Sold to the Alien Mobsters: A Curvy Girl Alien Reverse Harem Romance (Rogue Aurelians Book 2) Read online

  Sold to the Alien Mobsters

  A curvy girl alien reverse harem romance

  Corin Cain

  Contents

  Foreword

  1. Daran

  2. Petra

  3. Riff

  4. Petra

  5. Kreos

  6. Petra

  7. Daran

  8. Petra

  9. Daran

  10. Petra

  11. Riff

  12. Petra

  13. Daran

  14. Petra

  15. Daran

  16. Petra

  17. Kreos

  18. Petra

  19. Kreos

  20. Riff

  21. Petra

  22. Daran

  23. Kreos

  24. Riff

  25. Petra

  26. Petra

  Foreword

  Welcome to the Aurelian Empire, where the dominant, powerful alien warriors come in threes!

  This steamy reverse harem alien romance is for adult audiences, and is heavy on the action and adventure! It is quite dark and intense at parts.

  - CC

  1

  Daran

  “Send flowers to his mother and the blood money payout. Triple security for the funeral.”

  My capo nods at my orders and leaves the room. I hope he was paying attention to the instruction about security. Those fucking Toads might try to hit the funeral. Nothing is sacred to those slimy bastards.

  A funeral.

  Fuck.

  The kid was just twenty-two years old. Security at one of our bars – taken down in a drive-by shooting. I know humans don’t live very long as it is – not compared to the lifespan of an Aurelian – but twenty-two still made him a goddamn baby.

  But I can’t let myself feel guilty. The kid made his choice when he came to work for us. He knew the risks.

  Guilt I can let go of – but I can barely control my anger. Part of me wants to say ‘fuck caution’ and rip the heads off Don Slip’nak’s men myself. The other half of me thinks that would be too quick and clean a death for the son of a bitch.

  The door opens and one of our women enters. She’s wearing a tiny skirt and a tight top, revealing and accentuating every curve of her nubile body.

  I accept the fresh squeezed loe-juice from her with a nod. As she hands it to me, I noticed the girl adjusts herself to emphasize her huge breasts and wide waist. She’s wasting her time, though. On the surface, she looks fertile – but this girl was just another disappointment.

  I can sense her arousal, though. The girl’s nipples are hard buds against the thin material of her t-shirt. I wonder if she chose the nearly sheer material because she wants to seduce me – hoping I’d lift her out of her life as a leered-at serving slave and make her… special.

  But there’s nothing special about this girl.

  When I barely glance in her direction, she purses her lips in disappointment. Cassandra, or Juliana – or whatever her name is – forces a smile onto her lips and walks away, emphasizing the sway of her ample bottom as she walks.

  It’s ironic. There was a time that the girl’s bottom drove me wild with lust. When I first bought her at a slave auction, I did so hoping desperately that she would be the one.

  The one every Aurelian spends their life looking for – their fated mate.

  But after a single sweaty coupling, I knew that she was not – and now she’s just like any of the seventy other women in our harem, keeping our manor clean and our needs satisfied.

  Just not those needs.

  My arm shudders and the ice-cubes jangle in my drink. I force my grip on the glass to relax. I’ve shattered enough glasses in my life.

  The rage is burning up in me. It’s so strong that I can barely hold it down. The blue-black of my Orb-Rings glitter in the light of my office. Each ring has taken a life… and each is hungry for another.

  I’m the only one of my triad to have an Orb-Weapon. They’re usually only granted to an Aurelian for their hundred years of service in the Aurelian army.

  My family doesn’t join the fucking army, though.

  Across the table from me, Kreos slams his immense fist down against the hard wood. His wordless grimace tells it all. My battle-brother’s long, brown beard reaches to the top of his abdominal muscles, and – unlike my own – his pure, white skin is covered by a gallery of black tattoos.

  Beside him, Riff downs another glass of whisky and pours a fresh one from the crystal decanter. It’s early, but I feel the same urge to imbibe. Instead, I sip the loe-juice, letting the sweet flavors dance across my tongue.

  Riff’s cocky smile is the only one in the room. His aura is light and flowing in my mind, as if this latest round of attacks means nothing.

  “I’m going to take a more… hands-on role,” Riff finally says, and seemingly from nowhere the gold coin that he always carries with him appears in his hand. He flicks it over his knuckles with practiced dexterity.

  A more ‘hands-on’ role... It’s risky, but if we don’t find a way to cut down security costs, we’ll be in the red. “Where?”

  Kreos clenches his fist. “The casino. It accounts for thirty-two percent of our revenue. The Toad fuckers know it. It’s going to be hit next.”

  Kreos is communicating telepathically, through the Bond I share with my two battle-brothers. He’s always preferred to sub-vocalize his thoughts. In fact, I’ve barely heard his low, raspy voice in the hundred and ten years that we’ve all known each other. A huge scar runs down his neck, from an injury that cut his vocal cords when he crashed his hover-bike in a street race at a mere hundred-and forty years of age.

