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

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Sold to the Alien Smugglers: A Fated Mates Romance (Captive Mates Book 4) Page 25

by Corin Cain


  His aura is empty, yet full – both at the same time. Marcel is like a rock. He’s been outmaneuvered left and right by this Toad Lord, but at his heart he is always a leader and a warrior. His calm presence in my mind soothes me. His fearless aura bolsters me. He lets his courage flow into me and I drink it up.

  Buoyed by Marcel’s unspoken strength, I stare at Gab’nah with newfound defiance.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

  The venom pours out with my words. I’m surrounded by Sentinels that could snap my neck with a single twist of their mechanical hands, while facing down the same, sadistic Bullfrog who killed my best friend – and yet I find my strength through my triad.

  Instead of panic, now all I feel is cold determination.

  I am going to kill him. I know it as certainly as I’ve ever known anything. I won’t leave this Toad mothership while Gab’nah breathes.

  As if sensing my determination, Gab’nah inflates his chest, opening his mouth to show rows and rows of dagger-sharp teeth. Trying to intimidate me, he grabs his cock from beneath his loincloth. His disgusting member extends outward – green, and gnarled, and wart-covered. It tents up his thin loincloth – and for a moment, I even wish I didn’t have this Bond-enhanced sight that lets me make out the details of his fetid shaft so clearly.

  Mistaking my silence for fear, the Bullfrog croaks out a battle cry - making lewd gestures that suggest what he intends to do to me later.

  Lord Oblog watches, and then snorts bitterly.

  “Go back to your aquarium Gab’nah. I trust we won’t need your services – for now.”

  The Bullfrog lets out the last of his breath in a croaking warble, then clamps his bulbous lips into a thin line. His disgusting cock retracts into his body. I watch with the same murderous focus that Ling taught me. That cock of his is his biggest weakness - literally. Gab’nah thinks he’s going to penetrate me with it.

  I know better.

  The only one doing any penetration tonight will be me – because a Bullfrog’s cock is the quickest, most vulnerable route to his soft, life-sustaining organs and swollen guts. I just need a weapon and an opportunity, and I’ll make Ling proud – or, at least, the memory of her.

  Gab’nah turns, hopping through the opening doors with a disappointed gurgle. When they finally close again, a pall of darkness lifts from my soul.

  I might be trapped here with the Toad Lord – but being near that Bullfrog made my skin crawl.

  Lord Oblog looks down at me. He’s waiting for me to respond. I meet his eyes, but I don’t give him that satisfaction. I know he thinks of me as a child – helpless and cowed.

  I stare him down – planning to teach him otherwise.

  He sighs, as if weary of my defiance.

  “Shock.”

  One word.

  With that one word, the nearest Sentinel grabs me. Huge, metal fingers wrap around my wrist – and before I can react, a surge of electricity flows through my body like lightning.

  Pain.

  Sharp, sharp pain knifes through my body – like a thousand tiny daggers sinking into my flesh.

  The Aurelians sense my agony, and their auras harden into hatred and fear. They push themselves into my mind, trying to make themselves bigger than the pain that floods every cell of my writhing, agony-filled body. Their strength and force of will serves as a desperate dam against which the wall of agony crashes asunder.

  But they can’t help me. Thoughts don’t cancel out pain.

  I drop to my knees, screaming in pain.

  Jamie! Jamie! My triad calls to me in my mind, and only then do I remember who I am – just barely.

  “A-ah!”

  I can’t stop the whimper from my mouth. My legs give out beneath me, and I collapse to the floor, convulsing. The grip of the Sentinel drags me back to my feet, and I hang there as I twist and shudder. The robot’s dead, red eyes stare at me without thought or mercy.

  Fire flows through my veins.

  “Enough!”

  It ends.

  Oh, Gods! It ends.

  I become myself again. In torture you lose everything that makes you who you are – you lose your very identity. If that agony had gone on for much longer, I might never have found it again.

  As I shudder, trying to recover my senses, I hear Lord Oblog’s sinister voice.

