by Corin Cain
It’s crazy to imagine. Aurelians have hundreds of human women vying for their attention. Their species is infinite for building huge harems of eager volunteers.
Yet, in my case, I’m the only woman any of these Aurelians want. It’s hard to believe, but as the three of them scan the droves of topless women, there’s isn’t even a hint of lust within their auras. They’re looking at all these beautiful women, sure – but only for the only purpose of finding my little sister among them.
Yet, every face is a disappointment.
I knew it was crazy to think I’d find Lilac immediately – conveniently serving drinks or dealing Blackjack – but some part of me had visualized the joy of seeing my little sister – just a little older than when I last saw her – in the crowd. My triad would then begin the negotiations for buying her, and we’d peacefully and discreetly end the horror of her kidnapping.
The three Aurelians haven’t ever seen Lilac, but I know they’ll identify her if they see her. When she was taken, three years earlier, you could have mistaken her and I for twins. My only fear is that the harshness of life as a slave hasn’t hardened her looks to the point that I wouldn’t recognize her.
Oh, Gods! Stop, Allie! You’re already thinking she’s alive again. Curse this poison of hope the Aurelians warn about. Curse it!
Daccia turns to Giovanni and asks the greasy-haired henchman: “When can we speak with the owner. Where is Mr. Torelli?”
“Right this way, sir.”
20
Daccia
I feel naked without my weapon.
No, that’s not quite true.
I don’t feel naked, or defenseless – I know with my hands alone, I could break the backs of a dozen human men.
Instead, I feel the lure of thought before feeling – of self-doubt – which I must never let materialize inside my mind. At times like these, even a shred of doubt could poison my aura – and all three of those I share it with would sense it.
No, I must remain stoic. I am a rock for the three people I am Bonded with – who I am responsible for. My triad has grown to encompass four now, and I will continue to lead them.
I follow the greasy little sleaze-ball, Giovanni, back into the elevator. The small man is nearly drooling in anticipation at the thought of bringing what he believes to be three high-rolling investors to his master. The host slicks back his hair back as we enter the elevator, and I can smell his nervousness. It’s a rank stench on his already unpleasant scent.
Giovanni takes us back to the top floor, and then scans a card that grants access to an even higher level – parallel to the towering glass ceiling high above the landing bay.
I remember the little man using that card – logging the information away in case we ever need to take that access card from his body.
The elevator doors open – revealing a hallway lined with a thick, purple carpet.
Two burly guards in suits stand there, with guns at their hips. They try to look intimidating – but even without our Orb-Weapons, I know my triad could get to those guards and disarm them before they could even draw their weapons.
No, they aren’t the threat. The two high-powered rifle barrels, mounted to swivels hanging from the ceiling, are a different story. They’re pointing straight at us. The guards we could quickly overpower. The rifles would cut us down before we got halfway to them, however.
“Right this way.” Giovanni leads us forward, and I sense his nervousness increases. This Mr. Torelli character can’t be an easy boss to work for – not by the way Giovanni’s anxiety is increasing with every step he takes towards the thick, wooden door at the end of the hallway.
We finally reach it. Giovanni opens the door, revealing a huge room with a big, wooden desk in the center of it.
Behind the desk sits an Aurelian, just like us.
So, this is Mr. Torelli.
The Aurelian is older than me – deep into middle age, and at least fifteen-hundred-years-old. He’s let his body degrade over the centuries – growing corpulent and weak. I keep my sense of disgust inside.
“Mr. Torelli, I assume.”
The Aurelian stands. He has dead-looking eyes, even for the usual slate-grey of our species. His out-of-shape bulk is clad in a fine suit.
“Good detective work,” the owner of the club nobs. “I take it that’s what you are, then? Detectives?”
He’s not exactly subtle.
I laugh coldly. “Yeah. I’m looking to buy girls because I’m an Aurelian Law Enforcement agent.”
Now he’s standing, I can clearly see Torelli’s huge, paunch belly – straining against his dress shirt. A thick gold chain dangles from his thick neck. I want to reach forward, grab it, and choke this crime boss out with it.
Instead, when Torelli extends his fleshy hand, I shake it.
“You know what they say about an Aurelian without a triad?” I look Torelli straight in his cold, dead eyes through the tint of my goggles.
“I do,” he nods. “That he didn’t protect his triad – and that’s true.” Then the man snorts. “I didn’t protect my triad. I killed them myself. They were too loyal to the Empire, and I was too loyal to gold.”
My muscles tense up beneath the material of my suit – but I force myself to stay calm.
Behind me, the auras of Kitos and Hadrian flare with fiery anger. They’re already ready to kill this man.
Torelli laughs, apparently delighting in our discomfort. His eyes are still – like the cold, dead stares of Scorp when they come charging for you.
I sense that while Torelli might be an Aurelian in flesh and blood, he’s really a reptile beneath that skin.
He looks us up and down, before murmuring:
“Maybe you aren’t Law Enforcement, then. I doubt any of those bastards could stand there without immediately trying to rip my throat out with their bare hands murdering my triad.”
Oh, we’re close to that, you bastard.
