Aurelian Prisoner Read online

  My mind races as he drags me into the hallway.

  Not the businessmen from the stage earlier? Then who?

  Fuck.

  The only other group in Spur’s joint tonight was them.

  The Aurelians.

  It has to be the Aurelians who demanded to see me – specifically me.

  But… Why?

  My mind already leaps to the worst possible scenario – that, as I’d feared, these ‘Rogue’ Aurelians are really Law Enforcement in disguise…

  But they could just be three huge, alien warriors who’ve taken a fancy to me. If that’s the case – my situation might not be too much better. What if they erupt into the infamous Aurelian mating frenzy while they’re alone with me?

  I don’t know which scenario would be worse.

  The thought of being trapped in a room with three huge, seven-feet-tall, muscle-bound aliens – aliens who can’t physically hold back their raging desire to seed my body – is both terrifying…

  …and yet also feeds into my deepest, darkest fantasies.

  On the other hand, the thought of being grabbed up by Law Enforcement…

  Well, that’s just simply, coldly horrifying.

  But, regardless, there’s nothing I can do.

  Obbit is fucking strong.

  He pulls me out of the change room even as I slap at his body, shouting: “Stop! Get your fucking hands off me!”

  I plant my feet and I use a twisting maneuver I’d learned – one intended to get out of a much stronger opponent’s grip. It’s a clever move that targets the weak point of somebody’s hold – and it works.

  To Obbit’s shock, I suddenly wrench myself away from his hand.

  For a moment, I’m impressed – but I make it one, single step when suddenly Obbit’s hand swings and hits me hard across the face.

  I’m knocked against the wall – stunned.

  That would be bad enough, but then Obbit lurches forward and pins me against the wall.

  Suddenly, the Aurelians are the least of my worries. I’m being crushed against the wall by a massive, slimy creature that’s wanted me ever since the first time he saw me. His beady eyes morph into narrow slits as he pins me against the wall. Sweaty slime drips down his cheek. Obbit’s huge tongue slithers out from between his bulbous lips, lapping up his own salty sweat as he forces me back against the wall.

  “You listen, you fucking bitch,” the Toad warns. “I know you think you’re better than everyone else around here – but you’re going to go into that room whether you like it or not – and you’re going to dance. After that, if they want your body, you’re going to give it them; for a price.”

  Obbit’s eyes narrowed.

  “Otherwise, I won’t fire you… I’ll take you up to the fucking roof and throw you off myself. You understand? Nod if you do!”

  Terror fills me. I nod silently. Obbit is capable of doing exactly what he threatens.

  I think to my storage locker just two blocks away, back by my apartment. I’ve got everything I need for a quick getaway stowed there: A fake passport – one that I could have used to get work, but I’d kept hidden instead, in case I needed to get off this fucking planet when the shit hit the fan. Eight-hundred credits – enough to book interstellar travel. There’s also a loaded combustion pistol – just like they used back on Old-Earth.

  I put every cent I had into that getaway kit – but now, the two blocks away might as well be a thousand miles.

  I’m trembling. I don’t think of myself as weak, but when you’re pressed against the wall by five-hundred pounds of Toad-flesh, you realize just how small you are.

  “I’ll do it,” I stammer, disgusted with myself for how quickly I folded.

  “Good.” Obbit pulls me forward, but his grip is no longer so tight it hurts.

  Oh, Gods… Maybe it had only been a matter of time in any case. Up until now, I’ve been able to avoid the private room – ever since I got here a year ago.

  I’ve had men ask me, of course – but I was always able to get out of it, leading them towards other strippers like Brienne who were more than happy to take the credits I could have earned.

  But now, the door stands in front of me. Obbit yanks it open, and my stomach drops.

  I see exactly what I’d been afraid of: Aurelians.

  The three, huge aliens are sitting down in massive wooden chairs – furniture that must have been brought in specially to suit their massive frames. If I’d thought Obbit was big, he’s nothing compared to any of these three Aurelians warriors.

