There is only one way for our Empire to grow – for us to produce more heirs.
And there’s only one way we can do that naturally. The Bond.
The link between an Aurelian triad and a human female. Only when we find a Bonded human female – our fated mate – can we reproduce the way that the humans do; through breeding and seeding our fertile mate and impregnating her with our sons.
Aurelians conceived naturally are born strong. The Bond helps human females live for centuries, to produce countless heirs. One triad, with their fated mate, could rebuild a whole generation of new warriors.
And just as our encounter with the Orb-worshipping species suggested; something is changing in the universe. There has never been a better time for my triad to fulfil our purpose, and find our fated mate. Now we know she’s out there.
Somewhere.
Before now, our species had thought the Bond had left us forever. For over a thousand years, there were no fated mates; no Bonded females to produce new, strong Aurelian heirs.
But in the last hundreds of years, the Bond has become active again. More and more Bonded females have been discovered by their triads. There is no doubt in my mind that now is the time for us to seek our fated mate. The universe is entering a new phase of existence. Everything is cyclical – and the old ways will become anew.
I will own my mate.
2
Ashley
A tremor runs through me as Peter Paradooli strides into the main room, snarling.
At his side are his two advisors, chattering away and feeding him information. He’s clearly fuming, and he slaps aside the drink offered to him by one of the slaves.
I stand stock-still, hoping that if I don’t move, Paradooli won’t notice me. My feet are cemented to the floor as I gently dust between the cracks of an antique brass statue, trying desperately not to be seen.
I can hear the conversation as they approach, though – and I wish I couldn’t. Peter stops suddenly, and his two advisors cower in fear as he wheels around to snarl at them.
“You’re telling me that the pilot we hired went through Aurelian space to save time? We lost thirty women, Gods be damned!”
Thirty women. Not lost – but freed by the Aurelian Empire.
Those seven-feet-tall aliens are the only reason slavery doesn’t exist in the civilized part of the universe; and is punished severely when those who break that fundamental rule are caught.
Unfortunately, I was unlucky enough to be born into the uncivilized outskirts of the universe – where ‘might makes right’ and slavery is just part and parcel of our experience. That’s why I’m not a person – I’m just property.
At least I was lucky to have been considered pretty enough to be taken into a mobster’s personal service, rather than sold for hard labor, or to a frontier brothel… or worse.
I don’t even want to think about that.
“Boss, we can recoup this.”
Peter steps forward, grabbing his advisor by the throat. The gangster has a quick temper and nobody ever feels safe around him – with good reason.
“I have four important Bullfrogs coming in, you cretin. Bullfrogs who were promised the first pick from the most beautiful slaves for their personal harems.” He looks around in frustration. “Now what do I offer them?”
My breath catches in my throat. There could be no worse fate than being sold to a Bullfrog. The huge, bulky creatures are the bigger version of the Toads – the most disgusting of the dominant species in the universe.
Whenever Peter has Toads enter the house, I do everything I can to hide out of sight – and when their gaze does come over me, I feel slimy afterward.
If I feel dirty and disgusting just from the gaze of a Toad… Imagine what it must be like to be part of their harem?
Shudder.
“Please, boss,” gasps the advisor, and Peter releases his throat with a disgusted expression. The second advisor catches me glancing over, and I turn instantly away – my heart pounding as I focus all my attention to dusting the bronze figurine in front of me.
Too late.
I can feel the advisor’s eyes on me.
The thin slip of a dress I’m wearing, pure white, hugs my curves. It’s meant to show off my ample body to Peter and any of his guests who want to look. In truth, he could have robots cleaning his manor. Peter Paradooli just prefers to show his affluence, by demonstrating that he can afford slaves.
“Sir, if I might offer a suggestion?”
My heart starts. I’m scared I know what his advisor is about to suggest.
“Offer a suggestion? You fucking better. That’s what I pay you for.”
“Ahem,” the advisor clears his throat. “This slave auction was a show of opulence. We went far and wide to acquire… exquisite beauties. Thirty in total. But of these thirty, the Bullfrogs would only have bought one or two each – just enough to broker a connection between their outfit and our organization. It was meant to show that we have influence and power, not to generate any real profit.”
Peter looks as though he doesn’t know whether to kill his advisor, or continue to let him talk.
“I know this,” he snarled. “I devised the Gods-damn plan myself. Get to the point.”
The advisor pauses. I can feel him stare at me. I want to shrink into nothingness.
“There are some… beauties in your own household, sir. Why not choose thirty of them? Of those thirty, perhaps four will be sold – and let’s be honest, sir; you’ll never notice the difference, and I’ll find replacements for them quickly.”
Dead silence fills the room. There are ten of us slaves working in the main room, including my best friend Danielle, and we’re all thinking the same thing…
Please… Please, don’t pick me.
The advisor was gutsy to make the suggestion. He can’t know if Peter will be furious at the idea of