Torelli continues: “Of course, if you tried that, you’d be dead before you’d get half way across the room.” He gestures to the chairs in front of his huge desk. “Now, let’s talk business, shall we? Why don’t you sit down?”
His dead eyes flicker across to Allie – looking her up and down and licking his lips hungrily.
“That’s a pretty little slut you’ve got there. She’s your type, I presume? Strong and curvy?”
My hands nearly ball into fists at the leering disrespect he shows our Fated Mate – but I must resist my urge to teach this bastard some respect.
Remember, this is just like any other undercover assignment, Daccia. Maintain your cover!
"Get down!" Kitos barks at Allie in a rough tone – as if he’s addressing a dog. Allie immediately sinks down to the ground. I hate to see her humiliated like this, but we need to keep up appearances – and there’s no way we’d have trusted her to stay alone at the hotel.
I take a seat in one of the chairs, opposite Torelli’s desk.
"She's exactly my type,” I growl. “I didn't see too many girls like her out on the floor. Do you have anything similar?"
Anything, not anyone. As if these girls are objects, not living people.
I study Torelli’s face – looking into his cold, dead eyes for any clue that he’s seen a girl exactly like Allie before. I know how similar the two sisters look.
However, his eyes stay dead and empty. If he has seen Allie’s sister, he’s not giving that knowledge away.
Instead, Torelli peers across his desk toward our kneeling mate. I hate that his gaze can even touch her. It makes my skin crawl. He’s unworthy to even look at my mate.
Maybe I’ll take his eyes from him, when this is all over.
Torelli keeps scanning us. “Why are you wearing glasses?”
"We took some hits en route,” I try to sound nonchalant about it. “Space-pirates. The area is crawling with them. They ruptured some systems in our ship and we got coolant gas in the eyes.” I snort theatrically. “Fucking painful.”
/> “I’m sure,” Torelli breathes quietly.
He didn’t take the bait, so I press him further.
“You know anything about the pirates in this area? We want revenge."
Torelli licks his lips. It’s the first time his body language hasn’t seemed artificial.
“Revenge is not usually a profitable endeavor,” the crime boss muses. “I have no interest in unprofitable endeavors.”
Then, his cold eyes narrow.
“In fact, you’re starting to sound a lot like a cop.”
I don’t respond. In many conversations like this, the man who speaks first loses.
Instead, I keep my eyes trained on his. Torelli narrows his eyes slightly, and continues:
“You know, Law Enforcement doesn’t have any jurisdiction out this far – and I sure as hell don’t have an interstellar warrant on my head.”
That’s true – he doesn’t have a warrant. There’s no record of Torelli, or his crimes. I don’t know if he ever had a triad, and I can’t confirm his boast that he murdered them. In every way, this mysterious Aurelian is an enigma.
“Stop stalling,” I snap. “What’s the price per head?”
There’s a twitch in Torelli’s jaw. I’m sensing things about his body language I would never have noticed before. It seems the Bond has increased my sense of perception, just as it’s made me stronger and faster.
This additional information reveals to me that Torelli is growing ever-more suspicious by the second. I wish I had my Orb-Blade at my side – because the more the tension rises, the quicker I sense that violence will erupt.
Torelli leans forward, perhaps thinking the same thing.
“I don’t have an interstellar warrant on my head, he repeats, “but if three Law Enforcement agents caught me selling girls, I sure as fuck would get one. Prostitution is one thing. Actual involvement in the slave trade is another. I've got no interest in having three triads come here with Orb-Weapons drawn, ready to arrest me.”
He narrows his eyes.
“How did you find me?”
Hadrian’s aura flares with impatience. Before I can stop him, he barks out: “We’re not fucking cops.”
Unfortunately, I sense that Hadrian’s denial is all the proof Torelli needs to be convinced we are Law Enforcement agents.
“You’re not?” Torelli scoffs. “I don’t fucking believe you!”
Torelli reaches down – and before I can react, he presses something beneath his desk.
Holes suddenly open in the walls to our left and right. Tiny little holes – with red, laser tracers emerging from them.
The red dots paint our bodies. Each one is presumably connected to a weapon. If Torelli presses that button again, we’ll all be mincemeat.
Not a word is said.
Hadrian and Kitos are tense – literally vibrating with energy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I make sure that Allie is low enough to the ground to be beneath the gunsights. I thank the Gods she is. If the weapons start shooting, she’ll survive, at least – and with her concealed weapons, amidst the chaos that follows, she’ll at least have a chance to escape.
Torelli stares at us with his dead eyes. He doesn’t say a word, waiting for us to snap first.
The tension grows and grows – like drops of water into an over-filled glass, ready to spill over the moment the surface of the water breaks...
Only, in this instance it’s not going to be water that’s spilled.
Finally, I speak:
“You know, Torelli – it’s hard to get blood stains out of a carpet, and this is a very nice carpet you have.”
Torelli stares at me for a second, and I wonder if I’ve just signed our death warrants.
Then, suddenly, he laughs – low and cruel.
