Page 49 of Taken By the Aurelian Warriors

It’s less ideal when you’re a prisoner, in a cold basement in a dark and lifeless corner of the city.

That thought is suddenly interrupted by the sharp jab of jealousy in my guts.

Is my theory about them true? Does that mean Brennan, Otho, and Lazar have a hundred women waiting for them back home? Do they have women in their ‘collection’ whose scent ignites their very visible desire the same way I appear to?

Gods, what a thought.

I know Aurelians are infamously lusty – sex-crazed and insatiable – but until this moment I’d felt like it wasmeandme alonewho’d triggered those lust-filled glances and turgid growls from these three Aurelians.

But what if every woman affects them like that? Or if they have half a dozen who inflame the same desire in them back home, as part of their harem.

I’d thought…

I’d thought I was special.

I’ve always beentreatedlike I was special – but special like an object, not a person. I’ve been surrounded by guards my whole life, like you might guard a crown or a diamond. My only experiences with boys are limited to a few stolen kisses when I was a kid – before the kidnappings on Marn became so commonplace that my father refused to let me play with other kids any more.

So, while I might scoff at their experience with human women, the Aurelians still have hundreds of years of experience over me.

Maybe the women they’ve encountered have all been eager and willing volunteers for their harems, but that still means the Aurelians have spent centuries seducing and claiming women. They know their desires, and they know how to sate them…

…or, in the case of me, how to resist those desires.

But what about me? I have no idea what to do with the strange urges and wild desires welling up inside of me. I’m helpless to them – held prisoner by them every bit as much as I’m being held prisoner by these Aurelians.

A suddenthumpsnaps me back into the present.

Otho has returned again, dumping more duffel bags on the concrete. He turns and looks at me – drawing in a deep, scent-filled lungful of air – and then leaves again, presumably to get yet another pile of supplies.

How much stuff do they have? How long do they plan on us being here?

I return to rummaging through the duffel bag Brennan gave me – pulling out a dress from the bag and rolling my eyes.

I just noticed something about all the clothes in this bag.

They’reallpink.

Not to mention, they’re all sheer.

It’s like theywantto dress me up like a little pleasure slave, worthy of an Aurelian Harem. They want me to dress like a seductive little kitten – despite the way the three of them are very clearly fighting to prevent their desire for me from overwhelming them.

Surely, if my Aurelian captors are trying to resist their urge to claim me – then why the hell would they choosethesekinds of clothes?

Once again, it’s like they have no idea what they’re doing.

Like they’re being lead around by their cocks, rather than their brains.

I’ve seen the outline of Brennan and Otho’s cocks, straining the fabric of their pants.

Those huge dicks are probablybiggerthan their brains.

I bite my lip, specifically thinking about the thing I’d seen straining to escape Brennan’s pants. Thatthing– his cock – could be just the tool to control him.

A storm is brewing.

That’s what he said earlier. What did Brennan mean by that? Somehow, it was like he used that phrase as a justification for kidnapping me – like the ends justified even illegal means.

Perhaps I need to pull back on my plans to escape. I feel like I’m dealing with my problems without understanding the greater context surrounding them.

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