  That being said – he didn’t talk much before the injury, either.

  I lick my lips and look over at the whisky. It’s tempting. Gods, it’s tempting. Every moment could be my last…

  Did my father know it was his last day when those bastards planted a bomb in his ship?

  If the laws of the Aurelian Empire covered Taton, I wouldn’t be alive. My father, Don Misrani, had barely half of his body left when his bodyguards pulled him into the cryo-chamber for cloning. By the laws of the AE, only intact DNA can be cloned. Otherwise, it might produce an imperfect copy… with an imperfect mind.

  It might produce something like me.

  There’s that anger inside of me – a pure, white line that’s always searing beneath my consciousness.

  I know that I’m a monster. I was created this way. My father made only two mistakes in his life – trusting Don Slip’nak – a Toad – and not finding his mate. If he’d found her, he’d have had strong, healthy sons, with strong, healthy minds…

  …unlike me.

  The glass shatters in my hand. Sharp pain centers me.

  “It’s time to go on the offensive,” I snarl, letting the fragments fall from my hand, dripping blood. “We’ve hid in fear for too long. My father owned half of this fucking planet. It’s a disgrace to his name that we’ve not claimed more.”

  Kreos smiles for the first time in the entire decade since we came to Taton. His muscles tense up. His pure, white dress shirt made of imported Italian cotton – transported here at a huge cost – and it’s undone far enough for me to see the black, skull tattoo on his immense chest.

  Kreos got that massive tattoo after he’d killed his first man. The night the three of us became battle-brothers, he earned seven more black tattoos – which all now adorn his body like grim reminders of the violence that lives within us all.


  I bare my teeth as I remember that night. I’d thought I could put my past behind me. I’d thought I could build something of my own, on Perita 3, two planets away…

  But the Toads had thought otherwise. They’d sent a hit squad to kill me…

  But the squad had failed, and they’d only made me stronger as a result.

  Blood drips from my wounded hand. My heart pounds harder in my ears. I know I need to let out this rage somehow.

  Riff’s eyes widen, as he senses my disquiet through the Bond.

  “It’s time,” he admits, “but first – let’s enjoy our lives a little longer. A strike will take weeks to execute properly. Perhaps this will be our last chance to…”

  I nod. Riff doesn’t need to finish his sentence for me to know what he’s about to say.

  The seventy or so women in my harem hold no interest for me. I’ll take them hard and fast when the urges grow too strong… But without the power of the Bond, between myself and my fated mate, these women are merely hot, eager little holes to release my frustrations into – softer and wetter than my hand, at least.

  I’m not heartless. I know that my harem aches for me, despite how little attention we give them. The women of our harem could leave anytime. Many have, but for every one that decides to leave – given a generous severance package for their services – two more prefer to stay and continue to serve our needs.

  All of the women in our harem were bought at slave auction. It’s the only way to keep them safe. If we let the women of planet Taton voluntarily join our harem – and many have begged to – the Toads would come after their families.

  No, sourcing the women of our harem from slave auctions is the only way they can stay alive.

  It’s a trait of human females that they’re attracted to Aurelians – deeply and inexorably. They seem to be drawn to us like moths are to flames; and in this dark and cruel universe, my triad has kept all seventy of these women safe.

  No Toad has ever managed to breach the security of our manor, here on the outskirts of the city.

  Ah, the Toads.

  For other Aurelians – like those who spend their hundred years of service for the Empire – it’s the vile Scorp who are their nemesis.

  But for us, here on the outskirts of the universe, we find ourselves up against the devious, scheming machinations of the universes’ other dominant species; the Toads.

  Here on Taton, the Toads run crime syndicates just as we do; and none is as powerful or dangerous as that of our arch-rival for dominance of this world.

  But if we go on the offensive, the skirmishes and battles between our crime family and that of Don Slip’nak will become an all-out war.

  Not all of us would survive that. As fearsome as we are, the Toads of Don Slip’nak are too numerous… Too powerful. It’s only their individual fears that have allowed us to collectively restrain them.

  Besides, we have too much to live for, my battle-brothers and I.

  My triad will have one last chance to find our fated mate. My cock surges as I imagine the coupling between me and the next dozen or so women we purchase from slave auction.

  That moment of aching need – as I sink my cock into a human female for the first time, desperate for her to be our fated mate – is the only light in my life.

  It’s the only light – and yet also my cruelest punishment. Whenever I fuck a newly-purchased slave for the first time, and discover that she is not the one woman destined to bear my triad’s heirs, I feel a grim disappointment; an emptiness even as I release myself into another wet, willing woman.

  Although the women in our harem were all bought at auction, I know most would have come voluntarily, knowing that we would take care of them. Out here on the frontier, life as part of our harem is better than the alternative – sold into prostitution, or even to a Toad; to be part of one of those disgusting alien’s harems.

