Even worse, Kitos is acting like it’s entirely natural for me to be leashed to his wrist. Where he walks, I must follow – and I do…
…but I sense he takes a perverse pleasure in it. Almost as if this is where he thinks I belong.
Ah, fuck it. As long as Kitos is doing what I need him to do, I’ll go along with all this - and I won’t think too deeply about how right it feels to be collared to the powerful alien.
I know the Bond is lying dormant in the recesses of my mind – almost as if it’s mocking me. I’d long for any excuse to blame my feelings and behaviors on the power and influence of the Bond, but it’s as if – just to prove a point – the mysterious force is making me delight in this humiliation willingly. It’s almost like it wants me to accept that I’m wildly turned on by being leashed to Kitos – without any additional, supernatural interference.
I’m glad the Bond is lying in wait. I need my wits about me for this mission.
We walk the hallway to the elevator. Kitos talks as he strides.
“When we get there, keep your eyes down. In fact, keep them down even now. Everyone watching you will expect you to be a well-trained pleasure slave if we’re going to be taken seriously. Understand?”
“I understand.”
Kitos stops, turning to face me. I nearly bump into him. “From now on, you call me Master.”
I swallow hard. Kitos’ eyes suddenly flash green – as if he’s becoming more powerfully Bonded to me by the second.
“Yes… Master,” I say, getting into character. The words come out soft and low, and I instantly feel more submissive to him.
I’m starting to realize there are two sides to me. There’s the tough, defiant, and resilient woman I’ve had to become – first trying to protect my little sister, and then just trying to survive. As that woman, I’ve become hard and cold.
But then there’s the other woman inside of me – the one that only comes out on those oh-so-rare occasions in which I feel I’m safe. Like when I’m protected by these three towering, dominant Aurelian warriors, and not just hustling to survive.
I reach to my right arm, gently touching the tiny bulge which conceals that shock-emitting weapon I had implanted there – and then reactivated by Daccia. It reassures me. If any man touches me – and human, at least – they most likely won’t survive the encounter.
As if any man would dare touch me!
I’ll be walking into The Rhino – a place where any single woman would normally be ground up and spat out, sticky and used – and I have nothing to fear; because I’m in the company of these three dangerously intimidating behemoths. In this pleasure dress, I might look like their purchased whore – but being the assumed property of an Aurelian triad comes with its own set of privileges.
The elevator doors open to the landing bay at top of the hotel. Our Reaver rests there, amidst the civilian vessels, looking venomous, hulking, and ready to do battle.
However, tonight, our ride is a small, sleek black shuttle. There’s no driver – as it is driven by an AI civilian transport computer.
The doors of the shuttle open as we approach it. Dacca takes the controls, preferring to pilot the vessel manually. The ship’s engines hum and we take off. We’re all silent as we look down at the bleak landscape below.
Part of me hopes Lilac isn’t on this world. Even the free people here are suffering – and I can’t imagine the use and abuse a slave would encounter here; especially a forced sex worker. The customers she’d have to service would be poor, with no reason to live, and what money she’d receive from them would be far beneath the disgust and indignity of her nonconsensual work…
But that sort of customer would be exactly the kind of man who’d take his frustrations out on a woman – to try and make themselves feel powerful again.
Fragile masculinity, I believe, is the greatest threat to women in this universe.
And from what I’ve seen? All masculinity is fragile.
“Arriving in one minute,” Daccia states coolly. I reach through the Bond to feel his aura more intensely.
He’s like ice. There’s no emotion coming from him. I can now see why Hadrian and Kitos follow Daccia as their leader. When it comes to it, he’s as emotionless as the marble his magnificent body appears to be carved from.
By contrast, Hadrian is a roaring ball of pent-up violence.
Kitos is stressed – a constant, anxious energy like a spring wound up too tightly.
Daccia, always, is like a glacier. If someone start firing at us right now, I can tell he’d keep his aura completely and utterly emotionless – ready to deal with the threat.
That’s who I want to be. That’s who I need to be.
My mind is all screwed up. I want to trust them. I wish I could. I want to believe it’s not just the promise of their natural-born, warrior sons that makes these three magnificent Aurelians want to keep me safe and protected...
...but it’s impossible to convince myself. The Aurelian species is just too wound up in their obsession with the Bond – of finding their one true mate. They’re so obsessively focused that they can’t – won’t – do anything except force me onto an impossible pedestal – rejoicing in me as a savior of their species.
And, once they get me alone, those three gorgeous bastards will turn me into a breeding slave – rutted, and seeded, and forced to bear them son, after son, after son.
Queen
