Then, Kitos snorts.
“But I’m not bitter. No women I’ve ever been with has satisfied me, Allie. They were all like ghosts compared to the real thing. It’s just strange going from thinking your world and life will go in one direction, and then suddenly seeing it diverted completely off course.”
I know exactly what he fucking means!
A week ago, if you’d told me I’d wind up on an Aurelian ship, about to touch down on a garbage planet like Sulcus, I’d have booked the first space-craft off the planet first.
But what was the direction of my life, anyway?
I’d thought I’d be stripping for the greedy eyes of men for the indefinite future. I thought I’d probably spend the rest of my life hiding out, on the run, and barely scraping a living.
Instead, I’m now plotting the horrific betrayal of three honorable, bold and sexy warriors – all of whom profess to adore me, and all of whom imagine I’m eager to become their supplicant little housewife and breeding slave.
Suddenly, I’ve made my choice.
The only way I’ll ever be free of these men are if they’re executed. I can’t trust that whatever ability I have to “mute” the Bond will be enough to escape them.
It makes me feel terrible to even consider this horrific, shameful course of action – but I didn't consent to have them blossom in my mind. I didn't consent to have them linked to me for all eternity. I didn't want to see Daccia's boyish grin, or ask to experience the thrills of Kitos' dark, dominant side. I never requested to feel the devotion of warriors who one second treat you gruffly, and the next worship you like a goddess; and the very reason for their being.
I know I'm not a good person. I don't need to be. I just need to be a strong person.
The second I've gleaned everything these aliens can tell me about my sister’s disappearance, I need to turn them over to that other triad of Aurelian Law Enforcement agents and get the fuck off the planet. Or, alternatively, I can remain there – hidden in plain sight. I can blend into this rough, polluted frontier world. I can disappear into its dark underbelly.
And I’ve never been better prepared to do it.
I don't just have my concealed weapons back. I don't just have the highly-lethal electro-shock emitter concealed in my arm – which can be used once a day to kill even a three-hundred-pound man, or the shift-blocking device in my other arm.
I've now got something better.
The Bond.
I experimented with it when I woke. Normally, I could do thirty pushups in a row. Being an exotic dancer forced me to keep myself in good shape.
But this morning, I did a hundred pushups – without even breaking a sweat.
The rumors about the Bond are true. I'm suddenly stronger than the average human male – and the average man looks down on a woman as being weaker than he is.
If it now comes down to it, I could survive or even thrive among the dog-eat-dog underworld community here on this crime planet, because the one thing that had held me back before – my physical weakness compared to men – has been overcome.
That's what freedom is, isn't it?
The freedom to live. The freedom to die. The freedom to do either, on your own terms.
I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the rumble as our Reaver begins to break the atmosphere. I stumble as the artificial gravity adjusts to compensate, and Hadrian catches me in his huge arms.
I'm pulled against his massive chest, and even over the roar of the ship plunging through the burning atmosphere – I hear Hadrian’s heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It's so slow.
So regular.
And I'm going to be the reason it fucking stops.
But I won't let myself be a slave to any man – even these three gorgeous, towering warriors.
As I think that, the ship stabilizes. Daccia is piloting us expertly down to the smog-shrouded city below. I pull myself out of Hadrian's arms and press my face against the viewport.
Below sprawls the hellscape of an industrial city.
Skyscrapers loom above the clouds of black and yellow smoke, but it’s clear that most of the city inhabitants are living and working beneath that dense, choking shroud. In an age in which automation is so cheap and robotics are so accessible, the wages of a human worker have been driven so low that only those willing to work for less than the cost of maintaining robots and automation are hired.
I've seen the horrors produced by this kind of capitalism before. It never ends well. Some of those downtrodden workers will turn to theft to keep their bellies from gnawing with hunger.
Others to even worse crimes.
I truly believe that abiding by the standards of human morality is a luxury that requires at least the basic necessities of comfortable survival. When you're dying of hunger, you'll take from those weaker than you – it’s survival of the fittest.
I realize now that this is how I need to think. This is how I have to be, if I am ever going to survive out there in the cruel, uncaring universe all by myself.
I'm tired of being the one who gets everything taken from them. Whether it was those space-pirates taking my sister, or Spur taking the lion’s share of my hard-earned wages, I’ve always been the one left to survive on the scraps bigger, stronger men have left…
It's time for me to start getting what I want.
I demand: "Where are we staying?"
Hadrian cocks his head. "A surprisingly good hotel. Aurelian Credits go a long fucking way on a shithole planet like this. Thank the Gods for a base per diem!"
His tone is a little too haughty for my liking.
I sneer: "The reason your Aurelian Credits go so far is because most of this world is living in poverty – so the people who
