Page 124 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

My Aurelians – my beautiful, powerful warriors. They’re alive!

They’re alive, they’re safe, and they’re well. They’re each dressed in the light combat armor I’d first encountered them wearing, and I run into their arms with glee.

The Aurelians turn and race to me with equal enthusiasm, ignoring Lord Oblog on his throne.

I leap into Marcel’s arms first, and I don’t care if Oblog laughs at us for the show of affection we give each other – affection that Oblog and his ilk must view as weakness.

It’s not weakness, though – it’s the greatest source of strength in the universe. Marcel holds me tightly in his massive arms, crushing me to his huge chest.

Even surrounded by danger, I’m suddenly safe. His thick, armored chest is a foundation to build a life on – his muscled body as certain as a rock and as powerful as the ocean. His intense, green eyes stare at me, looking for any hint that I’ve been hurt. The spark in his eyes is more comforting to me than the empty grey of a regular Aurelian’s eyes could ever be.

I gave them that color.

Even with the Bond-Disruptor on my finger – cutting me off from their auras and emotions – I can still sense the eternal link between us.

Marcel is so fucking massive. Our Bonding has made the already huge alien warrior grow even bigger, and it’s like being in the arms of a Titan when he squeezes me.

“That is enough!”

Lord Oblog’s cold words cut through the moment. Marcel sets me down. Lucius and Quint both gently touch me, their hands finding my skin. They’re searching for any sign of injury or bruise, but also basking in my touch.

Marcel turns to the Toad Lord as he looms above us on his throne.

“We did what you demanded. Deactivate the ring.”

He’s hoarse. Even without the Bond, I can sense that he’s been dreaming of getting that Bond-Disruptor off me from the moment he left – so he can feel my comforting aura, just as I ache for the comfort of his.

Marcel looks healthy and unharmed, at least – but the weeks’ worth of stubble and the gauntness in his cheeks makes me nervous. It’s not enough toseethat the three Aurelians are okay. I need tofeelit.

Oblog peers down at us imperiously.

“Yes, you did what I told you to – but first, we have business.”

Tessa is promoted forward.

“I promised your woman I would let the other female go.”

A sinister smile stretches across Oblog’s blubbery lips.

“I am a man of my word. There is a shuttle in the hanger bay waiting to take her anywhere she wishes.”

I turn. For the first time since we came aboard this monstrosity, Tessa has hope in her eyes.

But that shuttle isn’t making it to X12. I know it.

If Tessa gets on board, she’s fucking dead. She’s a loose end – one that’s going to be tied up like all the rest of them.

In a noose.

I lean into Marcel – wishing we still had the ability to telepath.

“Take her there,” I hiss. “Escort her there yourself.”

Marcel doesn’t question my demand. For a second, I’d been worried that the brunt, brutal Aurelians wouldn’t listen to me. After all, they’ve lived hundreds of years longer than me – and their species have viewed human females as little more than sex toys ever since they were the equivalent of teenagers.

But there’s no question – Marcel respects me, and concedes to my demand.

“We will escort her ourselves,” the leader of the Aurelians growls, turning to Oblog. “Take her to our Reaver, instead.”

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