  “Let her go,” growls the leader of the three, his eyes flashing angrily as he sees Obbit manhandling me. The Aurelian stands to his full height. He barely fits in the room – his head practically brushes the ceiling.

  Obbit’s hand instantly releases my arm. I can instantly sense the change in the Toad’s demeanor. He’s used to being the biggest, strongest creature in the club. Now he’s faced with the three Aurelian warriors, his bullying bravado wilts away.

  “Of course, Sir Daccia,” Obbit nods, a stammer in his voice.

  Daccia. I’ve got a piece of information, at least. The leader is called Daccia.

  Obbit learns over to me and hisses: “Do good – or Spur will have your ass, literally.”

  He catches my eye to make sure I heard and understood him – and then Obbit scurries away.

  I step forward, into the room.

  I’m barefoot, and wearing only my bra and a short skirt with a thin thong underneath. Obbit didn’t even give me the time to change into something more appropriate than the outfit these three Aurelians had seen me in on stage. Mind you, maybe that was smart. As soon as he’d told me what was expected of me, he probably anticipated that I’d take any chance to get away.

  I gulp, and try to fake some of the bravado that helps me when I’m on stage.

  “Hello, gentlemen.”

  My smile is forced. I close the door behind me, cornering myself in this room with these three, huge warriors. Earlier, they’d been watching me from all the way at the back of the room; and their hot gazes had been the ones I’d been unable to ignore.

  I hold my fake smile, scanning the three Aurelians closely – looking for any hint at who they might really be. They appear to be Rogue Aurelians – exiles who either deliberately left, or were cast out by the Empire. If that’s true, they’ll have no qualms against taking a woman by force, or purchasing her to add to their harem, as a slave.

  But another possibility exists – that they’re merely posing as Rogue Aurelians, and in reality: They’re the Law.

  If that’s the case – they’re after me for a reason other than my curves.

  A low, violet-tinted light bathes the VIP room. There’s a bucket filled with ice and bottles of champagne on the low table in the center of the room. It’s not real champagne – which is an ancient, luxurious beverage made only on Old-Earth. This local liquor is a sparkling wine produced on planet Bara-KitosE and marketed specifically for Aurelians – at a mark-up equivalent to a week’s worth of my salary.

  The wine remains untouched, though. Instead, the Aurelians are drinking in the sight of me.

  The three of them wear identical, black suits – paired with ivory white dress shirts. Their clothes are tailored to fit their seven-feet-tall, wide and muscular frames. In their matching outfits, the three of them look like brothers. Their facial structures are even similar, though not identical. They have strong jaws, fierce slate-grey eyes, and broad faces that look like they could take absorb a punch and break the fist that delivered it without a flinch.

  I know, though, that these three warriors aren’t triplets. Aurelian triads are a trio of warriors bonded by something far strong than blood – normally an act of comradeship in the heat of battle. They call it the Bond.

  That would explain why, at their waists, the three Aurelians carry the hilts of their species’ signature Orb-Weapons. This trio must have served in the Aurelian Army at some point – or possibly even deserted to go
Rogue before the conclusion of their hundred years of service.

  I know the leader of the triad, Daccia, earned his position instinctively. When Aurelians bond as a triad, one is automatically recognized as the leader; without jealousy or conflict from the other two. Daccia even looks like a leader – standing slightly taller than the others, and in the center of the trio.

  Daccia studies me coldly – his slate-grey eyes sending a shiver down my spine. For what seems like an eternity, he’s silent – before suddenly growling:

  “You caught my eye… Scarlet.”

  I cringe at the sound of my fake name.

  “My triad requested to see you in private,” Daccia continues slowly, his voice deep and resonant in the closed room.

  Scarlet. Daccia paused when he said my name. Does that mean he knows?

  I nearly snort out loud.

  Of course he knows that’s not your real name! None of the girls use their real name for stripping. A fake name doesn’t mean anything…

  …it doesn’t mean they know.