  But while the women see the benefit of joining our harem, we see only desperation in adding them. The slave auction might be our last chance to ever find our fated mate – the one woman that every Aurelian spends his life desperately seeking.

  It’s inconceivably rare for an Aurelian to ever find his Bonded female, and most of our species live and die never knowing the pleasure of seeding the fertile fields of a fated mate. The Aurelians who die close enough to a cryo-chamber are cloned – one Aurelian dying, and their perfect, or in my case imperfect, replica being born to replace them.

  But the problem? Most of our species dies in combat. Only lately, over the last hundred and fifty years, have Bonded females been discovered again. For nearly a thousand years, our species was dying as we relied upon cloning to bolster our numbers.

  But now, four Bonded triads exist – four examples of a triad of Aurelians having found their fated mate and being able to sire children naturally.

  The most recent is a triad of Rogue Aurelians – still chased by Law Enforcement, yet given certain… leeway because of the importance they hold in maintaining our species.

  But, think of it… A thousand years with no Bonded females, and then four have come into existence in the last hundred and fifty years. There’s a shift in the universe – it’s the only explanation.

  The very Queen of the Aurelian Empire is one such Bonded female – although I won’t even think that cursed woman’s name. Her rule has been one of the greatest disasters to ever befall the Aurelian Empire – with human planets declaring independence and casting aside the protection of the Empire, bolstered by the illusion of strength she represents.

  “We go back to Perita 3 for one last auction,” I growl, tightening my bleeding hand into a fist. “We can afford ten new slaves without straining our funds. That will give us one last chance… First a coupling, then a war...”

  Every human woman on Taton knows that the comforts of being part of our harem come with equal danger. At any moment, the Toad Cartel of Don Slip’nak could launch an all-out assault on us; slaughtering myself and my blood-brothers and claiming all those women for their own.

  That’s why we have to be cautious… Diplomatic… We use our influence to do the most good we can. For example, instead of angering the Toads by welcoming all the women who urge to join us voluntarily, we use our coffers to purchase slaves instead; maintaining the fragile order of business with the Toads, and saving those women from a miserable fate.

  After finding out if – hope beyond hope – any of our purchased slaves are our fated mate, we’ll let the women decide for themselves whether they’ll remain with us or not.

  The three of us nod. The decision is made.

  I feel my heart beat faster. The rage deep in my soul is calmed for a moment as lust overtakes it. I’ll soon have a sweet, willing, fertile little wench in my bed, and – if the Gods are kind – she might be my fated mate…

  But… Could I still go to the war if she was? Could I still go to war if I had the chance to sire a son?

  I look at the picture of the young man who died fighting for my family.

  “First, we have a funeral to attend.”

  2

  Petra

  The collar cuts into my neck, but I know better than to complain. I stumble forward as the bulky, slimy Toad pulls hard on the leash.

  There are five of us attached to it – and we all stagger forward as we follow him. Our owner is on a hover-chair, coasting through the air while we jog to keep up with him.

  My breasts bounce up and down as I run. The slave uniform doesn’t include a bra, and I’m starkly uncomfortable in this sheer material; which hides nothing.

  Toads and humans alike catcall and whistle as we’re forced forward. The Toads fucking ribbit at us, deep, thrumming sounds that make me want to throw up. I feel so sick as their leering gazes devour us. It just adds to my discomfort. My legs already burn with exertion, just as my cheeks burn with humiliation.

  I’m humiliated not just at my circumstances, or the leering catcalls, but also at my weariness. In all my twenty-two years of life, I’
ve never had to run this far or fast… But the stakes have never been so high.

  The girl next to me looks like she’s barely eighteen. She trips as the Toad surges his chair forward, and the collar around her neck drags her along the ground. She’s choking – but our owner doesn’t even care that he’s hurting her. I want to help her, but I know that if I pause for even a moment, I might fall as well… and then I’ll be the one choking to death on the floor.

  But I can’t do nothing – and so, I don’t hesitate: I reach down, dragging her back up to her feet. As I struggle to pull the girl back upright, I feel myself getting pulled down with her…

  …but I use every last bit of my energy to pull her to her feet instead.

  We made it! The terrified girl gasps for air, but even doesn’t have a moment to catch her breath before she’s forced to jog again – all in pursuit of this monstrous slave trader who has us all leashed to his wrist.

  “T-thank you,” the girl gasps, her voice choked and ragged.

  I would have told her: “Save your breath” – but then I’d have failed to follow my own advice. I give her a curt nod instead, and thankfully the Toad slows his hover chair just enough to let her catch up.

  I suppose there’s some small mercy in moving, at least. I’ve spent the last week locked in the cargo hold of a stinking slaver-ship – thrown there after the transport vessel I had passage on was taken over. This slimy, flabby Toad bastard picked us up when the slave ship landed and dragged us right here – to the seedy, outskirt slave market we currently inhabit.