Page 65 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

Marcel spits out a word in the Toad language – one the AI doesn’t need to translate – and the big doors open.

On the other side is a horror – an abomination.

It’s a Bullfrog, nearly as big as the one I left adorned with that hideous scar. The creature is a huge mass of warty, glistening power. Steam lifts from his gleaming hide as the dry heat of the Aurelian’s rooms burns away his natural layer of slimy moisture.

The moment Tessa sees the beast framed in the doorway, she pulls back with a barely-stifled gasp. Her eyes don’t return to the crack in the doorway. She can’t bear to look at that hideous creature.

After she was nearly sold to one of them, I can hardly blame her. Even without that hanging over your head, it’s hard enough to even look at them. It’s not a Bullfrog’s ugliness that scares me. It’s their sheer size. Toads are cunning and cowardly, using deceit to achieve their aims. Bullfrogs, on the other hand, have all those Machiavellian tendencies, in addition to brutal strength toforceothers to give them what they want.

The Bullfrog in the doorway rises until he fills the entire space.

“Lord Oblog, Finger of King, commands you to Great Hall!”

Spittle leaves the Bullfrog’s huge mouth as he gurgles out the order in barely-comprehensible Common speech – his yellow, uneven teeth as crooked as tombstones.

I gulp.

I’m not on a Toad mothership – or, rather, justanyToad mothership. I’m on the vessel of one of the ten most powerful Toads in their confederacy – the ‘Fingers’ who rule beneath only the King himself.

I clamp my mouth shut before a sound can escape my lips. This is bad.Reallybad.

At the same time, I feel a tug at my dress. I glance to see Tessa’s big eyes staring up at me.

“Look,” she hisses. She pulls me away from the barely-cracked door to the viewport.

Through it, the emptiness of space stretches out into infinity – utterly indifferent to my plight.

Only,wait…

…it’snotempty.

A thin, green ship slides through the dark void, shearing towards this Mothership like a dagger. The vessel is surrounded on all sides by Toad attack ships – swarming protectively like flies around a big pile of dung.

I pull myself away from the viewing port, rushing back to the door to peek through the crack once again. More than ever before, every cell in my body is screaming that Ineedto get off this ship.

Outside, Marcel is staring down the looming Bullfrog. Despite the creature in the doorway being one of the few in the universe who match an Aurelian’s size or strength, Marcel doesn’t so much as flinch.

“We will come immediately,” he says coolly – as if responding to an invitation to tea.

The Bullfrog nods, and then remains lingering in the doorway. His bulbous eyes scan the room – looking endlessly around, as if searching for something.

Forus.

I know it.

When he eventually spots nothing to satisfy his curiosity, the lumbering Bullfrog just grunts.

“Bring the women! The slaves! Youmust!”

Marcel’s hand drops casually toward the hilt of his Orb-Blade, hanging at his waist.

“The women areourproperty. They’ll go wherewewant them to go.”

The Bullfrog snorts, and then looks both left and right – sizing up the two Aurelians stationed on either side of the doorway. Lucius and Quint are ready to rip him apart. The Bullfrog might be big, but he’s still no match for all three of the Aurelians – especially with their Orb-Blades drawn and activated.

Part of me wants to see it. The sliver of vengeance in my heart would like nothing more than to watch the Aurelians cut this Bullfrog down.

But the rational part of my brain knows that if they did, every Bullfrog and Toad on this vessel would turn their murderous attention to us; and when the Aurelians were cut to ribbons, Tessa and I would only be able to pray we shared their fate – lest an even more grim outcome awaited us, back on the slave block or a Bullfrog’s aquarium.

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