Page 97 of Aurelian Prisoner

Daccia takes the lead. He simply ignores the request – as if the greasy-haired man demanding our weapons is so inferior to us that we don’t even acknowledge his existence.

If nothing else, that would keep up the character of a haughty, arrogant high-roller.

Ignoring the man’s splutters, we enter the elevator. He reluctantly presses the button, and the elevator descends two floors. Moments later, the elevator shudders to a halt – but the doors stay shut.

“I’llhappilywelcome you to the main bar,” the same greasy-haired man interjects, with a little more determination this time. “If you’d like any of the girls, feel free to try them out. You’ll be billed afterward...”

Daccia stares forward. “We’re more interested inbuyingthe girls.”

There’s a sudden smile on the greasy henchman’s face – one he grins before he can hide it.

“Ah!” His voice becomes more sycophantic. “Men of moresophisticatedtastes. That can be arranged, too.”

Then that smile hardens.

“However, before we get out – Ineedyour weapons.”

No please this time. No apology. He was obviously offended when Daccia ignored him the first time.

Kitos, Hadrian and Daccia exchange glances – and this time they pass over the hilts of their Orb-Weapons without pause.

It’s an interesting exchange. Daccia’s initial refusal was to show this man how little he thought of him… Then, the respectful acquiescence that followed was like giving a treat to a dog – giving him just enough acknowledgement not to be bitter about it.

But it was an inevitable move. Nobody would have allowed the Aurelians into the club with their Orb-Weapons. For a moment, I imagine how deadly those three warriors would be with those otherworldly weapons activated – and I can see why anybody would be scared of them.

Giovanni gratefully accepts the weapons – before pressing a button on the side of the elevator wall that opens a small compartment. Giovanni pushes the Orb-Weapons inside. They instantly get sucked away into storage.

“…and then,” he holds up his hand, almost apologetically, “a quick scan.”

And glass-faced camera device extends from the elevator ceiling and scans over us.

My stomach drops. My upgrades – those implants in my arms – were promised to be undetectable except under the lens of a full medical scan…

…but I’ve never tested that promise, and given all the other defects in the black-market tech, I’m not entirely confident in it.

I turn my eyes down, my heart pounding in my chest. I hold my breathe in suspense.

The scan lasts just seconds, but it seems like years. Then, finally, the camera tucks itself back away into the roof, apparently detecting nothing, and the doors of the elevator open in front of us, revealing a degenerate’s paradise.

The noisy ring of slots machines and clanging jackpots hits us. Tables all around us are filled with men playing cards, and I instantly notice there’s not a single femalecustomerhere… but not a single man working behind any of the tables or bars.

More than that – all the woman who work here are topless. Whether they’re dealing poker, serving drinks, or just walking around as eye candy, all these gorgeous women are being constantly oogled…

…until we stepped in.

The sounds of slot machines being yanked slows. The cards pause for a moment from being pitched onto the felt. All around us, one-by-one, customers and staff of this club pause to stare at the three, huge Aurelian warriors who’ve just entered the establishment.

It’s a fair reaction. Aurelians aren’t a common sight this far beyond the borders of Aurelian territory – and the arrival of three of the seven-feet tall warriors instantly draws all the attention.

I feel so small compared to Daccia, Kitos and Hadrian. I stand between them as we step into the seedy glitz of this casino, and I feel like a superstar. In fact, I even feel a pang of pity as I see women of all different shapes, sizes and races around us – women I’d normally feel unattractive and bland in comparison to. When my triad looks at these exotic beauties, they might as well be looking at furniture for all the lust they throw in the direction of these nearly-naked women.

It’s crazy to imagine. Aurelians have hundreds of human women vying for their attention. Their species is infinite for building huge harems of eager volunteers.

Yet, in my case, I’m theonlywoman any of these Aurelians want. It’s hard to believe, but as the three of them scan the droves of topless women, there’s isn’t even a hint of lust within their auras. They’re looking at all these beautiful women, sure – but only for the only purpose of finding my little sister among them.

Yet, every face is a disappointment.

I knew it was crazy to think I’d find Lilac immediately – conveniently serving drinks or dealing Blackjack – but some part of me had visualized the joy of seeing my little sister – just a little older than when I last saw her – in the crowd. My triad would then begin the negotiations for buying her, and we’d peacefully and discreetly end the horror of her kidnapping.

The three Aurelians haven’t ever seen Lilac, but I know they’ll identify her if they see her. When she was taken, three years earlier, you could have mistaken her and I for twins. My only fear is that the harshness of life as a slave hasn’t hardened her looks to the point that I wouldn’t recognize her.

Oh, Gods! Stop, Allie! You’re already thinking she’s alive again. Curse this poison of hope the Aurelians warn about. Curse it!

Daccia turns to Giovanni and asks the greasy-haired henchman: “When can we speak with the owner. Where is Mr. Torelli?”

“Right this way, sir.”

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