Likewise, instead of skin baked sun-brown, I’d imagined the delicacy of their paler bodies, untouched by the searing rays of the Deemak sun. They must look so elegant and otherworldly as a man stripped the clothes from them.
Back then, I’d run my hand through my tangled hair, because I’d be most jealous of the way the hair of these wealthy women fell so sleekly past their shoulders – like something alive, flowing and perfect.
My own hair still doesn’t even reach my shoulders. Long hair is a detriment in my profession - it can be grabbed when you’re attempting to make a close escape, and I’ve had too many close calls as it is to ever risk growing it out.
Besides, I guess I’m used to having tangled, wild curls that misbehave constantly. There are so many more productive uses of my time than endlessly brushing my hair.
I mean, I’m grateful to Sarah. Whatever oil she put in my hair was magical - and probably cost its weight in gold – but even if I had the impossible wealth of these three Aurelians, I don’t know how much I’d ever invest in something as seemingly inconsequential as hair.
…although Sarah did an amazing job. Now, I have a luxurious, if short mane of gleaming curls that I would have never believe could be growing out of my own head!
Sector 1 women never came to the areas of the city I frequent, but I imagine they’d be even more beautiful. It’s not just the oils, and lotions, and stylists and clothes that made them so. Rich women got to feel relaxed and pampered in their daily lives; and they wore that life of luxury on their faces like blush or lipstick.
That’s why I never felt that bad when I snuck near them, lightly taking their coin purses or money clips; my hands gently lifting watches and bracelets when the opportunity arose. It felt like taking reparations! I would take their spoils and then disappear like a ghost; leaving them with their comfort and beauty.
That’s all I was to the women of Sector 2. A ghost.
Those memories seem like a lifetime away from where I stand now, so I return to the moment and plot my next move.
I said I’d clean – so clean I shall.
I take a duster and a clean cloth, grinning wickedly to myself. I know I should take the watches and leave… but I’m drawn to this opulent, impossible home, and the three gorgeous alien men who own it. I should take my prize and disappear before I’m exposed…
…but this luxury is welcoming, and the feeling of being desired by those three gorgeous Aurelians is addictive.
I’ve only ever felt the disgusting gaze of cutthroats and thugs before – the men who frequent The Stag. They look at me like a forbidden fruit – one they want to take a big, juicy bite from just to taste me, and then toss me to the garbage.
Darr has always kept a menacing, protective aura over me… but, sometimes, even he would look at me with desire in his eyes. Desire that he held back – just like Cyrus did, when I teased him earlier.
Only, with Cyrus it’s different. He made me feel sexy… Excited…
When Darr looked at me, horny and hungry, it made me feel disgusting – like an object. When all those men looked at me, I didn’t feel shy… I felt threatened.
But when these Aurelians look at me? I feel protected. I feel desired in a way I didn’t know I ever could. I feel like a precious object – an irreplaceable work of art – rather than just an object to fuck.
A precious object that will lose all its value once it’s been owned. Aurelians love virginity, and they are drawn to women they’ve never been with before – women like you.
That’s your allure, Mia. This is just an illusion, all of this. It’s just a spell that will dissipate the moment you let those Aurelians claim you.
Men are all the same.
I force the thoughts out of my mind. They make me sad – and even more so, because I know them to be true. It’s so tempting to surrender to Cyrus’s less-than-subtle advances. It would be so easy to allow Varian to sate the hunger I see in his eyes by granting him my virgin body.
But I can’t allow myself to indulge those desires. I need to remember that the moment I do – the moment those three towering aliens confirm that I’m not their Fated Mate – they’ll instantly lose interest in me. I can’t allow their yearning gaze to disappear, or let their adoration spark first as brutish lust, but then dampen into vague indifference. I like the way these gorgeous alien warriors make me feel, and if I want to enjoy it for a little bit longer – before I escape with my stolen bounty, and begin my journey to Oasis – I’ll have to control my own desires.
The moment I take those watches and leave, a timer will start – ticking away until I either escape, or the clock runs out and my life will effectively be over.
When I grab those priceless wristwatches, I’ll have to sneak out of this mansion undiscovered, and then give the watches to Darr.
Next, I’ll have to lay low until he successfully sells them, collects the money, and gives me my cut. That’s the scary part of it. I have a feeling that Cyrus, Gallus and Varian won’t take the theft lightly, even if the value of those watches is only a drop from their massive ocean of
