Cyrus raises his hand, cutting me off.
“No – you’re not like them,” he says cryptically. I can’t quite figure out what he means by that, and he seems just as surprised that he said the words himself. His eyebrows sharpen into an inquisitive v-shape, and he gives me a long, strange look…
…then, he shrugs and reaches into the bucket of ice. “Juice?”
“Honey-fruit, please,” I say, and he opens a bottle of the sweet nectar. I take it gratefully and drink deeply. The sweetness is deliciously refreshing on my tongue.
Feeling refreshed, I raise my eyes and truly look at Cyrus – for perhaps the first time.
He’s slimmer than Gallus, but still muscled like an athlete. His toga only covers part of his immense chest, and exposes both his huge, muscular arms – rippling and veined. I suddenly find myself imagining what it would feel like to have his huge, heavy bulk pressing me down against a bed, while those huge hands spread my thighs, and…
Stop it, Mia!
I force the thought out of my mind, feeling a tightness in my chest…
…and a heat between my thighs.
Darr has always kept me safe from the unwelcome advances of men. Even if he wasn’t there, I never really found myself attracted to anyone deeply. Not in the way people talk about. Not in the way the love songs promise.
I’ve never truly felt attracted to anyone before…
…until this moment.
Now we’re out of the heat – now that I’m away from the eyes of the crowd, and have a belly full of sweet and refreshing honey-fruit - I can finally look at this member of that Aurelian triad objectively…
…and he takes my breath away.
Cyrus is fucking gorgeous, which is a strange thing to think about a man. Shouldn’t they be handsome? Hot?
Well, Cyrus is both of those things… Yet more.
His high cheekbones give him an air of elegance and refinement. His long, wavy, playful hair draws the eye. I force myself to look away from him, taking another sip of juice hoping that the cold drink will quell my hot desires.
Cyrus, however, just keeps looking at me – the heat of those slate-grey eyes burning into me.
For a moment, I ignore it – sure he’ll look away at any moment…
…but then he doesn’t.
Finally, I snap – looking sharply at him and demanding: “What?”
I feel self-conscious beneath his gaze.
Cyrus doesn’t answer, though. He just smiles slightly, shaking his head and giving me the weirdest look.
“I don’t know,” he eventually murmurs. “You smell…”
I open my mouth to object – it’s not my fault! It’s hot, and I’ve been sweating!
“…right,” he finishes.
I blink.
I smell right?
My cheeks flush. I blurt out: “Stop smelling me!”
For an awkward moment, we both stare at each other…
…and then we both burst out into laughter. It just feels… right.
In fact, I laugh so hard it hurts – although that might be because Darr backhanded me hard to make the injury to my face believable, and my head is still ringing from the blow.
Cyrus sees me wince in pain. His expression tightens with concern.
“Mia? Are you alright?”
I nod, shaking my head to lessen the pain. Cyrus growls, reaching over to gently touch the injury on my face. For a second I let him – and then I realize how intimate it feels, and I back away.
“Only a coward hits a woman,” he snarls.
A coward…
…or a greedy brute. Darr isn’t the first of those things, but he’s most certainly the second.
Cyrus reaches to the ice bucket and pulls a big, dripping chunk of ice from the frigid water. With his left hand, he rips a piece of his toga off. My eyes widen at the effortless display of strength. Then, he wraps the scrap of cloth around the ice and passes it to me gently.
“Here, put this against the wound.”
I take the makeshift icepack gratefully from his hands. When his fingers touch mine, I feel that intimacy again. In fact, I get that same tingle as when Gallus covered my hand in his huge palm.
I try to ignore the sensation – it makes me feel deeply vulnerable. I’m used to expecting men to use their bodies against me, through violence or intimidation – but now it’s my own body threatening to betray me.
I press the ice against my bruise and feel instant relief. Darr didn’t go easy with the slap and it made my head ring so badly my vision went blurry.
“You’re the first Aurelians I’ve ever spoken to,” I admit, as the cold water runs down my cheek.
In fact, I’ve tried my best to avoid the species whenever possible. There’s no reason to risk my freedom – and on a frontier world like this, there’s no guarantee that any Aurelians I might encounter would abide by the rules of the Empire, which forbids slavery.
Aurelians who’ve abandoned the rules of the Empire are classified as Rogue; and many collect human women for their harem whether those women want to be part of them or not – and that’s despite the legions of willing volunteers who’d gladly take the place of the unwilling ones.
There are enough rich, foolish humans who don’t have the same heightened senses as I do. Let them fall foul of the alien species.
And yet, while I say that – here I am; sitting in a luxury shuttle with one of the very same creatures I’d sworn to steer clear of; even knowing the rumors about their kind.
But which of the rumors are true? For example, can they truly smell your fear? Can they truly…
I gulp.
…sense whether you’re a virgin or not?
The shuttle lifts off and tears through the city, roughly fifty feet above the ground. It flies above all but the high-rise buildings of the capital city, and those are few in number. Most of the building
