Page 9 of Claimed by the Alien Warrior Triad

In real life, I’m probably in an ambulance right now – being shipped off to a mental facility after being found convulsing in the alley.

I didn’t just lose the love of my life today… I lost the career I’d worked so hard for the past decade to achieve. You can’t be a high-level lawyer and have a mental breakdown. The firm would become a laughing stock if they employed a lawyer who wasn’t balanced, sober, and respectable.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

I yell the words to myself, slapping myself hard enough on my cheeks to see stars.

The huge man carrying me stops so abruptly my head smacks against his bulk. I bite my tongue by accident.

“Ow,” I say to myself, shocked by hitting myself. With surprising gentleness, the enormous man slowly sets me down and stands before me – a towering figure who makes me feel tiny in his shadow. The moment my feet hit the ground I realize I feel lighter – as if gravity just turned itself down a notch or two, or I finally lost that stubborn ten pounds that never seems to go away.

I should be terrified. I’m either having a mental breakdown, or I’m in a lush climate – an alien one, if the gravity is any clue – with three huge, savage men covered in tattoos and scars. I don’t know which situation would be worse.

Despite that, I’m at least somehow comforted by the huge man in the front of me. His brilliant, emerald eyes drink me in. He reaches out his massive hand towards me. I don’t flinch as he gently strokes my cheek, still stinging from where I slapped myself. The tenderness in his gaze contrasts to the obvious lust in his pants. I’m made very aware of the power difference between us. If he wanted to, there could be nothing I could do to stop him from justtaking mehard in the grass.

I shiver at the thought. A lighting frisson trembles down my spine from his touch. My body is betraying me, responding involuntarily to his fingers tracing the contours of my cheek. My nipples harden to sensitive peaks, and I’m glad I still have my jacket on, despite the warmth – if only to keep a layer of protection between my naked desire and this beastly man.

He doesn’t look at me like I’m a lawyer. He doesn’t look at me like I’m a respected professional.

He looks at me like he’s consumed by my essence. Like he’s utterly obsessed with engraving every detail of my being into his memory. I’ve never felt sowantedin my life. The two huge warriors step closer, and their bodies make me feel so tiny and helpless. It would be soeasyto surrender to these three barbarians – to let them use me for their pleasure. I bite my lip, trying to control my lust as the stranger leans forward, his lips aching for mine.

Oh, my God! Is he going to kiss me?

Then his face changes. All the kindness disappears, leaving only stern violence. My eyes widen as he clenches his jaw tightly.

The three men move in unison, as if they share a single mind – surrounding me, their immense shoulder turned against me. I’m suddenly right in the middle of their three, broad backs. Their bodies are tense and ready. As one, they reach down and grab the hilts of their weapons, as if the stubs could somehowdosomething.

And then the warrior with the buzzcut and the gold-flecked jade eyesactivateshis weapon. Where before there was only a thin, wooden stick in his hand – something that looked almost incomplete – a spiked head suddenly appears at the top of it, emanating a low buzz that I can’t tell if I’m hearing – orfeeling.

I’m transfixed by the weapon. The dark head of the mace is blacker than the deepest blackness. It instantly triggers to the memory of a field trip I took when I was a kid. We went deep into a cave and the guide told us to turn our flashlights off. The pure absence of light scared me so badly I shivered and instantly turned my flashlight back on. Kids at school teased me for being scared of the dark for months – but I couldn’t have stood being in that pitch blackness a second longer.

That darkness, that absence of light, is the color of the mace head; orlackof it. It’s like a fault in reality – an absence of being. Black tendrils drift from the mace-head, so faintly I can’t tell if I’m imagining them or not. A strange blue light emanates from the weapon – an impossible contrast against the material’slackof light.

The leader actives the hilt of his own weapon, and a long black sword appears. I swear it lookshungry,as if a blade can thirst for blood. The long, deadly blade apparates from nothingness to existence, and if I hadn’t already – I nowtrulyrealize how dangerous these three, beastly men are. The mohawked warrior with the flint eyes is the last to actives his own weapon – a cruel and deadly-looking battle axe.

“What’s going on? Are we in danger?” I ask, though I know I’ll get no answer. The three of them ignore my voice completely, focused on something I can’t see. It’s tough to glimpse past their ring of powerful, broad backs, but I search frantically for sight of whatever caused these three terrifying warriors to go on full alert.

Then I hear it.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The sound triggers a reflex in my primordial brain. My animal instincts awaken – long ignored in the safety of those pristine law offices and courts; whereIwas the apex predator.

Now my fight or flight instincts flare up – and flight tells me torun.

I step back, panic gripping me – about to try and break out of the protective circle I’m surrounded by. Then, suddenly, the warrior with the mohawk wraps his huge hand around my arm. His flint-grey eyes, with that light touch of green, meet mine, and I feel his aura of protection encircling me.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I recognize the sound. I once went to an aviary, and watched the handler with an eagle. It screamed out in distaste and flapped its wings ferociously. The sound I’m hearing is the beating of wings.

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