What would it be like if they didn’t hold back at all?
I shudder, and I’m not sure if it’s from fear or arousal – or both.
But I can only delay the inevitable for so long.
Taking a deep breath, I unzip the flap of the tent and step out into the basement…
…and promptly I stop in my tracks.
Brennan, Otho, and Lazar are all standing there, watching me.
I’m a tiny, human girl – facing three looming, intimidating alien warriors.
All three of them. Lazar is back from wherever he’d spent the night before – wearing that light armor the three of them visited my father in.
I realize he’s just come off watch – the last of the three to do so during the night. That’s why he’s still in his armor, with that obscenely huge rifle still slung across his back.
Next to him, Otho is wearing a black t-shirt – tight enough to shows off every chiseled angle of his powerful physique.
Brennan remains still shirtless, and I feel a lump in my throat as I stand there and drink in the sight of his alabaster skin, and those perfectly-defined muscles. The way his abs pop in the morning sunlight – the shadows emphasizing each peak and valley of taut muscle – simply isn’t fair.
I gulp.
All three of them are gathered here now – and without any of them saying a word, I know what it means.
As if reading my mind, three sets of eyes stare at me with equal and utter certainty of purpose.
These three powerful warriors know exactly what they’re planning to do to me.
Suddenly, I feel very small – smaller, even, than I did before in the shadow of these three towering aliens.
This shrinking feeling? It’s the same one I’d experienced when I’d first read On Aurelians and seen pictures of their species – only this feeling is magnified unbearably.
The sheer size of them is mind-boggling – something you simply can’t appreciate from drawings alone. They’re like giants – Gods.
Likewise, there’s something celestial about the grey emptiness of their slate-colored eyes – fixating on me with an intensity that’s utterly nerve-wracking.
Brennan steps forward, towering over me like the century-old trees in my father’s gardens.
“You tried to escape last night,” the leader of the Aurelians murmurs. “I warned you that escape attempts would be punished.”
Brennan’s voice is flat. It’s almost too monotonous. Even though Aurelians pride themselves on hiding their emotions – part of the reason they have a reputation for arrogance – I’ve been taught from a young age how to read people. Or, more specifically, how to see through people.
Even though they stand like statues – even though their eyes are as blank and lifeless as carved marble – the Aurelians are actually no exception to this talent of mine. In the barely a day I’ve known them, I’ve learned to notice all the subtlest signals of emotion from these towering warriors.
Right now – as they stand before me, seeming as large as looming mountains – I feel like I can read them better than I can read myself.
Too monotonous.
My brain processes this observation. It means Brennan’s trying to hold something back. He’s trying to sound dispassionate – the way a law court judge might try to, as he passes a sentence of death and tries to convey that no emotion is clouding his decision.
But beneath Brennan’s thin veneer of control is a raw, burning, animal heat. I can feel it – bubbling like lava beneath the surface whenever he looks at me.
That animal heat speaks to something deep inside of me, too. There’s a primal, instinctual part of me that craves these three Aurelians the same way they clearly desire me.
This is a very dangerous situation to be in. These Aurelians seem barely able to control themselves… but the same can be said for me. Which of us will snap first? Could it be me?
I shiver.
Would I beg for them to do what I’m simultaneously terrified of?
Brennan narrows his eyes, and that subtle movement snaps me back to reality – reminding me that it’s not just three statues I’m staring at.
A wicked impulse surges through me.
“You warned me? Is that what you tell yourself?”
I’m shocked at how calm my voice sounds as I challenge Brennan.
To a casual bystander, you’d have thought Brennan might not have even heard my words – he stands implacable and silent.
But I saw more than the casual bystander. I saw the slight tightening of his eyes. The slight stiffening of his posture. I saw his surprise in being challenged…
But challenge him I must. If Brennan doesn’t admit what he’s doing – if I don’t make him think about the consequences of what he’s about to do – he could slip. Punishment could turn to much, much more…
A voice inside my head demands: Is that a threat? Or a promise?
Gulping dryly, I turn my gaze to Otho – and my anxiety steams to the surface.
Otho doesn’t have any of Brennan’s veneer of civility. He’s standing there like a ravenous animal, straining at a leash.
As he stares hungrily at me, Otho licks his lips – as if he’s devouring me with his eyes.
I shiver.
Otho might be the most brutal and beast-like of the three, but he’s undeniably handsome in his own way. That scarred face is honest and strong. He might be a beast – dangerous, and unpredictable – but if there’s one thing I can trust in him, it’s that he will always act in accordance with his nature.
Only, it might be a nature that has more in common with beast than man.
My brain whirs like an overactive computer. I’ve read all about the mating frenzies of Aurelians – read again and again, until the ink at the corner of that page of On Aurelians faded to almost nothing.
Long before
