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He’s like ice. There’s no emotion coming from him. I can now see why Hadrian and Kitos follow Daccia as their leader. When it comes to it, he’s as emotionless as the marble his magnificent body appears to be carved from.

By contrast, Hadrian is a roaring ball of pent-up violence.

Kitos is stressed – a constant, anxious energy like a spring wound up too tightly.

Daccia, always, is like a glacier. If someone start firing at us right now, I can tell he’d keep his aura completely and utterly emotionless – ready to deal with the threat.

That’s whoIwant to be. That’s who Ineedto be.

My mind is all screwed up. Iwantto trust them. I wish I could. I want to believe it’s not just the promise of their natural-born, warrior sons that makes these three magnificent Aurelians want to keep me safe and protected...

...but it’simpossibleto convince myself. The Aurelian species is just too wound up in their obsession with the Bond – of finding their one true mate. They’re so obsessively focused that they can’t –won’t– do anything except force me onto an impossible pedestal – rejoicing in me as a savior of their species.

And, once they get me alone, those three gorgeous bastards will turn me into a breeding slave – rutted, and seeded, and forced to bear them son, after sin, after son.

Queen Jasmine has been ruling for over two-hundred years – and from what I’ve seen, she’s born her triad over two-dozen strong, powerful sons. Half the Aurelian population views her as a puppet breeding slave to her triad… and the other half think of her as a manipulative harpy – therealpower behind the throne – and they can’t bear the idea of being ruled by a woman.

I shake my head, dragging myself from my gloomy thought. Instead, I look out of the window of the shuttle as we arrive.

I see The Rhino below us. The ten-story structure is just like it was in the hologram specifications. I remember exactly where the exits are – and visually identify each one I can, even as I hope it won’t come down to using any of them.

Daccia ordered me to run if trouble occurred – to take that service exit, deep underground. He said to go without them – but I have a feeling I wouldn’t need to. I’ve never had or needed a man to protect me before - but it sure as hell feels good to have these three Aurelians with me now, knowing through the Bond that they’d fight to their deaths to protect me.

Daccia pilots through open airlock on the top floor of The Rhino. The shuttle touches down so softly, I barely even notice our landing. Daccia truly is a masterful pilot – better even than the AI that would normally pilot the shuttle.

Now we’re landed, the doors open.

This tenth-story landing pad has a glass dome above us, so arrivals to the club can look out over the smog-clouded sky. I doubt many of the visitors stop to take in the view, however. The Rhino, from what the records could tell us, is primarily a place for men to buy sex. I know that kind of man well. Too well. I also know that men like that also like to gamble, drink, and partake in all sorts of illegal substances – and the Rhino caters to all of those tastes.

A short, greasy man with slicked-back hair greets us. He’s wearing four rings on his right hand, but none on his left. The right-hand rings are thick, strong bands of metal with raised designs and ridges on them.

That’s his ‘slapping hand’. Obbit had a similar technique for disciplining the girls as Spur’s joint.

I’d like to take that man’s ‘slapping’ hand from him before he leaves – rings still on those fat little fingers.

“Eyes down,” whispers Kitos as we disembark. I realize I’ve been staring – practically burning holes into the sleaze-ball approaching us. I don’t have the same, slim goggles hiding my gaze that the Aurelians are wearing. Instead, I avert my gaze, hating that in the role of a slave girl, I’m not supposed to even make eye-contact without the permission of my ‘master’.

“Aurelians,” the greasy man bows. “Welcome! Welcome to the Rhino. You may call me Giovanni. I heard you were coming here tonight. Mr. Torelli, the owner, will be happy to welcome you personally. He doesn’t see many ofhis kindthis far out.”

My head suddenly snaps upwards – until I remember to force my gaze back down…

…but I felt my astonishment mirrored by the auras of Kitos and Hadrian.

Daccia’s aura, as always, remains ice.

His own kind!

That means the owner of The Rhino, Mr. Torelli, is an Aurelian!

As an Aurelian – clearly more travelled and experienced than the humans of this world – couldheknow where my sister is?

But before we can think about that, Giovanni reaches out his hands.

“One more small thing, before we enter the premises…”

The greasy-haired man shrugs apologetically – the unspoken statement of ‘I don’t make the rules.’

“…I’ll be needing to take those weapons from you.”