Page 4

If these are Rogue Aurelians, then we’ll be used like toys. They’d kill or enslave the men.

Then they’ll fight over the rights to claim us. We’ll be thrown into a triad’s harem. I’ll be trapped between three huge, muscled warriors as they let loose their anger and need on me. They’ll breed me over and over. Rogue Aurelians punish their concubines brutally, spanking them for the smallest offence.

How long would it take to break down everything that makes me, me?

How long until I’d just be another submissive little toy for their use?

And that’s not even the greatest horror.

If you’re Bonded to a triad…

There’s only one woman in the universe who can be Bonded to each triad of alien warriors. It’s the only way for them to naturally procreate.

If that happens? You’re not just a toy. You’re a breeding sow. They view it as their duty to replenish their dying species. And if what I’ve heard about the Bond is true…it changes you. It makes your darkest needs more powerful, your darkest wishes so strong you can lose yourself to it.

I’d rather die. No one will take my autonomy from me. I’ve made my life in the free expanse of Wild Space, beyond the laws of the Human Alliance or the Aurelian Empire.

If they’re Rogues?

I’m going down fighting.

Tasha’s breathing quickly. Whatever she’s thinking about, she’s stressed to the breaking point. I give her another squeeze on the shoulders to snap her back into reality.

“So, you think they’re Rogue?” She’s got trepidation in her voice. She’s scared of my answer.

“There’s a thin line between Independent and Rogue,” I reply.

That line is whether they fight off their base instincts to claim and take women for their own, or if they embrace it as their right as the strongest, most powerful species in existence. Independent Aurelians are in a grey zone. They throw off the yoke of their Empire, choosing to make their own fate rather than serve their queen and emperor, but they’re bound by the laws of their species…

Unless they break and go Rogue.

“Rogue or not, one thing’s for sure. They sure as hell aren’t working for Emperor Raegan and Queen Jasmine.” My fingers tighten on her shoulders as my resolve strengthens. “I’ll tell you what, though. If these bastardsareRogue…the first one stupid enough to lay a hand on me loses his cock.”

Tasha snorts bitterly. I’ll take it. Whatever I can do to keep the crew and my captain sane is half my job as first mate.

I stare out over Tasha’s shoulder, trying to form a plan.

There’s nothing to do but wait. Whoever owns the ship wants us to sweat.

There’s a clunk from behind me. Chris pulls himself out of his seat, puffing his chest out with false bravado. His lined face is set with angry resolve.

Maybe that bravado isn’t so false, after all. That’s a problem. If he’s thinking of trying anything, he’ll get us all killed. Chris is a competent bastard and he buckles under authority when Tasha or I make a call he’s not on board with.

“There’s only three of them. We could grab one of those Reavers and blast our way out.”

That confidence could get us all executed. Chris has balls, I’ll give him that, but the testosterone’s marinated his brain. Some guys lash out when they get scared. I’ve got Chris’s number. He’s the most likely to start something and get us all killed. He stalks to the weapons cabinet and wrenches open the metal hatch, pulling out a combustion side-arm like the ones they used to use on Old-Earth back in the Oil Age.

“Put that back,” snaps Tasha. “There are only three of themin view—but there are bound to be plenty more on board. You saw thesizeof this ship!”

Chris pauses. “See howcalmthose Aurelians down there are? Working on that Reaver? They’re not even worried about us—and probably with good reason.” Tasha nods at the pistol Chris is clutching. “None of us are getting off this ship with a weapon.”

Chris’s eyes narrow. If it’s going to be a mutiny, he’s going to have to get through me before Tasha. I clench my first, ready to hit him hard from behind if he doesn’t follow my captain’s orders.

Slowly, he puts it back. I release the tension in my hand, but I can’t release it from my mind. We’re all taut, live wires, ready for anything to set us off.

Tasha presses on the coms-link. It’s a futile gesture. If they wanted to talk to us, they’d be talking. No—whoever is in charge of this ship is a real bastard who wants us sitting here sweating while he takes his time.

“There! Look!” I point through the cockpit glass at the upper level of the loading bay where a set of doors slides open. A lone Aurelian saunters through like he’s going for a walk in the bloody park.