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But that willnothappen – no matter how much she fights and struggles right now.

My mate says something in her foreign language, her voice lilting and high pitched – so unlike my own. Everything about her fascinates me. She’s so soft against me – so small and vulnerable.

"She is exquisite.”Telepaths Brigg through the bond. We’re a warrior triad, not blood-related but bonded by something far greater; by the violence and blood of battle.

He is my blood-brother. We felt the connection at the young age of one-hundred-and-thirty, and our minds merged when we killed our first Scorp together; during an ambush while we mined the precious metals that Brigg later forged into his treasured chain.

That day, he and I earned our first tattoos and became marked men – no longer just boys within the tribe. I remember it well – seared as indelibly in my memory as the ink is in my skin.

I remember the feeling of when the Scorp venom within the ink first went coursing through my veins. I remember the barely controlled rage and anger that bubbled up beneath the surface of my being.

The price of great strength and the ability to sire children is high. That price is your verymind.

“Our mate is taller than most. She’ll bear us an army of sons – taller even than us!” The voice is that of Haleon, boasting, preferring to articulate his thoughts out loud than telepath them through our bond.

Haleon runs a hand through his mohawk. He wishes deeply thathewas the one carrying our beautiful mate right now. Yet, I dealt the killing blow to the Scorp Queen. I earned the duty to lead us into battle, and the right to carry our well-deserved reward.

Besides, such thinking is so…Human.

We areone, Haleon, Brigg and I. One soul in three warrior’s bodies. And, soon, we’ll have our reward to share.

The minute – no, thesecondI have this woman in the safety of our caves, I’m going to make her mindmeltfrom pleasure. I’m going to make her moans echo throughout the cave. I’ll teach her my name, and she’ll scream it out in ecstasy time and time again.

The lust of Brigg and Haleon pours through the bond. It mirrors mine. This female may be tall for a human woman, but she’ll still be tiny compared to us – when our three bodies are ravishing her.

My mate speaks again in my ear – her voice like music, even though I can hear the complaints in her words. I know she’s complaining, despite not understanding her language. About what, though… That’s another question.

We’ll have to negotiate with our tribe for use of the amulet we share – the one which allows us to understand those who do not speak our tongue. The owner of the amulet, Reep, will drive a hard bargain, but it is essential that our mate understands us if we want to keep her. There is always the thin tendril of worry in the background of my mind that my mate will reject us.

Yet, even if her words are meaningless, I could never grow tired of her feminine, lilting voice. I picture her with her belly swollen and her breasts full of milk – plump with my seed and siring my heirs.

That is her destiny – whether she knows it or not.

Aubrey eventually stops hitting her open palms against my back.Good. She has accepted the inevitability of her situation.

She will find joy in being our mate, and I will give her everything I have to ensure that.

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3

Aubrey

“Let me down you muscled oaf!”

Did I seriously just call him an oaf? That’s the word I picked? I’ve been pulled into a strange new place, not 18thcentury England.

I’m yelling, but the leader of these three towering creatures – who has me slung over his huge shoulder like a sack of potatoes – just grunts and readjusts me.

The heat of this place hits me as he carries me through this… Thisjungle?

Yes, I’m near a jungle, or at least it feels like one. The same one I saw and smelt on the other side of that portal; back in the alleyway, in New York. Though from the glances downwards I can see lush plains and verdant grass, the smells are amazonian.

No wonder I’m hot. I’m dressed for early New York winter – and now we’re ontheirside of the portal, it suddenly makes sense why these three, huge men are wearing tight clothes that are a cross between shorts and a loincloth; fashioned out of animal skin.

“Put me down!” I demand again, and realize the futility of it.

I’m crazy, remember? And I can’t argue with myself.