Page 102 of Aurelian Prisoner

21

Allie

Oh, Gods!

I’m going to get fucked! Fucked in front of a huge crowd of stranger!

I’m going to face the humiliation and shame of being bred by these three, huge Aurelians – all while strangers jeer and watch. A shudder of humiliating lust crawls down my spine. I suddenly feel the strangest heat between my legs.

I reach out to the auras dwelling in my mind.

Hadrian and Kitos are both balls of pure, raging fire.

Daccia is nothing – as cold and emotionless as usual.

Then, suddenly, he speaks – but not with words. Telepathically, through the Bond:

“We can fight him. Say the word, Allie. We’ll do it in the elevator, away from his weapons.”

I realize with horror that Daccia is suggesting we fight our way out of The Rhino, rather than submit to Torelli’s disgusting challenge.

We’ll fight out way out – without weapons!

I can’t imagine we’ll get far. If we manage to reach it, the elevator might not have weapons inside it – but this whole whorehouse of a club is like a trap.

But I feel a surge of affection realizing that Daccia would rather fight and die than pressure me to do something I don’t want to. If I said the word, my triad would fight and die for my honor alone.

But I’m not going to let them die – not just to get out of the shame of being taken, hard, in front of a crowd of strangers.

If that’s what we have to do to prove to Torelli that we’re not working for the Aurelian Law Enforcement agency, and win his reluctant trust, then that’s what we’ll have to do.

If Torelli has any information about my sister, we’re not going to get it by killing him – or by letting him killus.

“It’s okay,”I telepath to the triad.“We can do it. Wehaveto.”

Daccia never changes his outward expression, but the edge of near-violence dissipates from his aura.

He turns to Torelli, and sneers: “You want us to fuck this little slut? In front of a crowd?”

Torelli stares at him, emotionless.

After what seems like an eternity of staring at each other, Daccia snorts:

“Fine!” Then his eyes narrow beneath his goggles. “But after we get through this carnival act, Torelli, we’re going to talk business.Realbusiness – not this small-time shit.”

I control my breathing. I canfeelthe creeping shame building and building inside of me. I try not to image how slutty I’ll feel when these three, huge warriors begin fucking me into submission – in front of countless, eager eyes.

I’m still kneeling on the carpet, head turned down as an obedient slave’s should be.

Like that, it’s hard to see the faces of the Aurelians – but I can see Torelli’s brows draw down.

He’s surprised. Surprised that Daccia would accept his challenge – because he knows no Aurelian Law Enforcement agent would fuck a real slave – or a woman pretending to be one – as part of an investigation.

Torelli is distrustful, but he’s clearly a man of twisted pride. The crime boss nods.

“Once I know you’re not agents,” he sneers, “the sky is the limit. But first? I need to see you go through with this. Talk is cheap.”

That greasy slime-ball, Giovanni, suddenly appears behind us. I can smell his hair oil, even though I can’t see him positioned like this. The way the Bond has enhanced my senses has made me so much more aware of everything around me – sights, sounds, and especially smells.

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