Page 58 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

But was he watching me sleep? What the fuck?

I look up at him expectantly, waiting for his word. Marcel’s silhouette is a huge, hulking shadow in the dim light. He stands like a fucking gargoyle – right down to those slate-grey eyes, which stubbornly betray nothing.

My shock turns to irritation. I don’t have time for this. I need a drink.

Ignoring the looming figure, I stumble to the bathroom, still groggy from the hours of sleep. Marcel doesn’t even move an eyebrow as I pass him. In fact, I wonder if Aurelians can sleep with their eyes open – because that’s what it looks like right now. Marcel’s eyes just stare out blankly – almost as inanimate as those of the gargoyle he so resembles.

I close the bathroom door behind me and the lights flicker on automatically. I pad across to the sink and splash cold water on my face. Nothing has ever been so refreshing.

As wakefulness returns, I look around – and find that this bathroom is an identical copy of the other one. Toads obviously don’t have the same view of interior design as humans or Aurelians do, so they merely copy what they think looks right, and then copy the same design over and over as and when it’s needed.

Still, this is infinitely preferable to being chained in ankle-deep filth, as I had been when I’d first awoken on board this Toad mothership.

I try the dispensers behind the sink one-by-one – until one dispenses a minty substance that I rinse my mouth out with. Then, I splash more water on my face and drink deep, refreshing mouthfuls of the clean, crisp tap water – replenishing myself.

As my body gratefully accepts the cool refreshment, I try to take stock of my situation.

I look monstrous. My hair is mussed up and tangled, and my body and face are glistening in sweat as if I’d just run a marathon. The only improvement in my appearance is the size of the goose egg-sized lump on my head. I notice it’s been mysteriously covered up with a clingy, sticky substance. I peel the covering off, wrinkling my nose as it tears painlessly away like a layer of dead skin.

Dropping the offending item in the trash, I wash the site of my injury and find that while my head is still tender, whatever substance had been covering my injury worked wonders. It’s significantly healed my painful bump in just hours.

Peeling my dress off, I next take a quick, ice-cold shower. That snaps me instantly back into alertness, and I’m shivering as I pull the pleasure dress back on over my head.

Not that I had any other items to wear, but I’m pleased to discover that the pleasure dress doesn’t retain any lingering scent from my sweat-soaked slumber. It’s almost as if the thin, squirming tendrils of the fabric cleaned themselves – similar to the way a cat licks its glossy fur clean.

Feeling fresher – and definitely looking somewhat more human – I finally leave the bathroom.

The first thing I notice is that Marcel is gone.

Did I just imagine him standing there, in my half-dazed state?

“Lights off,” I whisper, crossing the room toward the door. I let it slide shut behind me to let Tessa rest. Maybe in her dreams she’ll find an escape from this situation. Gods know my own dreams rarely give me rest.

My mind had been blank as I’d showered. I feel like I’ve run out of options – but unless I can figure out why these Aurelians are on this Toad mothership in the first place, I won’t know for sure how to convince them to take Tessa and I far, far away from it.

Some part of me still hopes I can make it to X12 one day, and start the new life I’d originally had planned.

I rub my head, right where I should still have a big, aching bump. As I do, I take stock of the living room. Marcel is there – leaning against the kitchen counter with the same stony expression. Lucius is splayed across the couch, while the third Aurelian sits on a chair, notdoinganything.

He just stares forward – his eyes dark and glassy.

That last Aurelian unsettles me – even if heisthe reason Lucius was pulled from the mating frenzy I’d coaxed him into, during my moment of weakness.

I narrow my eyes at Marcel, and murmur accusingly:

“Were you watching me sleep?”

He nods, unabashed. He’s clearly got no shame.

“Yes. You had a head injury. You needed to be monitored.”

I touch my head, where the sticky substance had covered my wound.

I shudder as I imagine this looming warrior creeping into the bedroom I shared with Tessa, and gently placing the dressing on my head. He must have moved as stealthily as a panther not to have woken me.

It’s difficult to imagine – someone so big and huge, standing over me as I slept. He’d been watching me while I was at my most vulnerable.

It frightens me. I’ve seen how close these three have come to their breaking point – to succumbing to the Aurelian mating frenzy. What if it had overwhelmed Marcel while I was asleep? How close had I come to waking up with him pressing me down against the bed? To those huge hands ripping the pleasure dress from my body? Forcing that huge…

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