Page 46 of Protected by the Alien Warrior Triad

If I’d said a word in deference to the Aurelians, he’d have known instantly that I was useless to him – too stupid to predict what he wanted to hear.

Perhaps, in that circumstance, I’d have ended up dead – incinerated like my neighbors back in Barl, with all trace of me gone. I might be the only person other than the four orphans who witnessed the devastation on Barl. I’m certainly one of the only civilians to have seen what had happened to the city, and who was ultimately responsible.

I have a feeling the Viceroy would snap my neck in an instant if he viewed it as being politically beneficial – and therefore I had to tread extremely carefully.

It was ironic. I’d faced death a hundred times in the slums and poverty of Barl – yet I was somehow no safer here, even in the opulence of the gleaming Capital city.

The Viceroy turned and snapped: “Have the weapons inspected and sent to the Lord’s chambers to be viewed.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Then he looked back towards me:

“You, come with me.” He turns and walks away.

I follow him into a room with a medical examination table. “Strip,” he demands, looking at me with his cold, dead eyes.

I blink.Strip?

Once again, I remember how much danger I’m in. This is not the issue to make my stand against. However, there’s one important detail I need to take care of – so I ask:

“Could I… Could I have some privacy?”

The Viceroy looks at me without any indication that he heard or even understood my words. I swallow, nervousness creeping over me.

I don’t hesitate out of fear that he’s going to see my naked body – that much I could just deal with. In fact, by the cold, calculating way the Viceroy looks at me, I have the feeling he’d get no more excitement looking at my naked body than looking at a chair or table.

No, the cause of my anxiety is the small vial of Mercy I still have tucked away in my sock. If the Viceroy discovers that, he’ll know that I was scheming to potentially use it – that I didn’t come to this palace quite so innocently as my play-acting might make it appear.

One drop of Mercy can be used to mask the deepest pain, but it also destroys the mind – merely eating away at the pain receptors first. One drop will not have a lasting effect: The brain can recover. But two drops? The subject will be mentally slowed for the rest of their life. Three drops? The subject will nothavea rest of his life. They’ll pass into oblivion in calmness and tranquility; their brain unraveling cell by cell.

That’s why this black liquid is only ever used to treat the most severe, terminal pain – because it literally grants “Mercy” to the already dying.

If the viceroy finds the vial in my sock, I know that the best fate I could hope for is him merely forcing me to drink it – to swallow the contents of the entire bottle, and fall into the last sleep of my life.

However, there would likely be far worse alternatives.

The Viceroy doesn’t move, and I realize he’s not going to acquiesce to my request. Shivering, I pull my shirt over my head and try and think of some plan to conceal my contraband.

Strangely enough, the motion of removing my shirt makes me remember the way the two Aurelians touched me the night before, in our makeshift shelter.

God, I’d been trembling with arousal then, instead of shivering with fear as I am now. I remember the way I relished the hungry eyes of those two towering aliens on my body. They were animalistic –primal. When they looked at me, they did it with open want and need…

…in contrast, there is no emotion in the Viceroy’s eyes. He might as well be a machine and not a man.

Shivering, I unlace my boots. My next movements will determine whether I live or die.

I pull my sock off in one quick tug – and, with my heart pounding, I snatch the tiny vial of liquid mercy out of the rough pocket of material.

Then it’s concealed in my palm, and despite the Viceroy staring at me for any sign of suspicious behavior, he’s somehow not seen me take it.

I turn away from him and undo my bra. With my face turned away from him, I quickly place the vial into my mouth and conceal it beneath my tongue.

My heart pounds.

One false move of my mouth – if I fall, or have something hit me in the jaw…Fuck, if this tiny vial breaks under my tongue…

From now on, there’ll be the constant risk of death – and I’ll be reminded of it, by the feeling of the hard vial in my mouth.

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