I haven’t even had a chance to be myself, and the stories I’ve heard about the Bond are dark.
They tell of mind control – of a great force that changes a woman from an individual to a slave the moment the connection is made. It takes a woman’s independence, and replaces it with the primal need to be bred by that Bonded, alien triad.
If the stories are to be believed, the Bond is a strange, powerful, irresistible force that turns independent women into sex slaves; designed to sire countless sons for the Aurelian race.
“It’s a one in a billion chance.” I hear my own voice in the shower. I’m trying to convince myself. “It’s impossible – and for the moment, there’s one thing I need to focus on: Saving Danielle. Tera and Allie, too – if I can. They don’t deserve to be sold to Bullfrogs either.”
I swallow hard and steel myself. The Aurelians have a plan that is elegant in its simplicity. They intend to gamble with my life, in exchange for that of Danielle.
It’s a bold strategy. They might be more skilled than the Bullfrogs at betting – but in a game of chance, it’s still a risk.
A risk that might devolve into bloodshed if the Aurelians don’t get their way.
If that happens, then all bets are off. Peter Paradooli was happy to take the Aurelian’s Reaver off their hands – but he’s working with the Bullfrogs – and his entire army would descend on us if we betrayed him.
The Aurelians need all the information possible. I step out of the shower, the water dripping from my bare skin as I grab a luxurious cotton bathrobe. I wrap it around myself, shivering as the soft fabric caresses me.
It’s so nice to be out of the pleasure dress and in control of my thoughts again.
I rummage in the cupboards, but as expected there’s no makeup to be found. I look at myself in the mirror. Gone is the sculpted beauty that the raven-haired beautician created out of me. Now, there’s only me.
The real me.
Will the Aurelians still like me?
I step out of the bathroom and back into the main room of the penthouse. The three Aurelians are no longer in their Romanesque togas. Now, they each wear identical, tailored suits.
The obsidian of the expensive fabric contrasts beautifully against the pure ivory of their skin tone. They look fantastic.
Evander cocks his head. “We gave our measurements to the concierge and he had these made up for us. It was a rush job, and I don’t know anything about human fashion. Does this suit the casino?”
I nod, smiling broadly. “Yes… very much so!”
The three of them look breathtaking. I feel so unworthy compared to these Aurelian warriors. They could be holo-vid stars, models, or anything else they wanted.
I look down at myself, ashamed. I wish I was hiding behind the mask of make-up, with foundation to mask my flaws, lipstick to enhance the pale color of my lips, and the expert contouring of a beautician like the one who made me feel – for a moment – like I was worthy.
Conan furrows his perfect eyebrows. He’s even got eyelashes to die for. How unfair is life?
“Do they allow a bathrobe in a human casino?”
I shake my head. That sweetly innocent question would have made me laugh if the stakes weren’t so high. “No! And as much as I hated it, I guess I wish you guys hadn’t destroyed that pleasure dress now.”
Augustus grabs a glass, filling it with ice before adding in a generous shot of whiskey from the well-appointed penthouse bar.
“AI. Measure her.”
Before I can react, lasers suddenly scan me – instantly making a detailed profile of my measurements. I let out a squeal of indignation when it shows my weight, right down to the gram…
…but if the Aurelians see that number, they clearly don’t care.
Evander considers the data as it appears. “Call the concierge. Audio only.”
It takes only a second for the AI to respond, and the front desk to answer: “How may I help you?”
“I’m sending you measurements. I don’t care how you do it, but you need to get a dress up here in thirty minutes or less – in the exact size we sent you.”
There’s a stunned pause on the other end of the line – so Evander continues talking:
“Thin, revealing, and befitting a pleasure slave. Some makeup, too. There are two thousand credits in it for you if you can make this happen.”
My mouth drops. Two thousand credits is more than the concierge makes in a month.
“Immediately,” comes the shocked response, and I know that the concierge is going to move the Earth to make it happen.
The AI automatically sends over the coordinates while I stare at the three men. “That was way too much money!”
I want to be angry at the specific requirements for the dress. Revealing? Befitting a pleasure slave? That’s not exactly what I’d choose…
…but logically, I guess, it makes sense. The Aurelians need to keep me playing the part of a slave.
It is just a part, right?
Evander smiles for the first time since I’ve seen him. It’s a tiny flicker of amusement that comes to his face. He steps forward, and gently runs his hand against my cheek. There’s none of the brutality in his touch now, like I’d felt when he’d used my mouth for his pleasure. Nevertheless, I still feel his possessiveness.
“We are going to own this city, Ashley.”
Own it?
They aren’t Aurelian undercover agents then, are they. They’re power hungry – just like Peter Paradooli.
I pull back. “You can’t fight the Bullfrogs. If you do, Peter will come for you.”
Augustus snorts. “Let him come. We’re not cowards.”
He says the word coward with bitter distaste, and I catch a note of something sinister in his voice – as if something is very, very wrong; and it’s connected to that word