  I gulp dryly, and widen my forced smile.

  Play the part, Allie. Don’t let your anxiety get the best of you. These three Aurelians could just be here for a good time – because you caught their eye.

  It doesn’t mean they’re here for you.

  “You’re so big!” I speak in a slight drawl – my ‘stage voice’ which I use to separate the roles of Allie and Scarlet. “You must be thirsty.”

  I waltz to the champagne and drinks, trying to sashay my hips in that effortless, seductive way that Brienne does. With the roll of my hips and the touch of a southern accent under my tongue, I don’t feel like myself – like Allie – and that gives me a veneer of confidence I wouldn’t normally possess.

  The seductive walk is strictly business – but the accent is to throw off any suspicion just in case these three Aurelians really are Law Enforcement. No one where I’m from spoke with such an accent growing up, so hopefully it will keep them off my trail.

  The Aurelian to the right of Daccia steps forward.

  “What’s your real name?” His voice is a low growl. I stop cold in my tracks, my mind racing.

  “Tasha,” I say answer – the first name I can think of – but there’s a slight stutter in my voice. I know they must have detected it too – a clue that I’m still not being truthful with them.

  Don’t panic, Allie. You’re a stripper – you’re not expected to be truthful with customers. Don’t assume anything about these three. Don’t make your situation worse with needless fears.

  This second Aurelian is broader and bulkier than Daccia, with an enormous barrel chest. Danger radiates off of him – more so than it does from a regular Aurelian. Even by the standards of their deadly, warrior species, this one looks like a brutal fighter – a barely trained wolf, who’d kill and maim anyone his leader points him toward.

  I take another step towards the champagne, wondering: Did I pause too long before saying the fake name?

  It’s impossible to tell if the tension I sense from the Aurelians is because they’re Law Enforcement, operating undercover…

  …or they just want to throw me to the ground and claim me.

  I shudder at the thought.

  The mating frenzy of Aurelians is infamous, throughout the universe. Upon completion of their hundred years of military service to the Empire, Aurelians spend the remaining thousands of years of life scouring the universe, searching for their fabled ‘Fated Mate’. The only way to confirm that a woman is their Bonded mate – the only woman in the universe genetically compatible with that specific triad, and able to bear their sons – is through the act of mating.

  As a result, Aurelians descend into madness when they’re aroused. The brutality and need of their mating is unrivalled. If these three decide they want to claim my body, I won’t get out of this room unscathed. They’ll take me – and Spur and Obbit have made it clear I’m not to refuse them.

  That means I have one chance, and one chance only.

  I smile and uncork the champagne, giving a fake gasp at the sound of the pop. As I pour the bubbly liquid, the three Aurelians sit back down slowly; never taking their slate-grey eyes from my scanty outfit and exposed flesh.

  I carefully pour three glasses of the bubbly liquid. As I do so, I turn away from them – working my tongue into a cavity on the inside of my cheek.

  A long time ago, a black-market doctor sewed a tiny pouch into the inside of my mouth; just big enough to hide a single capsule.

  The capsule I’ve had hidden there for months emerges from its hiding place with the pressure of my tongue, and I let it fall into my hands; hopefully unspotted by the Aurelians.

  I break open the capsule in my fingers, crumbling the white powder inside it into the drinks.

  This drug is one of my three weapons of last resort. I fear I won’t have to resort to the other two.

  The drug I dosed the champagne with was specifically formulated to drop Aurelians to the ground. That much powder would kill a human – numbing their autonomic system to the point of unconsciousness and death. For a four-hundred-pound, monstrous Aurelian, it’s enough put their muscular asses into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  My hands are shaking with adrenaline as I stir the drinks with the swirl of my wrist; watching the powder blend with the bubbles.

  If I get out of this unscathed – and that’s a big if – I’ve made up my mind. I can’t work in Spur’s joint anymore. If an Aurelian triad came here today – inviting me to this private room, no less – then more will be on their way. Sooner or later, one triad or another will recognize who I am.

