I’ve allowed my desire to cloud me to the violent nature of these warriors; and now that implication terrifies me.
The three auras of the Aurelians are inside my mind – and now I can never get them out.
They’re three huge, powerful beasts – full of such anger and violence – and yet, somehow, they’ve clawed their way into my consciousness. I’ve welcomed the beast into the palace of my mind.
The world crashes down around me. The constant anxiety I’ve lived with since I was a child crushes me like a tidal wave.
The Bond has made all of my senses stronger – and, suddenly, the cacophony of stimulus pushes me down. The water becomes deafening in my ears, and yet even amidst that maelstrom I can hear a small creature scuttling up and down the stairs; perhaps a womp trying to find a spot to hide from the heat, or a rat scuttling from one shadow to the other.
I can hear everything – even the little flies buzzing near the windows where my blood was spilled the day before. Those winged insects are feasting on the dried remains of what was inside my veins just hours earlier.
Even the water and soap deluging down on me can do nothing to hide the individual scent of each Aurelian; soaked into my skin like a scarlet letter.
The world is screaming at my senses. It’s all too much stimulus. I crash down against the floor of the shower cubicle, feeling the weight of my terrible mistake crushing me.
These three men are strangers.
The more I feel of them – the more I learn – the stranger they become.
And yet I’ve linked myself to them – for the rest of my life. My now massively extended life.
I shiver at the implications – both wonderful and terrible.
For my entire childhood, my mind had been my only escape. Whenever I’d felt anxious or nervous, I’d retreat to my room and dive into my own imagination, thanks to the books I collected and cherished.
Now, my mind is no longer a safe refuge. They are inside it.
I swallow hard. My mouth suddenly feels so dry, despite the deluge of water all around me. I force myself to stand up, trying to push back the overwhelming fear, and the water stops the moment I do so. Without uttering a word, it turns to that drying blast of air and I steel myself to the chill; then brushing my teeth and getting ready to face the three men as clean and unsullied as I’ll ever be again.
I unzip the tent and step out. My mouth is as dry as the sun – but I at least feel as if I’ve regained some composure.
Lazar is awake now. The sun kisses his perfect body, pouring through that window I’d once tried to escape from.
I remember how close I felt to Lazar just moments earlier, as we’d slept together in the same bed. I remember how our bodies had fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and how he’d calmed my anxiety; the anxiety that is now building and building to near-eruption point.
I look around for water – but before I can take another step, Otho tosses me a canteen.
Before I’d have thought ‘it’s as if he can read my mind.’ Now, I know he can do exactly that.
I catch the canteen easily – whereas a day ago, I’d have dropped it for sure; hearing it clatter to the ground.
The world closes in around me. My barely controlled anxiety peaks once again. Otho steps towards me, concern plain on his face and his aura – but I rush away from him, running to the duffel bags near the window instead.
I wrench them open to pull out more dresses I can cannibalize into decency.
Suddenly, I can’t be naked in front of these three Aurelians; despite what we’ve just done together.
I feel so exposed – although I fear it’s not my body that has been left naked and vulnerable. It’s my soul.
I pull dress after dress out from those bags, still shocked at how clueless these Aurelians are about women. If they think women dress in these skimpy, see-through dresses by choice, what other foolish, misogynistic notions do they have in their mixed up, oh-so-alien minds?
They grew up on a world where women were kept in harems. Where the sole purpose of the human female was to serve powerful Aurelian men, and quench their endless desires. They grew up in a society in which women were disposable to them, unless they were their near-legendary ‘Fated Mates.’
These three Aurelians might look at me with adoration; but only because of the lottery of being their Bonded partner. If I was any other girl – just as richly alive, and vibrant with just as many ideas – I’d be disposable to them.
It’s not me they want. I’m their Fated Mate; and the living, breathing girl attached to that designation is irrelevant to them.
I pull a dress over my head a little too quickly, and I hear the thin material rip. It feels like a metaphor for my life; how everything I try to rush into comes apart at the seams.
Despondent, I slump down on the duffel bags – the full weight of my destiny finally on me.
As I sit there, I can feel their eyes on me – all three of them.
Their gaze is just a little too hard. A little too intense. I breathe in, and unscrew the canteen, wetting my dry mouth and pretending to ignore their stares.
All three of them are watching me like I’m a Goddess, or something.
I felt their pure adoration and sensed their need to claim me in that rough mating – but now, the three of them are looking at me with something else in their now colorful eyes.
Veneration – something that I’m not ready for.
To them? I’m now a Goddess. But this isn’t just a fantasy – this is the reality of my life now.
In among the hundreds of
