Page 33 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

I squint my eyes to spot who the voice emerged from – but there’s no one there.

The Bullfrog, however, freezes instantly. He looked up, and when I follow the focus of his bulbous eyes, I spot a speaker in the roof from which the voice emerged.

It must be the Captain of this mothership – warning the Bullfrog not to start trouble with other paying customers.

If so, that means there must be surveillance scanners all over this ship – including cameras like the one that caught the Bullfrog’s tantrum. That means even if I could escape – perhaps make a break for it when they try to hand me to whoever placed the winning bid – I’d still have to evade heavy surveillance to get off the ship.

In the auction room, angry words continue to blast out of the sound system. They’re spoken in the guttural language of the Toads, with authority that freezes the Bullfrog in his tracks. The raging language is so guttural that I half-expect spittle to fly from the speakers the same way it does from a Toad’s lips when they’re enraged.

Whoever is ranting must be important – the man in charge of the entire Toad mothership, and with an eagle-eyed view of everything that goes on within her.

I watch through the viewing screen as the Bullfrog stands there, mortified. His only movement is the twitching of his thick, glistening neck. The veins along it are bulging with heated fury.

Then, slowly, the Bullfrog turns towards the glass – and stares atmeas I tread water in the tank.

They aren’t the eyes of a human, or Aurelian. They’re the eyes of an animal – and they remind me that no animal knows hate like a Bullfrog.

This Bullfrog’s only lust is for revenge. I was the scrappy human girl who made him feel powerless when I rescued two slaves from his grasp. Ever since, whenever he’s looked at that scar I left him with, it’s been a reminder of his humiliation.

Human, Toad, or Aurelian, I know his type of character. There are some men who can’t abide the feeling of powerlessness – especially when it comes at the hand of a woman.

I glance behind him. Those three Aurelians are still sitting there, unmoving – but I can read their amusement at the Bullfrog’s humiliation – even on their impassive, emotionless white faces.

With a slobbering snarl, the Bullfrog reluctantly deactivates his Orb-Axe and lumbers out of the auction room with the gait of an executioner. I shiver in the water – but I’m not cold.

I just saw the look of impotent rage in that Bullfrog’s eyes. He saw me – the one he wanted to make suffer for his indignity – and was then denied the right to claim me. More than that, the Bullfrog blamesmefor his humiliation in front of those three Aurelians – stoking the fire of his fury even hotter. It burns uncontrollably now, and nothing will extinguish the fire’s hunger for revenge – not until he has me.

But he doesn’t have me – and now, it’s time to learn who will.

I turn my attention back to the auction room. The Aurelian’s extravagant bid has made the ante too rich for the blood of the other buyers. There’s no higher bid, and as the gavel cracks and declares the Aurelians the winners, the rest of the Bullfrogs turn their attention to whichever poor soul will be next up for auction.

I tread water, my heart racing. This is it – I’ve been sold.

The two Toads standing at the edge of the pool dive in with an eerie, inhuman grace. I take a deep breath, suddenly realizing what comes next.

The water shifts as the Toads swirl gracefully around me. It’s almost beautiful – and so incongruent to their ungainly, lumbering gait on solid ground. It’s as if they’re born for the water.

The two Toads curl their webbed fingers around my ankles and grab me – pulling me below the surface as if I’m a fish they’d caught for the supper table.

My lungs burn and my ears pop as I’m dragged swiftly downward. The Toads kick their powerful legs, their webbed feet stretched like flippers. My descent seems effortless to them – and they pull me through the underwater tunnel and through the shimmering air shield at the end of it.

I’m pulled through – and gravity takes effect, dumping me on the cold ground. I double over, gasping and hacking.

I’m dripping wet – and I don’t think I’ll be drying off any time soon. The sticky humidity hits me like a wet slap, and it’s oppressive after the cool, clear water of the viewing tank. The wetness seems to cling to you.

Again, I think back to the shaved heads of the three Aurelians. They forsake fashion for function, and trimmed their thick hair so as not to inconvenience them on board this humid mothership.

I wish I could shave my head the same way – but it’s too late for me to think about that now. I’ve been sold. My new owners will decide such things for me in the future.

The two Toad guards drag me up the stairs. I struggle to yank myself free of their slimy grip.

“I can walk!” I splutter, breathing in desperate lungfuls of air. After holding my breath for so long, I’m now struggling to drag enough oxygen from this humid, steamy atmosphere.

The Toads ignore my protest, and continue to drag me up the stairs. There, we emerge into the well-appointed auction chamber.

The three Aurelians are waiting for me there.

I gasp, suddenly in awe of these three, towering creatures. They look like the ancient statues of the Greek Gods brought to life – like angels, even though I know they have the hearts of devils.

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