Page 85 of Taken By the Aurelian Warriors

Even with my poor aim, I know I could raise this pistol and fire before the two of them could react – and probably hitsomething.

Do they really think my aim is so bad that I’d miss completely?

I don’t understand it. I just can’t believe the amount of trust that my so-called kidnappers are placing in me.

We reach the shoulder-height wall at the edge of the clearing.

Of course, it’s onlymyshoulder-height. For the Aurelians, it doesn’t even reach their waists.

Lazar and Otho busy themselves – grabbing chunks of rusted, discarded metal and large rocks that they balance on top of the old wall. Then, only a makeshift shooting gallery has been erected, Lazar strides over to me, a faint smile on his face.

I gaze up at him. There’s pride in his eyes – eagerness.

I’m his prisoner, and yet this towering Aurelian wants to teach me how to shoot.

No, more than that – he wants to teach me how to take care of myself.

It’s something I need to learn how to do. After all, I grew up behind walls. For most of my life, I’ve been hidden away from the horrors of the world by my father in his huge, towering estate.

Instead of learning how to take care of myself, I’ve learned how to hide – hiding behind Gerard, my father, and even behind those faceless, emotionless Sentinels.

When it came to arealkidnapping – when it finally came time for me to face everything my father had tried to protect me from – his years of sheltering me backfired.

Everything I knew was useless. Everything he’d done to protect me had ended up making me so much more vulnerable – so much less prepared for what I might face out in the dark, dangerous universe.

Lazar, in complete contrast to my father, wants me to learn how to take care ofmyself.

He’s protective of me, but in the way that’s useful – that’s real.

He’s protecting me by making sure I’m not reliant on him – that the strongest ally I’ll ever have isme.

As we stand before the wall, Lazar looks down at me and murmurs:

“Now, you’re going to take your time with your shots this time. You’re going to focus on your target andvisualizehow the Orb-Beam fires. You’re going to picture the reality, and then you’re going to activate the weapon andmakeit the reality.”

“You aim with your mind,” Otho says quietly, behind his battle-brother. “Not your eye.”

Then, Otho lumbers to my right side. I find myself flanked by these two, huge shadows. I’ve never felt so protected before – as if I have nothing to fear in this universe except for what might happen if any of us lose control of ourselves.

That’s the irony, of course. Ishouldbe trembling to be surrounded by these towering, alien warriors. Ishouldfeel vulnerable – knowing they could turn on me at any time – scoop me up in those huge, muscular arms of theirs and do whatever they wanted to me…

Gods, what a thought!

But, in reality, I feel safe – knowing that nothing other than they could hurt me out here; since they are both my captorsandmy protectors. They might have kidnapped me, and punished me…

…but they’re on my side. They’re herewithme.Forme.

With that reassurance bringing steadiness to my breath, I bring the gun up to my eye – focusing down the smooth, black barrel at the targets ahead; and then focusing on the vision of each of those chunks of metal and scrap being obliterated.

“Breathe in.”

Lazar’s voice is hypnotic. I can’t tell if I’m hearing him, orfeelinghim.

“Hold that breath… Focus – and now, breatheout.Activate.”

I let the breath leave my chest, and, as I do, all external thoughts disappear. Instead, I imagine the first three of those pieces of metal and rock exploding in front of me...

…the gun responds instantly with three bursts of black-blue Orb-Blast.

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