  I need to leave…

  …but first, I have to get rid of these three Aurelians.

  I pick up the glasses of bubbly champagne, my mind already plotting my course of action:

  First, I escape this room – and these three huge, dominant Aurelians. Then I get to that locker, two blocks away. Afterward, I catch the first flight I can off this fucking hell-hole planet.

  It’s far from ideal. It means I will have lost two years of my life for nothing. I spent two years here, putting together my escape plan, and now all that work is going to come unraveled as I flee like a rat from a sinking ship; leaving everything I’ve worked for behind.

  The sound of the Aurelian’s low voices snaps me from my plotting.

  “Put the glasses down,” the leader growls. Panic hits me. I turn, feeling my heart pounding in my chest.

  “N-Not thirsty?” Dammit, why did I have to stammer?

  The Aurelian doesn’t smile. Daccia simply orders: “Dance for me.”

  His voice is a harsh command – but it carries a thin edge of lust beneath it. That lust is the only thing that reassures me.

  If these three are Rogue Aurelians, I’ll survive. I might not like it – but I’ll be able to get out of here no matter what they do with me. To me.

  A shiver runs down my body. I’ve slept with two men since escaping the Aurelian Harem – human men. Both were big, standing over six-feet-tall, with muscular bodies…

  …but both left me utterly unsatisfied.

  That’s the part I’m most ashamed about in all this. No matter how far I run. No matter how much I hide. No matter what escape plans I have in place, or tricks up my sleeve…

  …part of me still craves the harsh dominance of Aurelians.

  I was taken time and time again while I was in that harem, and I can’t pretend that it didn’t leave me breathless and trembling. I can’t pretend that part of me wasn’t tempted to stay…

  I can’t pretend that part of me doesn’t tremble with anticipation right now, at the thought of re-experiencing that passion and power, at the hands of these three towering Aurelian warriors.

  But that will only happen if they really are Rogue Aurelians – exiles from the Empire.

  If they’re Law Enforcement – as part of me stubbornly suspects – then it won’t be pleasure and passion I receive from them. It’ll be a cold p
air of cuffs around my wrists. I’ll be shackled and my freedom will be taken away – for good this time.

  I hope beyond hope that these Aurelians really are Rogue – and steel myself for what they might do to me if that’s true.

  “Of course, sir,” I murmur in what I hope is a seductive tone – emphasizing the last word: Sir.

  That’ll get them turned on almost as much as my body will – I know that for a fact. Aurelians love to be dominant. I found that out during those three painful weeks on an Aurelian planet.

  My mind briefly recalls my time spent on there.

  I’d been just eighteen when I volunteered for an Aurelian harem on Antonius 5, the spice planet. I made sure I was the perfect little submissive slut for the triad who accepted me. I gave them everything about myself – my body, my soul…

  Everything except my heart. That I reserved for my missing sister; and my quest to recover her from the space-pirates.

  Yes, I’d given those Aurelians everything…

  …until I’d got access to their safe, and then I’d stolen enough to pay the pirate’s ransom.

  I’d been willing to whore myself out to save my sister’s life…

  …but not my own.

  I stand there and feel the heat of Daccia’s eyes on my body. It’s so fucking tempting to give in – to embrace the tortured pleasures I’d experienced as part of an Aurelian harem…

  But I won’t.

  I’d done that for my sister. Fucking these three Aurelians now? It wouldn’t get me any close to finding her. To rescuing her – if she was even still alive.

  So, I won’t give in. Not to them, or to my barely restrained desires.

  If these Aurelians want me, they’re going to have to take me – kicking and screaming.

  Not that they wouldn’t be able to. These three alien bastards are so fucking huge that they’d be able to pin me down effortlessly. They could take me, and fuck me hard, and seed me again and again – and there’d be absolutely nothing I could do to stop them.

  Each of these beastly men must weigh four or five-hundred pounds, and that’s more than enough pure muscle to force me to submit to whatever they desire of me.