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From this height I can at least talk to them eye to eye. They don’t come closer, and when I breathe in, I almost throw up.

There’s a hint of Kit’s revolting, rotten smell. “I…I can’t be here,” I say, ashamed at how weak I sound.

The three Aurelians glance at each other. They must be able to speak telepathically. That rumor about the species is clearly true, because after a few seconds of conferring, Garrick nods. “We will take you to the diplomat’s chambers. They have security measures. No one will be able to come in without your consent. Prisoner or not, I won’t let you be in danger.”

I hope down from the bed. “Thanks…but I’m not sure if walls are going to help against…those.” I look at the hilt of Garrick’s Orb-Blade.

Orbs scare me. There’s somethingwrongabout them. I’ve read my histories about the Galactic War between the Toads and the Aurelians that nearly snuffed out all sentient life. There’s no mention of it, but I wonder if somehow the Orbs were responsible for it. As if they feed off violence and bloodshed.

Maybe my thoughts are just dark because of Kit.

I follow Garrick and his men down the hallways until we get to a set of heavy doors. Garrick scans his smartwatch, and the doors hiss open.

The diplomat’s room looks like it hasn’t been used in decades. No, scratch that. Centuries. There’s a layer of dust over everything, but I’m not going to complain. There’s a big set of double windows that stare out in the vastness of space, giving a view of the huge fertile planet of Tarrion and the moon that we used for our slingshot maneuver to escape the Toads. For a second, I think this room is on the outside of the ship, but it makes more sense that it’s a holofeed of the outside. It’s not like Aelon to have a warship with a hole cut in his hull just to give diplomats a view.

Inside the room there’s a huge, soft-looking bed that beckons to me. I had a nap earlier, but I’ve lost all sense of time on the warship and I just feel exhausted. My head aches from a lack of caffeine, but at least my wrist isn’t bothering me anymore. Whatever Markrin did to me, it worked wonders.

There’s an old-school replicator and a little kitchenet, with cupboards made of faux wood. The room feels out of place on Aelon’s warship.

Theme’s a nerd about many things, including ship layouts. Maybe I can ask him if we’re near the outside of the ship and the windows are real. I’d rather have layers of armor between me and the Toads when they come back with las-cannons and missile fire.

There’s a little table with white dishes and a teapot. That’s enough for me. If there’s some powdered food somewhere in the cupboards, I can use this room to refuel and get my bearings.

I step inside and hop into the bed. It bounces satisfyingly, but when I look over at the aliens I regret it instantly—because I just realized the bed is big enough for all four of us…if wesqueezein.

The way they’re looking at me, I know they’re thinking it too.

Gods.

How good would it feel to surrender. To see their bodies under their armor, slabs of muscle and abs and…

Fuck. Don’t think about that.

If I think about it, they’re going to smell it on. They’re going to know just how desperately I crave for them to snap.

Garrick clears his throat. “Is this acceptable?”

His question takes me off guard. I am still a prisoner, after all. He’s supposed to be my jailor, not my host.

“This is fine. Thank you.”

They pause at the doorway. I don’t like it open. I get the awful vision of another triad of Aurelians ambushing them from behind, running them through with Orb-Blades before they can react.

“Can you come in? I get nervous with the door open…” For some reason, I don’t mind showing a little vulnerability to the Aurelians. It feels strange. I’ve always been icy cold with men, never letting them see the real me.

Garrick and his triad make me lower my guard.

They hesitate for a second, then step in. “AI, close doors,” rumbles Tar’ank. His voice is deeper than the others. I feel it more than hear it, and as I lay back in the bed, I can’t help but imagine him rumbling dirty words into my ear. I suppress a shudder, forcing the filthy thoughts down.

“Tell me. Why do you three work for Aelon? You seem like the only honorable triad on the ship.”

Garrick crosses his arms. “Aelon has his own sense of honor. You saw he meted out—” He clears his throat, stopping the sentence when he sees the expression on my face. I want to think aboutanythingexcept Kit right now. “We work for him for money. I don’t know if you follow politics, but even in Wild Space you must feel it.”

I nod. “I do. Something’s brewing. More and more human planets striking off from the Aurelians and declaring Independence. More and more Aurelians joining the Old Ways.”

The Old Ways.

Back when Aurelianstookhuman woman as their own. Back when they broke them in, until they were nothing more than pleasure slaves for the dominant species.