickening noise I can imagine. His laughter is low and guttural as he imagines the pleasure of tying me up, torturing me, and raping me again and again.

  I try to find anger – but panic surges inside me instead. It’s yellow and vile, and it overwhelms my mind. I feel my stomach clenching, and my heart pounds like a drum. I have to force myself to breathe in deeply, remembering what Ling had taught me to gain focus and calmness. I try to conjure up her words in my mind – I try to remember her lessons...

  …but it’s hopeless.

  All I can picture is Ling at the moment of her gasping death. All my mind conjures is the image of her last few seconds of desperation as she hangs on the barb of Gab’nah’s electro-shocker.

  Calm. Before battle, calm. Become your body. Become your instincts. Let them drive you.

  Marcel’s voice is no memory! It’s here – inside my head. It’s now.

  He’s a battle commander. He’s found his strength – the same one that kept he and his battle brothers safe during their hundred years of service to the Empire, and through all the battles the three of them have survived since.