  “I’ll say it once more, Jamie – because oh, how I hate to waste words: We won’t be needing Gab’nah’s services, right? You won’t try to escape.”

  He pauses, before snarling:

  “Say it, bitch!”

  The Sentinel keeps its icy steel fingers clenched around my arm. I don’t try to struggle any more. The robot’s grip is more than I could break free from, and the towering robot is watching me with those dead, red – just waiting for the single syllable that will instruct it to hurt me again.

  “I-I’m not going to try to escape,” I gasp, spitting the words out.

  I’m lying. I am going to get out of here.

  But first, I’m going to kill Gab’nah – and Lord Oblog.

  I don’t know how – not yet. I’m surrounded by enemies, cut off from my triad, without weapons or a plan. Yet, somehow, I know I’m going to do it. I have to.

  I just wish Queen Jasmine and the Aurelian Empire knew of this Toad Mothership – the one that’s been smuggling something to the rebel factions and the Priesthood. If only the full might of the Aurelian Empire could crush the ‘finger’ of the Toad King like the vermin Lord Oblog truly is.

  But they don’t – so even if I have to take on this challenge with just my triad to support me, I will.

  I’m not just getting off this ship – before I’m free, I’m going to watch my enemies die.

  12

  If Oblog can sense my newfound resolve, he doesn’t show it.

  Instead, he looks down at me like I’ve been conquered. That is his weakness.

  That is how I will beat him.

  When he views an enemy as defeated, he puts them out of his mind. It is his Achilles’ heel.

  Let him think that I’m conquered. Let him think he’s beaten the fight out of me. The truth will be the last thing that goes through his mind – until a blade follows.

  His arrogance will be his end.

  Oblivious to my scheming, Oblog’s grotesque sneer stretches wider.

  “Very good, Jamie. If your little boyfriends behave - and make the next shipment properly – I’ll even let your friend go. What’s her name? Jess?”

  Tessa. Her name is Tessa.

  “I’ll let her go – and, you’ll be allowed to visit with your big, strong warriors while they are on the ship – as long as they behave.”

  He lets out a sadistic little chuckle.

  “I’m not an evil man, Jamie. I’m practical. This is all business.”

  He motions towards the door with a slimy hand.

  “Gab’nah? He’s not practical.” Oblog lets the words sink in, allowing me to imagine the horrors that await me if we fail to comply with his demands. I clench my teeth harder, keeping my sanity intact by imagining how I’ll end that fucker’s life.

  Oblog is still oblivious to my thoughts. He still thinks he’s conquered me.

  “Oh, Gab’nah would enjoy hurting you – but there’s no profit in that.” Oblog snorts, as if basking in what he believes is his superior intellect. “I only cause pain when necessary, Jamie.”

  Then, he leans forward in his throne, and I realize the chit-chat is at an end.

  “Now,” he demands, “telepath what I just said to your triad.”

  I blink. So, he knows about that power? My newly-discovered ability to communicate with Marcel, Lucius, and Quint?

  “Oh, don’t look surprised,” Answering that question, Oblog licks his lips. “Of course I know about the power of the Bond. I know you can speak to them – and plot with them.” His slimy fingers stroke his flabby chin. “Do not think me a fool, Jamie – or it may be the last thought you have.”

&nb
sp; Then, Oblog sits back, folding his wet hands on his lap. The heat presses down on me. A fly the size of my fist lands on Oblog’s shoulder, and I watch in horror as his tongue darts out, trapping the writhing thing between his lips as he sucks it into his huge mouth and savors the insect as it squirms in his grasp.

  Oblog seems to know everything.

  I reluctantly do as he commands.

  He says that if you complete another shipment, he’ll let Tessa go free, I telepath to my triad. He’ll let you visit me while you’re on the ship, too. Then, I pause shamefully. He’s using me to make you do what he says.

  I don’t need to say what will happen if they don’t do as Oblog demands.

  All three Aurelians felt my pain through the Bond. They all felt the horror I endured as Gab’nah towered over me. My pain – my fear – is their only weakness; and I hate myself for it.

