Page 119 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

I open my palm and discover a tiny shard of Orb-material there – barely the size of my finger-nail.

But it’s not just Orb-material. The black substance rests in its own, tiny hilt.

I lift the tiny weapon and hold it between my two fingers.

I instinctively know how to turn it on.

Activate.

I merelyimaginethe blade rippling into existence, and suddenly it does. Three inches of shimmering, rippling Orb-Blade, burning with black-blue energy that draws my eyes towards it.

It’s hypnotic - I can’tstopstaring at it. This weapon may be small, but I am in awe of the very power of it.

I’ve seen Orb-Weapons in action. I’d watched Marcel decapitate a Toad with his Orb-Sword the first day I’d met him. I know this tiny, undulating blade of energy can cut through virtually anything – anything except the ring I wear. That’s made of the same otherworldly substance – the one that can cut me off from my triad’s thoughts and emotions.

If I could only get that ring off, I could make a plan – conspire with my triad across the universe, and plot our escape. They would be able tofeelwhere I am – and Lord Oblog’s suggestion might not even be as suicidal as it sounds – to Orb-shiftintothis mothership, and then right back out again.

Orb-shifting has been dangerous lately, but if there was ever a reason…

Stop thinking about rescue.

I scold myself.

Thereisno rescue, Jamie. There’s only your own skill.

I deactivate the Orb-Knife with a thought, just like I’d activated it. Like the smattering of the Toad language I’d absorbed, the knowledge comes to me instinctively. The Aurelians know how to use Orb-weapons, and so that knowledge has seeped into my subconscious through the Bond.

From now on, I’ll need this weapon with me at all times. Combined with my Bond-enhanced strength and speed, it makes me formidable. If I got in a fight with a Bullfrog, this little Orb-Knife might be my only chance. Combined with the element of surprise, I might even be able to hurt one of those creatures badly enough to get away from it.

Ha! Maybe I’m a fool to think I’d have a chance against one of those thousand-pound monsters – but I truly don’t believe so. An Orb-Bladeisthe only thing that can cut easily through a Bullfrog’s thick hide, and if I time my thrust…

I remember the knife at my belt that saved me when I first rescued Tessa – the one that had sent her would-be rapist stumbling into the bowels of the transport ship Elnor with blood dripping through his fingers.

That feels like a lifetime ago. I’d frozen up at the last second, and survived only by luck .

Luck won’t save me this time.

I wince – then decide to hide this weapon somewhere no one will find it – no matter what happens. It’s the size of my fingernail, and it fits easily in my most private of places.

It’s a terrifying idea. If I somehow accidentally activated this Orb-Knife, it would be a particularly gruesome way to die – but now, if I’m stripped naked and searched, only averypersistent creature will find what I’ve got hidden inside of me.

The deactivated Orb-Knife is cold inside of me - a constant reminder of the weapon that will be with me wherever I tread about this ship.

With my weapon hidden, I hurry to clean my feet and legs in the shower – then finally leave the bathroom. The moment I do, the weariness hits me like running into a wall.

My weariness exacerbates my loneliness. The Aurelians are like a gaping, empty void inside my mind. I hate that I can’t hear them any longer – tofeelthem. I never realized how lonely it could be – being the only occupant of your own mind.

You might be close to someone – a lover, parent, or child – but you still can’tknowthem.

With the Bond, however, I know the Aurelians as well as they know themselves. I canfeeltheir protective instincts. The three aliens don’t just want to keep me safe. Theyneedto, more than they need to eat or sleep.

I barely know them, yet Iknowthem.

I know them better than I know myself. I canfeeltheir auras – the icy calculation of Quint; whose calculations were thrown off by the addition of a factor he never could have accounted for:

Finding his Fated Mate.

Then, there’s the anger that boils in Lucius – anger that now has the tendril of yellow fear quenching it, because finally, Lucius has something he’s afraid to lose.

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