“You think you can just walk in here on my fucking turf, wave some money around, and I’ll fall for it? You stink of Law Enforcement. I might be a businessman, but I'm not stupid. I’m not going to risk getting my fucking head chopped off with the promise of a few easy bucks. When you get on the Aurelian Kill list, there's only one way off of it...”
By being killed.
Torelli growls: “You're going to need to prove to me you're not cops.”
Prove we’re not cops? How?
I take a deep breath. I suddenly have the feeling I’m going to have to murder an innocent to win this man’s trust.
I’m shocked I’d even consider such a thing – but I would. I don’t know how far I can degrade myself for the sake of Allie and her sister, but I know I’d do terrible things to win her heart and trust.
“Okay,” I challenge Torelli. “How?”
Torelli smiles. This time, it actually reaches his eyes.
“Aurelian Law Enforcement might bring in a fake pleasure slave – just to make them look like they’d gone Rogue. However, they wouldn’t fuck her – especially not with people watching.”
Ha! I can see where this is going.
Torelli reaches down slowly – and, for a second, I think he's going to have a change of heart, and press the button beneath his desk. If he did that, those automatically aimed guns would turn us all into mincemeat.
Instead, he presses on his comms-link instead.
"Giovanni. Prepare the stage. The Aurelians are going to put on a little show.”
I clench my fists, but I keep my emotions in check. We’re now facing an impossible choice between blood, violence, and dishonor.
When we came to The Rhino tonight, I’d had no idea we’d be going up against an Aurelian. He wants us to know who the Top Dog is around here…
…and he’s not going to let us out alive if we don’t fuck Allie in front of him, and the rest of the patrons of this establishment.
But I can’t do that to my unwilling mate…
Allie has made her distrust of us clear. She’s told us what she needs from us to prove our allegiance to her. Even then, we all sense her clear distrust of us.
So, we can’t do this.
No – instead we’ll fight, and bleed, and die if that’s what is necessary to preserve her honor.
21
Allie
Oh, Gods!
I’m going to get fucked! Fucked in front of a huge crowd of stranger!
I’m going to face the humiliation and shame of being bred by these three, huge Aurelians – all while strangers jeer and watch. A shudder of humiliating lust crawls down my spine. I suddenly feel the strangest heat between my legs.
I reach out to the auras dwelling in my mind.
Hadrian and Kitos are both balls of pure, raging fire.
Daccia is nothing – as cold and emotionless as usual.
Then, suddenly, he speaks – but not with words. Telepathically, through the Bond:
“We can fight him. Say the word, Allie. We’ll do it in the elevator, away from his weapons.”
I realize with horror that Daccia is suggesting we fight our way out of The Rhino, rather than submit to Torelli’s disgusting challenge.
We’ll fight out way out – without weapons!
I can’t imagine we’ll get far. If we manage to reach it, the elevator might not have weapons inside it – but this whole whorehouse of a club is like a trap.
But I feel a surge of affection realizing that Daccia would rather fight and die than pressure me to do something I don’t want to. If I said the word, my triad would fight and die for my honor alone.
But I’m not going to let them die – not just to get out of the shame of being taken, hard, in front of a crowd of strangers.
If that’s what we have to do to prove to Torelli that we’re not working for the Aurelian Law Enforcement agency, and win his reluctant trust, then that’s what we’ll have to do.
If Torelli has any information about my sister, we’re not going to get it by killing him – or by letting him kill us.
“It’s okay,” I telepath to the triad. “We can do it. We have to.”
Daccia never changes his outward expression,
but the edge of near-violence dissipates from his aura.
He turns to Torelli, and sneers: “You want us to fuck this little slut? In front of a crowd?”
Torelli stares at him, emotionless.
After what seems like an eternity of staring at each other, Daccia snorts:
“Fine!” Then his eyes narrow beneath his goggles. “But after we get through this carnival act, Torelli, we’re going to talk business. Real business – not this small-time shit.”
I control my breathing. I can feel the creeping shame building and building inside of me. I try not to image how slutty I’ll feel when these three, huge warriors begin fucking me into submission – in front of countless, eager eyes.
I’m still kneeling on the carpet, head turned down as an obedient slave’s should be.
Like that, it’s hard to see the faces of the Aurelians – but I can see Torelli’s brows draw down.
He’s surprised. Surprised that Daccia would accept his challenge – because he knows no Aurelian Law Enforcement agent would fuck a real slave – or a woman pretending to be one – as part of an investigation.
Torelli is distrustful, but he’s clearly a man of twisted pride. The crime boss nods.
“Once I know you’re not agents,” he sneers, “the sky is the limit. But first? I need to see you go through with this. Talk is cheap.”
That greasy slime-ball, Giovanni, suddenly appears behind us. I can smell his hair oil, even though I can’t see him positioned like this. The way the Bond has enhanced my senses has made me so much more aware of everything around me – sights, sounds, and especially smells.
“I’m here, boss. What do you need?”
Torelli growls: “Escort them to the stage. I'll be watching. You can tell a man's business sense by the way he fucks.” The crime boss snorts. “If he’s too gentle, you know he's pussy bitch. Too rough, and you know he has no finesse.” Torelli’s eyebrows raise sickeningly. “When I fuck my whores, I make them scream my name – over and over again."