  All three of their auras flood my mind – soothing me, giving me resolve, and bolstering me against the impossible threat.

  I feel ashamed – like I don’t deserve this love or devotion. I’m the reason they’re in this situation!

  But, at the same time, I don’t know what I’d do without these three in my mind. The weight of the situation would be too much for me to process on my own.

  It’s difficult to believe that I’d only experienced the power of the Bond mere minutes earlier, but already I can’t imagine what it would be like without Marcel, Quint, and Lucius inside my mind.

  Inside my soul.

  “Go. Now.”

  Oblog’s voice snaps me from my thoughts.

  All around me, the Sentinels march forward. The one who’d restrained me releases my bruised arm.

  Reluctantly, I follow the clanking robots so they won’t force me to come with them – gripping me again in their vice-like grasp. Any struggle I attempt would be meaningless, so I have to play it smart – just like Ling taught me.

  I’m forced forward by four of the deadly machines – two in front and two behind me. It’s chilling. So far, I’ve only had to face the rage of Bullfrogs, and the Machiavellian cunning of the craven Toads. Both are terrifying in their own way – but the behavior of those creatures is driven by emotion, which I can understand.

  Sentinels, though, have no such compunction. They are dead and cold – existing only to follow the orders of their owners, with ruthless and merciless efficiency.

  The four robots lead me up the stairs of the amphitheater, while Oblog looks on – suddenly deep in thought. He remains chewing on the fly he sucked into his maw with that obscene tongue – savoring the flavor.

  I turn forward, and watch the doors open wide in front of me. The Sentinels lead me through.

  The robots wade through the ankle-deep water in the corridor beyond, and tadpoles slither away from their clanking, mechanical feet. Toads technicians and engineers press themselves against the walls as we stride past.

  I’m shivering with nerves. Despite the reassurance of the three Aurelians, still present in my mind, I feel strangely alone – and then I understand the reason why.

  The fabric of the pleasure dress I’m still wearing clings to my sweaty body – but the thousands of volts of electricity the Sentinel zapped me with must have fried whatever made the dress feel alive. I’d grown used to the constant, squirming sensation of that sheer fabric – growing used to the way it would respond to my emotions, and heighten my arousal.

  Now, all I have left is those three men in my mind.

  As if on cue, I hear Marcel’s voice in my head.

  Keep calm. We’ll get you out of here – that I promise you, my Mate.

  The rational part of my brain accepts that Marcel’s words have no basis in logic – I truly don’t see how we’re getting out of this situation. Nevertheless, they sooth me all the same. He’s confident, and it’s infectious. Marcel truly believes we’ll escape, and he makes me believe the same through his conviction alone.

  And perhaps I should have more faith. Those three Aurelians have surely been in worse situations and survived. You don’t make it through the hundred years of service in the Aurelian Army if you’re not extremely adept at survival.

  The warm water swilling around my ankles makes it feel like I’m wading through piss. I feel so dirty – more so than sweaty, rough sex with the Aurelians could ever have done.

  As if attracted by my sweat, fat flies buzz around me, beating their wings and looking for a bite. They buzz around the Sentinels, too – but the robots ignore them completely.

  The four Sentinels lead me wading through hallway after hallway. Each corridor looks the same, and I know how easy it would be to get lost in the labyrinth of this Toad mothership and never be found again.

  But Ling taught me better than that. As I’m led through the filth, I deliberately memorize each turn we take, and each doorway we pass. I use the techniques Ling taught me to create a mental map, leading me from the amphitheater to…

  …to wherever we are right now.

  We’ve arrived.

  The Sentinels come to a halt before another towering set of doors. The Sentinel in front swipes his mechanical hand across the sensorpad, and the doors open.

  Beyond is a room about a third of the size of the Aurelian’s luxurious chambers - with nothing but a big bed in the middle of the room, and a stone set of drawers next to it.

  I gasp. On the bed is a sobbing form covered by blankets.

  “Go away! Go away!”

