Page 34 of Sawoots Story

His hand clenches into a fist. Just barely, he fights back the rage, forcing his feet to move as he manually slams his fist against the button to open the door and steps out. The doors close behind them and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

My nipples are taut little buds, and I’m soaking wet.

My hand trails to the band of my pants, but I stop myself. They will be back with Theme any time, and if Aurelians came back when I was pleasuring myself imagining them, I’d have no one to blame but myself when they fuck me hard and fast.

“Tea. Tea is what I need,” I say to myself, trying to think of anything other than those three.

I wonder if there’s some sort of female version of the Mating Rage that Aurelians bring out, because I’ve never felt like this before. It’s primal. Uncontrollable.

He turns you into a bitch in heat.

I push that thought down into whatever dark recess it spawned, getting up and running my hand through my hair. My whole body feels electrified.

I walk to the replicator.

The room is spacious and well made, but it hasn’t been used in…well, I wonder if it’severbeen used. I doubt Aelon is the type to host diplomats. I’m not sure how centuries-old technology is going to hold up. Replicators are spotty science at best, and I’ve had my share of disgusting strands of biomaterial that didn’t properly replicate.

There’s a bunch of buttons on the machine. I find the one for hot water, putting a mug under it to test if that at least works. I press it and it takes a few seconds, but finally it spurts out, steaming and hot.

I should eat for my strength, but ever since Kit attacked me, I haven’t been hungry.

It feels weird knowing the man is dead. He was a hateful creature, yes, but he was so alive.

Just like that, he’s gone.

There’s no guarantees in life.

Scratch that—there’s guarantees, and none of them are good. Like with Aurelians. My friend Nami learned the hard way that if you aren’t their mate, you’re nothing to them. Just another little toy in their harems to be played with.

If I let Garrick and his triad claim me, I’d be the first of their harem, but I wouldn’t be the last. They’d just keep bringing in women until they finally find the one who is their Fated Mate. I’d grow old as they stay the same age, until I’m just a cook or a cleaner for them as they fuck hordes of nubile young creatures who flock to them.

The first time they fuck is special.

They don’t know yet if you’re their mate or not.

Every time after is a disappointment. Nami told me that she felt sick after sex, knowing she could never truly satisfy them. But she kept going back. Sometimes when she got drunk she’d tell me about how it felt. Orgasm after orgasm, stretched to the limit by their huge, thick rods as the brutal aliens sated themselves in her.

I shudder at that.

The door hisses behind me.

I panic. My heart seizes, my stomach roiling, and I grab the cup of steaming liquid to throw at the—

It’s Markrin, Tar’ank, and Theme. I breathe out, the panic abating, relief flooding me.

“It’s just us. Relax,” says Markrin.

“Next time, knock,” I spit out bitterly, and regret it instantly. Aurelians don’t like to be told what to do.

If I offended their masculinity, they don’t show it. Maybe these ones are different.

“Can the door be locked by the inside?”

Tar’ank nods. “Yes. Use the AI or the smart-terminals,” he says, and I quickly scan the room, noting screens by the door that leads to the servants’ quarter, one on the table, and another near the windows.

Could the AI system be connected to the rest of the ship? They don’t know how good Theme is with computers. Maybe there could be an opportunity here they haven’t figured out…

I don’t say anything, just scanning Markrin and Tar’ank, wondering if I can trust them. Because if I do make it off this ship alive, I’ll always wonder about them.

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