Some part of me is still fully a thief – and I think it will always be that way. I didn’t climb those fruit trees as a child for nothing. It wasn’t just the hunger in my belly that had made me risk my life clambering up the knotted branches. I was also hungry for the challenge – to prove myself to myself.
I suddenly realize I don’t need to do exactly as Darr says any more – since this is my last job, after all. I’ll be rid of him soon enough, and so I don’t need to be concerned about what he’ll do to me if he figures out I disobeyed him.
I mean, I do need to be worried… but I’m already facing so much risk, what more would that be?
So, my brain suddenly starts ticking over. I can find my own valuables. I can pick my own riches from this veritable orchard, just like I plucked that stolen fruit as a child.
I’ll scout out the mansion, and discover the easiest, smallest things to steal – along with those Gods be damned watches for Darr, of course.
Then, when it’s time to leave, I can smuggle them all out, and Darr will never know about anything other than those watches.
When I finally get to Oasis, I can find my own fence, and sell my own stolen valuables, and keep all the profit.
My fingers twitch with excitement. Choosing items that can be effortlessly concealed and sold easily off-world will be essential to my plan, but I’ve had literally a lifetime of training to prepare for this. For example, I already know that if I choose gold to steal, I could melt it down and sell it legally, with no reason for proof of where I acquired it; and without some greedy fence taking the lion’s share of its value.
"The full book of the South American Plants of Old-Earth. That's hardly light reading."
The voice startles me. I swear, I jump a foot into the air, and I almost drop the precious tome.
Spinning around, I find Varian standing at the entrance to the library, well below me and twenty feet away. Cyrus and Gallus stand behind him.
The Aurelians have lived for hundreds of years, collecting reams of knowledge as valuable as any of their litany of precious collectables. A gift for languages and learning is clearly among those intangible riches.
I feel a momentary stab of shame. They must think of me as a stupid, young girl. How could these three wealthy, gorgeous, brilliant men look at me with anything other than mere lust?
How could they see me for anything deeper than my body and my innocence? They treat me attentively now – but once they’ve emptied their balls inside me, there’d be no respect for an uneducated, scrappy little thing like me. If they knew of my criminal past – not to mention my criminal future – they’d look at me with even more contempt. These are men who’ve built up an incredible empire all of their own; and I’m some bitter little wench here to steal scraps from it.
I clear my throat.
Remember the part you’ve got to play, Mia.
“I’ve never seen books like these before. They look ancient.”
Varian nods, stepping forward. “They are ancient.”
He moves like an animal of prey – lithe and languid, each motion of his beautifully muscular body only hinting at the strength, speed and power it could unleash.
Gods! That body!
True, he has a huge, strong body, but he's also as graceful as a panther. I wonder if he could jump right up to the second floor of the library without even needing the stairs. I put the book away and grab my duster.
"You guys don't take great care of this place," I say, running my finger along the wooden railing and holding it up. It does have a fine layer of dust on it. They may keep their treasures in perfect condition, but even these three apparently can’t keep everything perfect.
I feel a moment of fondness for them. Not being perfect is the one thing I’m good at.
"Then it's a good thing you're here now," states Gallus simply.
“Do something for me, Mia,” Gallus continues coolly. “I like to read a certain book before a big business deal. It’s by a man called Sun Tzu – a human, actually.”
I’d imagined these three had collected these books because of the value of them – as ancient collectables. It’s strangely reassuring to realize that the well-worn chairs below earned those polished patches in the leather for a reason; that they’d been occupied for countless hours as these three Aurelians also read their treasures.
“The book is called The Art of War, in its original language. You'll find it three shelves down. The books are organized in alphabetical order. Bring it down to us, if you would.”
My heart sinks.
There’s no way I can hide my ignorance now. The book might be in alphabetical order, but I barely even know the alphabet.
“I apologize, Gallus,” I murmur, feeling my deep shame crawling across my skin like the feet of a thousand scuttling cockroaches. “I… I don’t know how to read.”
The words hang in the air.
They were difficult to force out of my mouth – perhaps the most difficult I’ve ever had to speak. I’m a liar and a con-artist by trade, so to admit something so shameful, and vulnerable, and humbling…
Fuck.
Even now, I suddenly wish there was some way I could take those words back. I know my esteem has dropped even further in the eyes of these gorgeous, learned warriors. It sickens me. I feel disgusted with myself.
I should already hate the idea of them looking at me purely in bestial lust, but now I know my appeal will be even more superficial to them. I’m a dirt-poor, ignorant little waif who can barely even read. There is nothing else these three Aurelians could ever want from me – see in me – other than my virginal cunt, sucking mouth,
