“It,” I repeat the word. “And what, exactly, is it?”
I take a sip of the liquid. I’ve barely ever tasted alcohol, except for when I’ve stolen sips of drinks, risking punishment just for the thrill of a single moment in which I could feel like I was free.
I’m not sure how I feel about it now I get the chance. The burn of this scalding liquor goes straight to my head.
Conan shakes his head slowly. There’s a wry smile on his face.
“It: Our fated mate. Every member of our entire species spends their life looking for their Bonded partner. So, so many Aurelians die never having experienced the joy of finding her.” His eyes flash. “But not I. I know that you are ours.”
I gulp down a huge sip of the whisky and cough hard. Conan extends his hand, gently running it over mine. I catch my breath and stare at the towering warrior.
“Okay. But what is the Bond? I’ve heard so many things about it – I’m not sure which, if any, are true.”
Conan nods.
“The Bond is the only hope for our race. Our species has been dying out for thousands of years. We live much longer than humans, but Aurelians are all male. You know that.”
I have a flashback to the sight of the triad’s glorious, naked bodies – and their enormous, raging cocks.
Male… So, so male!
“The Bond,” Conan continues. “Our race was starting to lose all hope of ever finding Bonded females again, until Queen Jasmine was Bonded to our Emperor’s triad. While I might hate her policies, she became and is a beacon of hope for our species. There have been few more Bondings since. They’re rare – infinitesimally rare – but they do exist.”
I want to shake him by the shoulders and get a straight answer from him.
“If that’s all it is, then why the hell is everyone so scared of it?”
I feel like yelling at the statuesque Aurelian. Instead, though, I down the rest of the alcohol – and after the initial burn, I feel a pleasant buzz in my head. I pour myself another stiff glass.
“Easy there,” Conan laughs. “I don’t think you’re used to drinking.”
I fill a second glass and slide it across the desk towards Conan. This is all too crazy. One day, I’m a slave, and the second I’m considering the fact that I might be Bonded to this Aurelian triad.
Instead of living and dying in seventy or eighty years, if I’m lucky, I’d have thousands of years of life if I was truly their fated mate.
But what would that life be like? Would the Bond really take away everything that makes me an individual, as I’ve heard rumored? Would I trade my newly-won freedom for the willing slavery of being a breeding slut for these three towering men?
Conan sips deep of the amber liquid. I need to think of anything other than the Bond right now.
“What even happened to you guys? I thought Rogue Aurelians only leave the Empire because they want to take slaves. You three hate slavery.”
Conan’s slate-grey eyes narrow, and I immediately wonder if I’ve asked a dangerous question.
17
Conan
Her question instantly sucks the joy out of me.
There I was, sitting and enjoying a drink, exulting in the feeling of being next to my fated mate…
…and suddenly, I’m back… there.
I can’t get the sound of those screams out of my head. They were hard men who died in that Scorp nest. Men who’d match up against you in a sparring fight and not stop even when blood was pouring from their broken nose, or their eyes were so bruised and swollen they could no longer see. The men of our company would face down any challenge, and back away from nothing.
And yet, for all that bravery, they died screaming.
I take a huge gasp – as if I’m dying – and Ashley looks taken aback as she hears it.
I’m ashamed. I hate showing weakness. Not only is it humiliating, but showing weakness becomes weakness in the eyes of those who witness such displays.
People like Ashley.
Everyone knows that human females love Aurelians not just for their skill in battle, or their legendary prowess in bed.
No, they love us because we offer security and safety – because we’re the strongest, most fearless warriors in the universe.
And therefore, when Ashley sees my weakness, she may decide that she no longer wants to be with me.
With us.
I steel myself and finish the glass. The shot barely gives me a buzz, even though I rarely drink. Being five-hundred-pounds of sheer muscle has its downsides when it comes to numbing the pain inside.
Ashley notices my expression, to my great shame. She takes my glass silently and refills it. I down the second shot in a single swallow. The burning sensation feels…
It feels like I deserve it.
With the whisky inside of me, I take a deep breath and meet Ashley’s gaze. The telling of the tale hurts almost as badly as living it.
“Evander, Augustus and I… We were in our first week in the Aurelian Army. Every Aurelian owes one hundred years of service to the Empire, you know that.”
Ashley nods. She takes another draw of her drink, steeling herself to listen to my tale. I motion for a refill, then do the same.
“Don’t get used to me pouring drinks for you,” Ashley allows herself to smile as she refills my glass. “Those days are over for me.”
It was an attempt to lighten the mood, but nothing could alleviate the tension. This wound? It’s still too fresh.
“There was an aggressive Scorp infestation at our first point of duty – the worst that anyone had ever seen. This was on a planet near the periphery – independent, but under Aurelian control, so we were bound to protect it.”
I lean back in my chair, casting my memory