  It’s Tessa, and she sounds terrified. I suppose I can’t blame her. Before Oblog cleared the theater and sent in the onslaught of Bullfrogs, Tessa had been forced to watch me get fucked by the Aurelians – claimed and seeded in front of a crowd of hundreds of jeering, cheering Toads and Bullfrogs.

  Then, when the spectacle was over, she must have been brought here – not knowing her fate.

  I hear a clank, and spin around to see the Sentinels retreating back through the doorway. The doors hiss closed behind them.

  I look around the spartan room, and realize we’re alone.

  My shoulders slump. I take a deep breath of fetid air.

  Then, it’s time to turn toward the bed – toward Tessa.

  She’s just a big lump beneath the blankets – huddled up, like a child hiding from the monster under the bed.

  Only, there’s no monster under this bed. The monsters are all around us. We’re trapped on a ship full of them.

  I take a step forward, and my heart aches for my poor, terrified friend. She’s where I was, just days ago. She’s broken, terrified, and feels powerless.

  I had been too – before I rediscovered my strength.

  I approach the bed.

  “Go away!”

  “It’s just me, Tessa. It’s just me.”

  At the sound of my soothing voice, Tessa nervously peels the covers away from her tear-streaked face.

  “Oh, Gods. They have you, Jamie.” She sobs. “I saw… I saw you get Bonded… I… I couldn’t watch…”

  I step to the edge of the bed, and try to make my voice sound more confident than I feel.

  “Don’t worry about it, Tessa. You’re going to get out of here.”

  I make the promise to help her escape – and this promise, at least, is one I can deliver on.

  One more shipment, and Lord Oblog promised he’d release her – and for some twisted reason, I believe the slimy bastard.

  Me?

  I know I’m not getting out of here anytime soon. Neither are Marcel, Quint, or Lucius.

  But I’m confident Lord Oblog will keep his promise – if only to show good faith, and demonstrate to the Aurelians that they can take him at their word. That’s a powerful tool.

  Besides, Oblog doesn’t care about Tessa. She’s just a tool to him – a bargaining chip, to ensure the Aurelians’ compliance. He just needs to show them he keeps his promises – and then they’ll believe the one that he won’t hurt me…

  …as long as I don’t try to escape, or the Aurelians don’t try to rescue m
e.

  On the bed, Tessa shivers despite the room’s fetid warmth. There’s only one bed in here, and no kitchen unit like the Aurelians cooked that slab of meat on.

  Instead, there’s just a replicator in the far corner, which extends down from the ceiling. It’s old, but it can still probably churn out the thin gruel, laden with synthetic nutrients, that comprised the slimy oatmeal-like paste we subsisted on while aboard the Elnor.

  The Elnor. Wow! That seems like a lifetime ago.

  I’m filled with anxiety and fear, but the raw terror has left me now that the Sentinels have left. I begin to grow more aware of my surroundings, and my aching body.

  The Toad-scum is drying on my legs, while the Aurelian’s cum is still glistening on my thighs. I shudder. I feel so dirty.

  It’s not the seed of my triad that makes me feel dirty, though. I wear that with pride. There was nothing dirty about the Aurelians pressing their sweaty skin against mine, mixing our scents together. I can feel the taste of them on me. My sensitive nose – enhanced the moment I became Bonded – can single out each of their individual, masculine musks – and I breathe in deeply of them.

  Likewise, though, I can almost taste the fear radiating from Tessa. I must have gained the Aurelians’ ability to discern emotions from scent alone – detecting the whiff of hormones and neurotransmitters released by her body. My sense of smell has been powerfully enhanced through the Bond – as too has the ability to single out or ignore individual scents, which is why I’m not gagging at the assault of smells aboard this ship.

  It’s just one more of the many benefits that come from being Bonded.

  I’d heard them all, but even in the era of Queen Jasmine and her Bonded triad, the rumors sounded more like magic than biology. Yet, all the rumors were true. I feel stronger, faster, and more focused. My senses are attuned, and my brain whirrs like a computer. I feel more powerful than I ever have before – even when I was fighting alongside Ling.

  But no matter how powerful I feel, I’m still trapped. My enhanced abilities are useless trapped in here.

 

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