As I flop down, Lazar follows behind me – sitting down on a broken stump of stone that used to be a support beam. Hopefully not an important support beam – I hope this place isn’t going to come crashing down around me at any moment.
Although, if it did, that would be exactly the type of thing I should have expected. The first day I’ve ever escaped from the gilded prison of my father’s estate, it would be fitting to be crushed beneath a new stone behemoth.
For a moment, we all sit in silence – until I look up and murmur:
“Not all humans are bad, Lazar. Not all of us are… corrupt.”
Lazar takes a deep breath in. His eyes roll back minutely – only for a second, but I can tell he just tasted my scent in the air.
As if sensing that I’d noticed that, the towering alien shakes himself off, regaining his focus.
I stare up at him – longing to tell him to stop smelling me. However, I don’t want to embarrass him by bringing attention to what he just did. It’s involuntarily, I know – like how I’ll breath in the scent of the freshly-cooked pies that are delivered to our kitchens.
Eventually, Lazar breathes: “You’re right, Natali.”
His slate-grey eyes turn toward me.
“Not all humans are corrupt – just as not all Aurelians share the views of the late General Asmod.” Then, the towering warrior shakes his head. “Yet lately, more and more Aurelian Warriors are claiming they want to see the Old Ways brought back.”
He leans towards me, and confesses:
“The Empire is fracturing, Natali. To humans like you, we keep a strong front – but, in reality, I think there’s a great change coming. The priests? They tell us the end times are coming.”
I stare up at Lazar as he continues.
“That is why Brennan, Otho, and I have been working so hard to secure Orb-Material for the Aurelian Empire – for over two-hundred years now, ever since we finished our hundred years of service. Now, we perform a different service – and it’s a great burden on us. We might sit here, three humble warriors, but we are burdened with the survival of our very species.”
The survival of his species. That is what these Aurelians truly care about.
Suddenly, I’m struck at how petty my problems must appear. They revolve around being stuck behind stone walls – a princess in a tower, complaining bitterly while sitting well-fed, and well-protected.
In contrast, Lazar and his battle-brothers face problems that could shape the future of the universe – securing the survival of the Aurelian Empire and Lazar’s very species.
The weight of his words are oppressive.
On the other side of the basement, Otho swings his legs – jumping down from the workbench.
“Don’t bore her with politics, Lazar,” he scoffs. “I’m already tired of this underground lair – don’t make it worse by discussing such depressing things.”
“Facts,” Lazar murmurs quietly in response. “Depressing facts.”
“Maybe,” Otho shrugs, “but facts can wait until later. We sit here embracing the darkness, when I wish to feel the sun on my skin instead.”
The scar-faced warrior turns towards the stairs.
“Come. You never know when you are going to feel that last kiss of heat. Let’s walk.”
I gasp: “Out… there?”
I still remember the bodies of the men who’d tried to ambush us – cut down with effortless brutality by Otho and Lazar. I wish I could channel the same strength and bravery I’d been filled with the previous night, when I’d rushed out of this underground bunker to make my escape.
Now that I know the danger that awaits me outside, I’m hesitant to try again – and it’s not the sharp, burning heat in my backside that dissuades me.
“We will keep you safe,” Otho promises, as if reading my mind. There’s no hint of fear in his voice. Last night’s ambush by those human scavengers was nothing to him – it didn’t even register as danger.
And why should it? This is a man who’s rushed into Scorp nests and come out blood-soaked, but breathing. How can malnourished, desperate human scum pose a threat to his kind? They are as threatening as a mosquito to beings like him.
For another moment, there’s silence – and then the hulking alien warrior strides across the basement to one of the big duffel bags I’d dragged beneath the window. He unzips it, and pulls out a small, jet-black pistol from inside. He tosses it to me as casually as if it was a protein bar.
I miss the catch, though – and the gun clatters to the ground.
With a squeak, I jump up from my seat – expecting it to fire.
Otho chuckles as he watches me, warming the room with that unexpected, mirth-filled laugh. It surprises me every time.
Are these my captors? I wonder. Or my friends? The lines are getting so blurred…
As I often do, I mask my fear with anger.
“You could have killed me!” I snap, pointing at the gun. “What if that thing went off!”
Otho just smiles. It’s infuriating.
Infuriating, but also strangely amusing. I was not expecting this sort of treatment when I was kidnapped by three brutal, Aurelian warriors.
I’d read so much about their speeches – obsessively devouring the pages about that mating rage. When I was taken by them, I’d been worried something awful could have happened – or something wonderful.
I shiver.
I still remember the way Brennan lunged towards me moments earlier – the way his emotions and need overwhelmed his rational mind.
In comparison, Otho and Lazar might be playing nice – but I know they share that same Aurelian programming beneath the surface, and at any second, they could snap in their need for me as well.
It’s like being a juicy porkchop, imprisoned in a kennel of hungry wolves.
I bent and pick the gun up slowly. It’s like it was made for
