The mating frenzy of Aurelians is infamous, throughout the universe. Upon completion of their hundred years of military service to the Empire, Aurelians spend the remaining thousands of years of life scouring the universe, searching for their fabled ‘Fated Mate’. The only way to confirm that a woman is their Bonded mate – the only woman in the universe genetically compatible with that specific triad, and able to bear their sons – is through the act of mating.
As a result, Aurelians descend into madness when they’re aroused. The brutality and need of their mating is unrivalled. If these three decide they want to claim my body, I won’t get out of this room unscathed. They’ll take me – and Spur and Obbit have made it clear I’m not to refuse them.
That means I have one chance, and one chance only.
I smile and uncork the champagne, giving a fake gasp at the sound of the pop. As I pour the bubbly liquid, the three Aurelians sit back down slowly; never taking their slate-grey eyes from my scanty outfit and exposed flesh.
I carefully pour three glasses of the bubbly liquid. As I do so, I turn away from them – working my tongue into a cavity on the inside of my cheek.
A long time ago, a black-market doctor sewed a tiny pouch into the inside of my mouth; just big enough to hide a single capsule.
The capsule I’ve had hidden there for months emerges from its hiding place with the pressure of my tongue, and I let it fall into my hands; hopefully unspotted by the Aurelians.
I break open the capsule in my fingers, crumbling the white powder inside it into the drinks.
This drug is one of my three weapons of last resort. I fear I won’t have to resort to the other two.
The drug I dosed the champagne with was specifically formulated to drop Aurelians to the ground. That much powder would kill a human – numbing their autonomic system to the point of unconsciousness and death. For a four-hundred-pound, monstrous Aurelian, it’s enough put their muscular asses into a deep and dreamless sleep.
My hands are shaking with adrenaline as I stir the drinks with the swirl of my wrist; watching the powder blend with the bubbles.
If I get out of this unscathed – and that’s a big if – I’ve made up my mind. I can’t work in Spur’s joint anymore. If an Aurelian triad came here today – inviting me to this private room, no less – then more will be on their way. Sooner or later, one triad or another will recognize who I am.
I need to leave…
…but first, I have to get rid of these three Aurelians.
I pick up the glasses of bubbly champagne, my mind already plotting my course of action:
First, I escape this room – and these three huge, dominant Aurelians. Then I get to that locker, two blocks away. Afterward, I catch the first flight I can off this fucking hell-hole planet.
It’s far from ideal. It means I will have lost two years of my life for nothing. I spent two years here, putting together my escape plan, and now all that work is going to come unraveled as I flee like a rat from a sinking ship; leaving everything I’ve worked for behind.
The sound of the Aurelian’s low voices snaps me from my plotting.
“Put the glasses down,” the leader growls. Panic hits me. I turn, feeling my heart pounding in my chest.
“N-Not thirsty?” Dammit, why did I have to stammer?
The Aurelian doesn’t smile. Daccia simply orders: “Dance for me.”
His voice is a harsh command – but it carries a thin edge of lust beneath it. That lust is the only thing that reassures me.
If these three are Rogue Aurelians, I’ll survive. I might not like it – but I’ll be able to get out of here no matter what they do with me. To me.
A shiver runs down my body. I’ve slept with two men since escaping the Aurelian Harem – human men. Both were big, standing over six-feet-tall, with muscular bodies…
…but both left me utterly unsatisfied.
That’s the part I’m most ashamed about in all this. No matter how far I run. No matter how much I hide. No matter what escape plans I have in place, or tricks up my sleeve…
…part of me still craves the harsh dominance of Aurelians.
I was taken time and time again while I was in that harem, and I can’t pretend that it didn’t leave me breathless and trembling. I can’t pretend that part of me wasn’t tempted to stay…
I can’t pretend that part of me doesn’t tremble with anticipation right now, at the thought of re-experiencing that passion and power, at the hands of these three towering Aurelian warriors.
But that will only happen if they really are Rogue Aurelians – exiles from the Empire.
If they’re Law Enforcement – as part of me stubbornly suspects – then it won’t be pleasure and passion I receive from them. It’ll be a cold pair of cuffs around my wrists. I’ll be shackled and my freedom will be taken away – for good this time.
I hope beyond hope that these Aurelians really are Rogue – and steel myself for what they might do to me if that’s true.
“Of course, sir,” I murmur in what I hope is a seductive tone – emphasizing the last word: Sir.
That’ll get them turned on almost as much as my body will – I know that for a fact. Aurelians love to be dominant. I found that out during those three painful weeks on an Aurelian planet.
My mind briefly recalls my time spent on there.
I’d been just eighteen when I volunteered for an Aurelian harem on Antonius 5, the spice planet. I made sure I was the perfect little submissive slut for the triad who accepted me. I gave them everything about myself – my body, my soul…
Everything except my heart. That I reserved for my missing sister; and my quest to recover
