Page 33 of Claimed by the Alien Warrior Triad

“These three… These three will never leave my side…” I murmur to myself, looking down at Brigg.

His face is so strong, his body so powerful, and he struggles to try to lift himself up despite the pain of his wounds.

For a moment I imagine life here. Learning their language, and then learning what lies behind the stern exteriors of these three starkly different men.

The warrior, Stryker, who at first seemed so ferocious – but then splashed me playfully in the pool of water.

The mohawked Haleon, who’d fight any foe for me; fearless and devoted.

Then, finally, the wounded Brigg – who I have yet to taste and experience, but so keenly hunger to do so.

“These three will never leave my side… and they’ll die never having a son.”

I say it out loud, and a deep coldness washes over me. One that isn’t caused by the New York winter. I finally understand fully the reality of this situation. I feel it so deep in my heart – that these Greek-Gods of men are utterly devoted to me, even though they barely know me. It’s as though they waited their entire lives for me.

And I will never bear them the sons they want.

They’ll grow old.

They’ll die.

And, because of their devotion to me, none of them will pass on their legacy.

“I can’t give you what you need,” I whisper to Brigg, my heart wrenching. I quickly grab my mud-soaked skirt and purse, pulling the fabric up around my waist, and feeling the familiar weight of my apartment key that I’ll never use again. My credit card. My phone. All the things that are so obsolete on this planet. The tattered remains of my shirt are still on the ground, but I grab my coat instead, and pull it over my shoulders, hiding any trace of my bare skin.

Brigg can’t understand my words, but he knows what my tone of voice means, and he can see me collecting my belongings. The wounded warrior growls in pain and pulls himself to his feet, his face a rictus of agony. His eyes are so wide that I can see the white circling the green of them. He reaches out, trying to pull me back. I dart away, and before I can second guess myself, I throw myself through the portal.

The cold air hits me like a slap. I turn to get one last look at Brigg, but the portal snaps shut almost instantly the moment I do – disappearing into nothingness as if it never existed.

It’s as if my time with the Aurelians never happened.

The cold sludge chills my feet and I rush out of the alley. Even for New York, land of the free and home of the weird, I look crazy – with disheveled hair, and barefoot in the cold of winter. My feet are freezing as I rush to the closest hotel, and I’m not sure if the man at the front desk who looks at me with wide eyes is going to take my Amex, or call security.

Ultimately, though, he hands me a room key; as if this is just any other day in New York, and I’m just any other weird-ass customer.

I take the elevator up. When I close the door of the small room behind me, the surreal nature of the situation hits me. I crawl into the rented bed – and despite receiving exactly what I’d been desperately begging for – a way back home – I instantly feel the greatest pang of loss.

This is far worse than losing Joshua. This is the loss of comprehension – of not knowing if I’m insane, or really here... Really back home in New York.

A New York that no longerfeelslike my home.

I feel grief. Grief for the Aurelians. I barely knew them, and yet I ache for them – for their touch.

If only I could have given them what they needed. Then, the temptation to leave every dark and dirty mistake of my past would have overwhelmed me. I would have stayed on that jungle planet in a heartbeat; embracing a bold new life with those gorgeous Greek-God warrior-aliens.

But instead, I spared them that disappointment.

I spared myself that shame, and self-hatred.

Instead, I turn on my phone, waiting to see the inevitable missed calls and emails.

I’ll be back in my old life in no time.

But how the hell can I live my old life? Now that I know there is so much more?

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