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He gets off on exerting his control over us.

The towering Aurelian strides forward, and the leader of the Toads raises his electro-rod defensively. Marcel smiles at the unspoken threat – and that chilling grin sends a shard of ice stabbing through my heart.

Then, suddenly, the Aurelian moves so fast my eyes can’t even track his movement. He snatches forward with one of those huge hands - grabbing the carbo-steel tip of the electrified prod and closing his fingers around it.

Instantly, there’s a crackle as the electro-rod activates. Thousands of volts flood through the blade – and every muscle in the Aurelian’s body suddenly tenses up as the surge of electricity floods through them.

Marcel’s huge biceps bulge and flex – but that smile never waivers. Slowly, as he absorbs the crackling voltage, that smile hardens into a grimace. Marcel squeezes his fingers more tightly against the carbo-steel blade – and then he yanks the electro-rod clean out of the Toad’s slimy fingers – tossing it aside like garbage.

The weapon is still crackling as it hits the fetid water – until it shorts out with a plume of sparks and a puff of acrid smoke.

The Toad cowers back against the wall.

“Please, Marcel!” The foul creature suddenly doesn’t look so terrifying any more – every jiggling jowl of his flabby body quivering like pudding. “These are for the Bullfrog auction!”

Bullfrog auction.

Behind me, one of the girls suddenly throws up – spewing the last meal she’d had into the brackish water swilling between her feet. I hear things moving and wriggling in the water and I nearly throw up myself.

If we’re intended for a Bullfrog auction, that means we’re considered the cream of the crop – the highest quality of slave meat available.

Tessa, myself, and the ten other female prisoners are going to be auctioned to the formidable warrior caste of the Toad species – the fearsome Bullfrogs.

Just as repulsive as the others of their species, Bullfrogs stand apart from regular Toads – literally. They can stand over nine-feet-tall, and unlike the flabby bulk of their brethren, Bullfrogs have a leaner, stronger build; as if their gangly bodies are weaved together by ropes of warty muscle.

Compared to a Bullfrog, even an Aurelian seems dwarfed. I’ve even heard nightmarish stories of women abducted and forced into the harems of a Bullfrog – and gettingcrushedbeneath the creature’s foul-smelling, slimy weight as the Bullfrogs cruelly and greedily rut with them.

The thought of being a slave in a Toad aquarium is terrifying enough – but of the helpless women recruited to the harems of Bullfrogs…

…few are ever heard from again.

The appetites of Bullfrogs are legendary – and their hunger isn’t merely sexual.

I wish I could dismiss such rumors as the fables of drunken space-farers – but I’ve heard such things directly from the slaves Ling and I once rescued.

I think of how I used to rescue women in exactly my situation. I’d been so fearless back then – focused and relentless. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Back then, I’d been a different person – the old me. She’d been a woman brave enough to make a difference. A fighter, like Ling.

But the old me had died when she did – and despite her ghost guiding me as Tessa and I fought for survival back on the Elnor, I don’t see the ‘old me’ ever finding life within me again. I’d survived by luck alone, panic forcing me forward.

I’m trembling as I look toward the three Aurelians. They’re towering triumphantly over the three Toads – the undisputable victors in this tense battle for dominance.

Marcel spits out a mouthful of blood – bright like scarlet on his marble-white lips.

The towering warrior must have bitten his tongue as he’d endured that crackling voltage. I watch the red glob floating in the water at Marcel’s feet – and my stomach churns as I witness tadpoles eagerly rushing to gobble up his blood. Some even begin fighting with each – thrashing in the water as they squabble over the rare feast.

Despite the blood, Marcel smiles – and it’s a dangerous smile. He ignores the Toad’s warning and steps forward – as if the three slimy, aliens aren’t even there.

Marcel strides towards us. The other two members of triad follow in unison – as if they share a single mind.

The twelve terrified women press ourselves against the slimy walls as they approach – no less terrified of these gorgeous aliens than the slimy, foul-smelling Toads who’d brought us to them.

Within moments, Marcel is looming over us. I gaze up and feel butterflies churn in my stomach. The leader of the Aurelians exudes an unhinged chaos – such a contrast to the almost statue-like stillness of his too-perfect face.

As the three warriors approach, I turn my head down – too terrified to meet their slate-grey gaze. When I can, though, I steal glances up at them – studying the three of them with the analytical intensity that Ling taught me.

Superficially, the three of them look similar – almost like brothers. I know Aurelians don’t have brothers, though. These three merely share the signature features of this legendary alien race – the marble-white skin, muscular physique, and intense, slate-grey gaze.