Our Fated Mate.
So, these feelings I have for Mia. This powerful attraction. I already feel like I’ve lost her, before I’ve even had her.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
It’s Gallus. He looks at me wryly as he loads up our newly acquired paintings.
I hate to be so easily read. It’s obvious, though.
“I am.” My voice is bitter. “I haven’t wanted a woman so badly since Lalana.”
Just the mention of my name fills Gallus’s aura with a surge of grief. He’s not sad for her – although he cared for her a lot. No, he’s sad because of how much he knew her loss impacted me. He grieves for the part of me that died the same day she did.
I look up at my leader.
“I can tell you’re thinking about her, too.”
Gallus shakes his head.
“It’s only because she doesn’t give herself up so easily. You understand that.”
He gestures towards the paintings.
“I know you love the thrill of acquisition more than the acquisition itself. It’s the same for me and Mia. We haven’t met a woman who was a challenge in centuries.”
A challenge. Is that all she is to us?
Will we conquer the challenge? Claim her? Then discard her?
But Gallus is right. The thrill of the hunt is exciting. Aurelians rarely have the chance to experience the thrill of seducing and claiming a woman, because we have droves of them eagerly lining up to join our harems. Women are constantly throwing themselves at us – some of them literally, as they stagger into our arms and plead to join us.
But not Mia.
No, this is something… more.
“You know your words aren’t truthful, Gallus. There’s more to it than that.”
My battle-brother meets my gaze. He raises an eyebrow.
“You can smell it,” I challenge him. “The strongest scent yet. As if she’s… right.”
Gallus’s face is a mask. I know he suspects what I’m saying to be true, and I know it scares him to admit it.
“She might be our mate, Gallus. It’s not impossible.”
Gallus presses the button, opening the side door. The oppressive heat of Deemak floods inside our ship. It’s a harsh, dry air, but I’ve become used to it.
As we clamber out, Gallus throws me a look. It’s a rare look – as a leader, not a brother-in-arms.
“It’s not impossible… But highly, infinitesimally unlikely.” He slaps my shoulder. “Don’t get your hopes up, Varian. It’s always the same – and I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
I nod, forcing out the heart-pounding hope that had built up inside of me.
He’s right. I know he’s right. That’s why he’s our leader.
It will be the same. It’s always the same.
One moment of pure ecstasy, as you plunge your cock into an innocent, untouched virgin. Then, there’s the crushing realization that she’s nothing more than every other woman we’ve met. The moment of seeding her feels like a waste; as unsatisfying as jerking yourself off.
We step out of the shuttle and onto the cobblestone path leading to our home. The ground is sure and certain under my feet, and I drop into a combat stance before I right myself.
Gallus snorts. He finds my behavior amusing. It’s been hundreds of years since I had to kill or fight, but you never forget those instincts. Even today, even in my own home, my eyes dart left and right as soon as I enter a new area; scanning our surroundings for any sign of danger.
But what danger is there here? On a peaceful world, in a towering mansion, surrounded by beautiful women?
My vigilance fades. Together, Gallus and I take the paintings – holding them carefully, by the string tied to the back, so as not to let the natural oils of our fingertips spoil the sculpted waves of the now-rigid paint.
The paintings are splendid – no matter how much or little you appreciate art.
They depict the spirit of independent humanity – a tribute to the woman and men of the so-called Independence Movement, who do not bow to Aurelians.
There’s a certain irony to owning these painting – given that we are the oppressors so grimly depictured in them. Yet, they give an insight into the human mind I welcome. They demonstrate the stubborn, childlike streak the human race has; so eager to cast off the shackles of protection and comfort, and embrace the chaos and misery of freedom.
Freedom… What an illusion.
To a human, I might look free – but I’m not.
No, I’m trapped by a face. By the curves of a female body. I’m obsessed with Mia.
I imagine the sweetness of taming Mia beneath me – of molding her into the perfect little submissive toy. The more she resists, the sweeter the moment of surrender will eventually be.
We walk towards our manor. A few of the women of our harem are here to greet us, but they see our stern, serious expressions. I have no time for them.
The towering palace rivals that of this world’s King and ruling family; and in many ways our fortune is greater than his.
But it didn’t happen by accident. All this – the estate, the shuttle and the servants – are the fruit of hundreds of years of business deals and hard work.
But it is a fruit without a seed.
We have not found our Fated Mate. As the centuries progress, we start to lose hope that we ever will. We’ve taken to distracting ourselves – with Gallus’s art, and my wine – but when we’re finally bone and dust, what good will those have brought us?
We have no sons to teach our ways and passion to. We do not have a mate, to seed and spoil. There will be nothing greater to replace us when we’re gone.
The doors to our manor open, and I nearly drop the priceless painting to the ground.
I can feel the awe in Gallus’s aura – a sudden an awe that mirrors my own.
It’s her
…but it’s not her.
When we first saw Mia, she had a tangled mess for hair. Her beautiful face was dirty and bruised.
Now, she has been
