The blood of his enemies may still be splattered all over Evander’s face, but I don’t even flinch as I kiss him. In fact, it only makes the dangerous alien look even more barbaric as his tongue slips into my mouth.
His body is aching for me, I can tell – but Evander reluctantly sets me down. His breath is harsh.
“L-Later, pet,” his eyes burn with lust. “We need to secure the perimeter first.”
Turning away from me – the front of his pants tented out with his obvious erection – Evander turns to the others and barks:
“Conan! Stay with Ashley. Draven – would you be so kind as to come and clean up the strays with me?”
Draven smirks, giving a theatrical little bow. I can see he’s gratified that Evander chose him to accompany him. It both respects his abilities as a warrior, and also demonstrates that Evander holds no grudges for the way Draven took over planning and plotting this assault.
The mustached swordsman kicks the corpse of Peter Paradooli and growls:
“It would be an honor, sir. We’ll get this place cleared of rats, so you three can have some proper time with your lady love.”
I shiver deliciously as those words. My ‘lady love.’
I turn for a second and study Evander, Conan and Augustus – and the shiver continues. They’re so tall, and towering, and sexy…
…and they want me.
But as much as they want me, there are other matters to attend to first.
Evander and Augustus leave with Draven, Orb-Blade and rapier drawn and ready.
Conan is left behind. He turns and smiles at me, his hard gaze softening.
“It’s going to be alright, pet,” he reassures me. “You don’t need to be afraid of anything – not ever again.”
What if I’m afraid of you?
The thought jumps unbidden into my mind.
Conan is the least imposing of the three Aurelians, but he’s still a huge, towering alien warrior – one who I’d just witness murder an army of tough, merciless guards as if it was nothing.
It would be absurd not to be frightened of him to some degree – no matter what kindness he and his two battle-brothers have shown.
I shiver, and try to change the subject. I shake my head slowly, murmuring: “I just need today to be over.”
Conan nods.
“I understand.”
He steps forward, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. Then, like a knight of old, the towering Aurelian kneels down in front of me.
For a second, it’s almost as if he’s going to propose, and my mind reels at that incredible thought…
…but instead, he gently wipes the disgusting green slime from my knee – the residue from where Don Sloor ran his disgusting fingers over my thighs.
“Are there baths?”
I nod. I’d never been allowed to use the private bathrooms, although I’ve brought drinks and towels to them many times. I attended to Peter while he took his long, luxurious soaks; and I remember how gorgeous they were.
“Take me to them,” Conan demands.
I lead the towering Aurelian through the now-silent manor, to the luxurious bathhouse attached to the western wing.
The beautiful private bathrooms are adorned in white marble and gold leaf. There’s a hot tub there, plus a full-length pool, and a steam room. Peter would often have a random slave of his choosing massage him on the tables in the sauna – and, if they failed to do a professional-enough job, he’d them whipped in front of us; like some kind of sadistic game.
It’s so strange to think that his tyranny is over now – that Peter will never torment another soul again. My mind still reels as I walk into the private bathrooms no longer as a slave, but as a conqueror.
“It’s all ours,” it’s as if Conan read my mind. He corrects himself: “It’s yours.”
Mine.
Really?
But I know he’s right. I never thought I’d ever walk into this room without feeling the familiar thread of terror down my spine – the anxiousness that I might displease my owner, Peter, and then be humiliated in front of the rest of the slaves for whatever perceived transgression I’d committed.
I shed that anxiety in the same way I’d shed my clothes – although, as it happens, I decide to keep my dress on as I walk towards the cool waters of the pool.
As in in a trance, I step into the pool, deeper and deeper with each stride. Ripples spread out around me, moving over the still water as I enter it.
The AI then chills the water to an even cooler degree, knowing what I want before I even ask.
Finally, I’m waist-high in the cool water – and I dive into it, shearing through the chill waves. As I do so, it’s like all of the day’s terrors wash from me.
My head finally emerges from the water and, as I emerge, I hear another splash from behind me. It’s Conan, diving into the pool with the grace of a plunging gannet.
Unlike me, he’s completely nude – all except for the hilt of his Orb-Blade, which he carries in his hand, unwilling to lose his weapon even after he and his battle-brothers have successfully conquered the manor.
I admire the Aurelian as he swims. His perfectly-muscled body cuts effortlessly through the water, like a graceful white shark, and when he eventually swims over to me and finally stands, Conan towers above me, the water sluicing from his chiseled physique.
The looming Aurelian smiles as he looks down at.
“You need have no fear anymore,” Conan murmurs. “Let yourself breathe for a moment.”
I nod, gazing up at his reassuring massiveness. As I stand there, he reaches down with a cool, wet hand and presses it against my cheek.
“There’s nothing hanging over your head – not anymore. Relax for a moment…” He pauses. “…if you can.”
I blink at him.
Nothing hanging over my head?
Is he for real?
I don’t know what to think. These three Aurelians are brutal, violent and dangerous. They want to conquer this world – to take what
