I step forward, into the room.
I’m barefoot, and wearing only my bra and a short skirt with a thin thong underneath. Obbit didn’t even give me the time to change into something more appropriate than the outfit these three Aurelians had seen me in on stage. Mind you, maybe that was smart. As soon as he’d told me what was expected of me, he probably anticipated that I’d take any chance to get away.
I gulp, and try to fake some of the bravado that helps me when I’m on stage.
“Hello, gentlemen.”
My smile is forced. I close the door behind me, cornering myself in this room with these three, huge warriors. Earlier, they’d been watching me from all the way at the back of the room; and their hot gazes had been the ones I’d been unable to ignore.
I hold my fake smile, scanning the three Aurelians closely – looking for any hint at who they might really be. They appear to be Rogue Aurelians – exiles who either deliberately left, or were cast out by the Empire. If that’s true, they’ll have no qualms against taking a woman by force, or purchasing her to add to their harem, as a slave.
But another possibility exists – that they’re merely posing as Rogue Aurelians, and in reality: They’re the Law.
If that’s the case – they’re after me for a reason other than my curves.
A low, violet-tinted light bathes the VIP room. There’s a bucket filled with ice and bottles of champagne on the low table in the center of the room. It’s not real champagne – which is an ancient, luxurious beverage made only on Old-Earth. This local liquor is a sparkling wine produced on planet Bara-KitosE and marketed specifically for Aurelians – at a mark-up equivalent to a week’s worth of my salary.
The wine remains untouched, though. Instead, the Aurelians are drinking in the sight of me.
The three of them wear identical, black suits – paired with ivory white dress shirts. Their clothes are tailored to fit their seven-feet-tall, wide and muscular frames. In their matching outfits, the three of them look like brothers. Their facial structures are even similar, though not identical. They have strong jaws, fierce slate-grey eyes, and broad faces that look like they could take absorb a punch and break the fist that delivered it without a flinch.
I know, though, that these three warriors aren’t triplets. Aurelian triads are a trio of warriors bonded by something far strong than blood – normally an act of comradeship in the heat of battle. They call it the Bond.
That would explain why, at their waists, the three Aurelians carry the hilts of their species’ signature Orb-Weapons. This trio must have served in the Aurelian Army at some point – or possibly even deserted to go Rogue before the conclusion of their hundred years of service.
I know the leader of the triad, Daccia, earned his position instinctively. When Aurelians bond as a triad, one is automatically recognized as the leader; without jealousy or conflict from the other two. Daccia even looks like a leader – standing slightly taller than the others, and in the center of the trio.
Daccia studies me coldly – his slate-grey eyes sending a shiver down my spine. For what seems like an eternity, he’s silent – before suddenly growling:
“You caught my eye… Scarlet.”
I cringe at the sound of my fake name.
“My triad requested to see you in private,” Daccia continues slowly, his voice deep and resonant in the closed room.
Scarlet. Daccia paused when he said my name. Does that mean he knows?
I nearly snort out loud.
Of course he knows that’s not your real name! None of the girls use their real name for stripping. A fake name doesn’t mean anything…
…it doesn’t mean they know.
I gulp dryly, and widen my forced smile.
Play the part, Allie. Don’t let your anxiety get the best of you. These three Aurelians could just be here for a good time – because you caught their eye.
It doesn’t mean they’re here for you.
“You’re so big!” I speak in a slight drawl – my ‘stage voice’ which I use to separate the roles of Allie and Scarlet. “You must be thirsty.”
I waltz to the champagne and drinks, trying to sashay my hips in that effortless, seductive way that Brienne does. With the roll of my hips and the touch of a southern accent under my tongue, I don’t feel like myself – like Allie – and that gives me a veneer of confidence I wouldn’t normally possess.
The seductive walk is strictly business – but the accent is to throw off any suspicion just in case these three Aurelians really are Law Enforcement. No one where I’m from spoke with such an accent growing up, so hopefully it will keep them off my trail.
The Aurelian to the right of Daccia steps forward.
“What’s your real name?” His voice is a low growl. I stop cold in my tracks, my mind racing.
“Tasha,” I say answer – the first name I can think of – but there’s a slight stutter in my voice. I know they must have detected it too – a clue that I’m still not being truthful with them.
Don’t panic, Allie. You’re a stripper – you’re not expected to be truthful with customers. Don’t assume anything about these three. Don’t make your situation worse with needless fears.
This second Aurelian is broader and bulkier than Daccia, with an enormous barrel chest. Danger radiates off of him – more so than it does from a regular Aurelian. Even by the standards of their deadly, warrior species, this one looks like a brutal fighter – a barely trained wolf, who’d kill and maim anyone his leader points him toward.
I take another step towards the champagne, wondering: Did I pause too long before saying the fake name?
It’s impossible to tell if the tension I sense from the Aurelians is because they’re Law Enforcement, operating undercover…
…or they just want to throw me to the ground and claim me.
I shudder
