Page 53 of Taken By the Aurelian Warriors

He shakes his head. “We have better tech than humans.” He snorts. “Mosthumans.”

I look down and watch as the searing beam seals my cut – the sliced flesh merging together. Within seconds, there’s no trace of a scar. It’s as though my escape attempt never happened.

However, I don’t think Brennan is going to see things that way.

The towering Aurelian promised me a punishment if I tried to escape. He might be putting on a kind and protective front now – but I’m still scared about how and when he’ll make good on that promise.

Brennan finally releases his hand from my shoulder. As he kneels there, he opens a sachet from the black medical case – pulling out a small, wet cloth that he cleans the rest of my leg with.

As he moves on from my now-healed thigh, he spots where I scraped my leg clambering out of the narrow window.

“That cut on your knee isn’t bad – but do you want a shot of the sealant gun?”

I nod. “It’s going to scar if I don’t, right?”

The Aurelian shrugs. “Maybe – but a scar is a trophy of a battle survived.”

“My father won’t see it that way,” I hiss. “He’ll look at the scar and remember how he couldn’t protect me – fromyou.”

Brennan ignores that barb – instead pulling out the sealant gun and zapping my knee. Within seconds, and completely painlessly, it’s as good as new.

Satisfied, Brennan snaps the kit shut and stands up, towering over me.

For a second, our eyes meet – and then he turns, walking to the duffel bag to stow it with the others.

When he returns, the kind, protective Brennan is gone.

He’s taken care of my injuries. Now, it’s time for him to be the tough captor – the one who’ll brook no insolence.

“Get up,” Brennan demands. “Show me how well you can walk.”

He barks out the command – as if he’s a drill sergeant.

I pull myself to my feet. My leg is completely healed – and when I walk forward, I feel nothing.

Nothing, except exposed.

I cover the rip in my slip, where that rusty barb tore it open.

I don’t want to show too much flesh while this marble-skinned alien has his blood up from battle. He might find it even more difficult to control his urges.

Controlling himself is probably why Brennan’s still got that hard look on his face – but I hope some of the tenderness he showed me minutes earlier is still there.

“What were those gunshots?” I demand. “Who was that man I saw Otho dragging away?”

The one without an arm, no less.

The truth is, I know who they were – but asking is the first thing I can think of to say. I need to keep Brennan talking – to establish a rapport, and aid any potential escape.

The men who’d fired at us were rogues or cutthroats – fools who’d thought they’d stumbled on an easy mark out here in the slums. They must have seen the ship fly in – that rented shuttle – but they can’t have possibly imagined that it would contain three deadly Aurelian warriors.

Brennan ignores my question. Instead, he demands:

“Jump up and down –now.”

I clench my fist at his cold tone, but I obey. I jump up, holding my slip down to cover what I can of my bare legs.

Apparently, Brennan is happy with his work, Only when I stop jumping does he allow a flash of anger on his face.

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