Page 23 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

Now I can see them closer up, I observe that the leader of the triad – Marcel – stands perhaps a couple inches taller than the other two members of his triad; which puts him at well over seven-feet-tall.

As he approaches me, I feel increasingly smaller and more helpless – more so than even the handcuffs and chains had originally made me feel when I’d awoken on this terrifying ship.

I dare to gaze up at him. Marcel has thick, black brows that contrast sharply against the pure white of his marble skin. His anvil-square jaw is lined with five-o’clock shadow; but even that can’t obscure a jawline so sharp you could cut yourself on it.

There are no scars on Marcel’s face – which are often worn with pride by Aurelians who’ve completed their hundred years of service to the Empire. This means Marcel successfully avoided the claws of Scorp, the axes of Bullfrogs, and the blasters of humans for an entire century of combat.

Behind him stand the other two near-perfect creatures. The one directly behind Marcel has blonde hair and hollow cheeks – which give him a haunted, beautiful visage. This Aurelian stares intently at the leader of the Toads – utterly ignoring the women before him.

I sense the warrior is checking for any sign of resistance – any clue that the Toad intends to try and earn back his dignity by confronting Marcel. I doubt it – the leader of the Aurelians was ruthlessly efficient in establishing dominance.

The third Aurelian is just as handsome as the other two, but in an equally unique way. He has full lips and noble features. If the warrior grew out his buzzed, brown hair, he’d resemble a pretty-boy model or actor; only with that marble-white skin contrasting sharply against his thick brown brows, high cheekbones, and that model-hot face.

This one, though – his eyes have a strange spark to them; so unlike the usually dead, blank stare of these inscrutable aliens.

Handsome faces and perfect, muscular bodies. They’re the stuff of women’s dreams – except I know the truth. These creatures aren’t the stuff of dreams, but nightmares.

Neither those gorgeous features, the radiant sensuality, or the intenseness of those warrior’s slate-grey gaze can hide the truth about intentions. These aren’t Aurelians loyal to the Empire – honorable, brave, and fighting against slavery. Not these three.

This triad have gone Rogue – part of a growing movement of Aurelians who are choosing to spurn the laws of the Empire and return to the Old Ways.

The ways ofclaimingwomen – taking captives and prisoners in their search for their Fated Mate, instead of waiting for eager women to volunteer to join their triads.

Aurelians go Rogue only because they enjoybreakinga woman. To them, it’s not just about the fucking – it’s about themind-fucking. They get off on making a helpless, terrified woman submit to them; to break her until she embraces her fate as the property of three, brutal warriors. It’s something they enjoy almost as much as sinking their thick cocks inside her and emptying their straining balls.

Power. Dominance. Aurelians are legendary for their obsession with submissive women. Even in the harems of the Aurelian Empire, the warriors are infamous for their desire to spank the women who flock to their estates; turning them into submissive little toys who’ll eagerly serve their every whim.

Rogue Aurelians take that a step further. Their love is for the thrill of breaking a woman in, as if she’s a wild horse – taming her, and stripping the fire and rebellion from her through brutal punishment and relentless, dominant sex.

I shudder as Marcel stops in front of me – me, specifically. His eyes flicker up and down my exposed body, lingering on my bare breasts.

His tongue wets those sensuous lips.

I’m filled with the urge to cover myself up – but my hands are chained, and I don’t want this infuriatingly gorgeous creature to know how deeply his intense gaze affects me.

I know if he wanted to, Marcel could reach out and touch me – and there’d be nothing I could do to stop him.

Hell, he could press me up against the walls in this very hallway – and fuck me brutally while my hands were still cuffed, and my feet were still ankle-deep in fetid water.

Marcel breathes in deeply. As his nostrils stretch open, I see his eyesrollbackward; as if he’d just taken a hit of some potent narcotic.

A whimper escapes my mouth as I realize he’ssmellingme – literally tasting my scent, singling it out amid all the other smells swilling around this disgusting vessel.

His huge tongue licks his lips again – and the Aurelian standing behind Marcel reacts by reaching out his big hand and laying it on Marcel’s huge shoulder – as if trying to snap him back to reality.

Marcel shakes his head, waking from his trance – and then he reaches out with his huge hand and gently places it beneath my chin.

The moment his skin touches mine, it’s as if electric shocks are being sent crackling through me; just as powerful as those of the Toad’s electro-rod.

I shiver as Marcel gently nudges my chin upward - forcing my eyes to meet his slate-grey gaze.

Those inscrutable, alien eyes pierce me. They’re brilliant – starving, and intense, and filled with naked desire; as if he’s fighting to control himself.

Those brilliant eyes paralyze me. I can’t move in his gaze. I’m like prey, helpless in the gaze of a predator. He has me frozen – as if his species has the unspoken ability to hold you frozen with just a glance.

“You’re a perfect little creature, aren’t you?”

The low rumble of Marcel’s voice resonates through me. I can barely meet his gaze. His skin is hot against mine, and I feel powerless in his dominant presence.

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