Page 47 of Taken By the Aurelian Warriors

To me, this sleeping bag is as comfortable as a feather bed. I can’t even tell that I’m on a hard, dank, concrete floor.

I roll over and peek through the mouth of the sleeping bag at Brennan.

Behind him, I can see Otho lugging down a duffel bag of supplies. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he lunks the bag onto the floor with a thud, and leaves. I guess he’s ferrying in the supplies while Brennan stands watch over me.

Once Otho has left, I work up the courage to break Rule One – no speaking.

Wriggling my head out of the sleeping bag, I ask: “Brennan. Why do you want my father’s Orb-Material mines so badly?”

I know talking is a risk. Brennan warned me to shut up already, and Otho forced me to earlier, with that ball gag. The gag is still around here somewhere – and if I piss one of these Aurelians off, it would be barely an inconvenience for any of them to shove that gag back between my teeth again.

The feeling of that thing intruding in my mouth was more humiliating than even being spanked was. It filled my mouth with drooling saliva. It forces my tongue to swirl around that ball-shaped, rubbery gag. It made me think…

…it made me think of those straining erections I’d seen in Brennan and Otho’s pants. It made me think of how much bigger, and thicker those outlines seemed than the huge ball that had stretched my mouth open.

I shake my head. I need to focus with my brain, not my heart – or that place between my thighs which throbs in time to my racing heart.

I take a gulp andthink.

These three Aurelians arrived on Marn and rented the most luxurious penthouse in the city – but now, they’re willing to hide out in an abandoned factory instead, for what could be weeks.

What does that mean? What clues does it give me?

It suggests these Aurelians aren’t a crime family, like those that run the black market on Marn. Nor are they wealthy businessmen, like the executives of the corporations who run the mostly-legal side of things on this planet. If they were, these three Aurelians would have found a way to remain in luxury – or at least comfort – during the weeks ahead.

But this is all conjecture on my part. The common perception of Aurelians is that they’re sophisticated degenerates – idling in togas and feather beds on Colossus.

But I’ve read about the hundred years of service each Aurelian must pledge to his Empire – and how they’ll spend a century sleeping on the rocks of pitch-black Scorp caverns, or in cold steel bunks aboard Aurelian Military vessels.

Aurelians enjoy luxury, but they thrive equally without it.

If only I had more clues. Again, my brain races.

I remember my father mentioning friction within the Aurelian Empire. I look up at Brennan, who is practically ignoring me, and I hope that topic is a sore enough point to nudge the alien into talking.

“Are you trying to secure it for your Empire? Is it true you’re on the brink of civil war?”

At that, Brennan’s face turns sharply toward me.

“What did I tell you?” He rises, towering over me. The volume of his voice is a harsh warning – but I feel like I have to keep pressing.

“Please, tell me. I need to know why you’re doing this. You’rescaringme.”

Brennan’s cold, alien eyes soften for a moment.

He turns and lifts one of the duffle bags Otho had brought down on his last trip. Carrying it, Brennan walks towards me, until he’s standing in front of me like a looming mountain.

With me lying in the sleeping bag, and him towering over me, the sheersizeof him is even more pronounced. He truly is like one of those Gods the Greeks and Romans carved statues of. He’s magnificent.

Thump!

Brennan drops the duffel bag in front of me with a heavy thud. The bag must weigh a hundred pounds, but he’d carried it like it weighed no more than a feather.

“Clothes for you,” the Aurelian murmurs. “Food, toiletries. Everything you need.” He pauses. “We are not cruel.”

His high cheekbones and chiseled face amplify Brennan’s haughty, cold demeanor, despite his words.

I look up at him, and gulp dryly.

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