Page 13 of Claimed by the Alien Warrior Triad

My mind devised the cruelest scenario possible: It imagined three huge, sexy men who want me so fucking badly they’d travel toanother worldto abduct me.

Me, specifically. They even know my fucking name!

My mind imagined that these three, seven-feet tall, Greek Gods of men wanted tobreedme, and make me sire their children.

But they’ll have me, and when I can’t produce a heir, they’ll throw me out. Apparently,thatis my mind’s way of dealing with this tragedy. My mind’s way of dealing with Joshua’s betrayal. My mind has decided to concoct a scenario in which my only worth is to produce children; highlighting the bitter failure that Ican’t.

“Oh, God…” I mutter, tears coming to my eyes. I’m trapped in this horrible fantasy – this torturous falsehood, designed by the one person who knows how to hurt me better than anyone else.

Myself.

Stryker points, and I sniff, forcing the tears back before he can notice. I turn my head. He’s pointing to a mountain far in the distance. It’s at least a ten-mile trek, and it’s going to be hell without proper footwear. I look longingly at Stryker’s broad shoulders for a moment, knowing how easy it would be to let him carry me.

Apparently, he noticed. Stryker slaps the flesh of his shoulder, indicating he’s more than willing to carry me.

But I have my pride.

My mind might be able to torture me, but it can’tbreakme.

I brush myself off, jut my chin up, and start walking.

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4

Haleon

“Aubrey is strong and prideful,” I say to my triad. She saw how far it would be to walk to our home, and yet she chose to make her own way. It will not be an easy task for a creature with such small legs to make it that distance – not at the paceweset.

Aubrey looks back, her eyes flashing at the sound of her name. She knows I’m talking about her. I could have telepathed the thought, but seeing her riled up is a pleasure. When she fell into the mud, I couldn’t help but relish the flush of her cheeks as they reddened in embarrassment.

Her body’s reactions are like nectar to me. I ache to claim her, to taste the luscious gift between her legs, to turn her bottom red with my hand and finally enter her.

I don’t care that she doesn’t speak a word of our language. She knows my name, and that’s the only word I want to hear on her lips. My cock surges as I stare at the curves of her bottom, so different from the male form. Her hips roll with every step, hypnotizing me as she walks.

“Strength and pride are good assets. She’ll bear us a hundred powerful sons,” answers Brigg, his own pride surging through the bond as he drinks in Aubrey’s being.

My triad left the safety of our tribe thirty years ago to make our own way. We found a safe home in the mountains and trained for decades, honing our battle skills until we knew we were strong enough to kill a suitable offering for our Orb God.

Our Orb God rests in the deep caverns of my tribal home. It’s larger than I am – a huge sphere that grants our tribe what we need more than anything – for a price.

And what is it we need? Well, all Aurelians like us are born male. Our only chance to sire children is to bring a powerful sacrifice to our Orb God. We give the Orb God a blood sacrifice, won in dangerous battle, and if our God deems the sacrifice worthy, it will open a hole in reality for us – a rift in time and space leading us directly to the woman destiny has chosen as our mate.

Ten years ago, my triad fought and killed a fifty-foot crocodile. It was a battle that lasted nearly an hour, and left a long scar on Brigg’s chest. We brought the head of the crocodile to the Orb, and it rewarded us with a vision of our mate.

Aubrey.

The Orb sang her name and showed her in a huge structure – a massive home so tall it would dwarf the biggest tree. She was surrounded by men in stern, black clothing.

I hated seeing her around other men, even puny humans, who had not even earned their first markings. We tribesman earned our ink early in our lives – at a mere one-hundred-and-thirty years of age; when a Scorp found us mining precious metals close to our home. Women and children were watching us. The young were enthralled by the gold we found, enticed by the shimmering metal.

The Scorp rushed for them. We got in between the beast and our tribe, defending the women and children while the older men of the tribe were out hunting. We defeated the Scorp, and our youthful exploits were recognized as those of men. The tribe rewarded us with our markings.

Brigg also forged a golden chain to commemorate the event, but for me, the markings on my skin were enough.

The tattoos the tribe gave me, as a sign of manhood, changed me irrevocably.

I have to force back the anger and bloodlust of combat almost constantly. The ink they used is made from Scorp venom itself; and it rages beneath my skin like lava, even decades after first being administered there.

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