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On the other side of the basement, Otho swings his legs – jumping down from the workbench.

“Don’t bore her with politics, Lazar,” he scoffs. “I’m already tired of this underground lair – don’t make it worse by discussing such depressing things.”

“Facts,” Lazar murmurs quietly in response. “Depressingfacts.”

“Maybe,” Otho shrugs, “but facts can wait until later. We sit here embracing the darkness, when I wish to feel the sun on my skin instead.”

The scar-faced warrior turns towards the stairs.

“Come. You never know when you are going to feel that last kiss of heat. Let’s walk.”

I gasp: “Out…there?”

I still remember the bodies of the men who’d tried to ambush us – cut down with effortless brutality by Otho and Lazar. I wish I could channel the same strength and bravery I’d been filled with the previous night, when I’d rushed out of this underground bunker to make my escape.

Now that I know the danger that awaits me outside, I’m hesitant to try again – and it’s not the sharp, burning heat in my backside that dissuades me.

“We will keep you safe,” Otho promises, as if reading my mind. There’s no hint of fear in his voice. Last night’s ambush by those human scavengers was nothing to him – it didn’t even register as danger.

And why should it? This is a man who’s rushed into Scorp nests and come out blood-soaked, but breathing. How can malnourished, desperate human scum pose a threat to his kind? They are as threatening as a mosquito to beings like him.

For another moment, there’s silence – and then the hulking alien warrior strides across the basement to one of the big duffel bags I’d dragged beneath the window. He unzips it, and pulls out a small, jet-black pistol from inside. He tosses it to me as casually as if it was a protein bar.

I miss the catch, though – and the gun clatters to the ground.

With a squeak, I jump up from my seat – expecting it to fire.

Otho chuckles as he watches me, warming the room with that unexpected, mirth-filled laugh. It surprises me every time.

Are these my captors?I wonder.Or my friends? The lines are getting so blurred…

As I often do, I mask my fear with anger.

“You could have killed me!” I snap, pointing at the gun. “What if that thing went off!”

Otho just smiles. It’s infuriating.

Infuriating, but also strangely amusing. I wasnotexpecting this sort of treatment when I was kidnapped by three brutal, Aurelian warriors.

I’d read so much about their speeches – obsessively devouring the pages about that mating rage. When I was taken by them, I’d been worried something awful could have happened – or something wonderful.

I shiver.

I still remember the way Brennan lunged towards me moments earlier – the way his emotions andneedoverwhelmed his rational mind.

In comparison, Otho and Lazar might be playing nice – but I know they share that same Aurelian programming beneath the surface, and at any second, they could snap in their need for me as well.

It’s like being a juicy porkchop, imprisoned in a kennel of hungry wolves.

I bent and pick the gun up slowly. It’s like it was made for my hand – fitting the curve of my palm with inhuman perfection.

Lazar points at the weapon.

“That’s a high-powered weapon, Natali – not some clumsy blaster. Fingerprint activated. Once you touch that Orb, it will work for you.”

Orb? Is he serious?

I glance down and confirm what he’s taking about – this isn’t a regular blaster, or laser pistol.