Page 32 of Taken By the Aurelian Warriors

I throw back the sheets and clamber out of bed, looking for something – anything – to throw against the window. If I can crack it, or break it, surely the hotel security systems will activate and the staff will be forced to investigate. Maybe I can use such an investigation as an opportunity to escape.

I grab a lamp and pull my arm back…

…and then, the bedroom door opens, and I choke back a scream.

The Aurelian is back.

Gods, perhaps he couldn’t resist his urges after all!

The mating rage must have taken the leader of the Aurelians over completely. He stands there in the doorway, and his cock strains against his pants like a steel rod.

I’m paralyzed, standing by the window with my hand drawn back – about to throw the bedside lamp at the gleaming, glass windows.

Instead, the lamp falls from my hand and shatters against the tile floor.

I try to run – but there’s nowhere to go.

The leader of the Aurelians swoops across the room inhumanly fast, and grabs both my wrists in a steel grasp. He effortlessly encircles both my wrists with a single hand – and while I pull away, he’s far too strong for me to escape him.

I gasp as the Aurelian claps a handcuff around my wrist – and then secures the other end of the cuffs to the bedpost. In doing so, the towering Aurelian has to press his body against mine – and, as he does so, I feel that hard, steel rod straining against in his pants.

It’s too big to be real.

Then, the cuffs secured, the Aurelian pulls away.

For a second, he stands looming over me – cock straining his pants, and his breathing harsh and ragged. It looks like he’s balanced on a knife-edge, and I have no idea which side he’ll fall to…

…and then, he walks out – slamming the door behind him.

Somehow, the Aurelian fought off the mating rage.

Why?

I have no idea.

He’d already forsaken the laws of his Empire by kidnapping me. Why didn’t he just take me, as well – the way Rogue Aurelians do, with the defense that they’re merely upholding the Old Ways.

The leader of the Aurelianscouldhave – and yet despite his obvious arousal, he still fought back his nearly overwhelmingneedfor me.

I’m panting. I rub my wrist. The handcuff is tight, but not painful. It’s affixed firmly against the solid wood bedpost, though. I won’t be able to break the window – or even retreat much further than I’m sitting now.

I bite my lip.

I should be focusing on my captivity – how I’m about to be used as a bargaining chip against my poor father.

But, instead, I can’t stop imaginingit.

What wouldithave been like if that huge, rock-hard, lust-fueled Aurealian beast had lost control?

How helpless would I have felt as he ripped my dress from me? As he forced me against the bed?

Would he have groaned when his fingers found my treacherous wetness? Showing him that I secretly ached to be taken hard and fast, just like he ached to take me? That I secretly craved to be conquered by him?

I’m so ashamed. My nipples are aching points, and I squirm in bed, fighting off the desires building up in my body and leaving me trembling.

Is this Stockholm syndrome? So soon? I’ve barely been a prisoner of these Aurelians for an hour.

I wish I could find another logical reason for what I’m feeling – but I can’t. After years of being sheltered and protected, my body is aching to break free – to bebrokenfree.

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