Kept by the Zandian: Zandian Brides Book 5 Read online

  “Why would the old woman send her out into the universe without the knowledge? Veck.” I furl my brows. “It’s a kind of a waste of information and a vessel.”

  Dr. Daneth picks up a vial and holds it up to the light. It flashes iridescent, but still does not look exactly like the fluid in Taisha’s vials. “We assume she was possibly trying for protection—if the human, Taisha, were captured, she’d never be able to give up the exact formula. But we have enough knowledge to work with it, assuming we can at some point get the venom and fruit extracts we need from Romon-3.”

  “Are you saying we need to go back there?” I immediately think of how we can make that work. “And collect asps?” I raise my eyebrows. “That will be dangerous. I’d rather avoid that planet for the time being.”

  “Understood, but it may be necessary.”

  I nod and tap my comm. “Send me the specifics, and I can set up a mission.”

  “I will, but we need you to bond with her as well. If she is comfortable with you, she may relax and remember more about the procedures. And we will want her here in the lab as soon you deem her safe.” The doctor gives me a pointed look, then glances at his mate.

  “Experience shows that humans who bond more rapidly with Zandians and fellow humans integrate faster, and become useful on planet more quickly,” she reminds me.

  I nod, although I am aware my expression is probably tight. “I understand.”

  “Are you planning to mate her?” The doctor’s voice is bland, but his eyes are sharp.

  Mate her.

  The words shoot straight through my chest and sink into my heart.

  I never saw myself mating a human. Other Zandians speak of how the bond with humans strengthens their ability to perform once they are accustomed to the changes, but it sounds like an excuse to me. I like staying active on missions, being an impartial judicial sage. And the humans have the effect of making Zandians emotional. Changing our ability to remain impartial. Judicious. This is the most critical part of my entire life. It would seriously affect my career.

  “I’m her guardian, and nothing more,” I mutter. “It would be inappropriate, if I am to judge her suitability on this planet.”

  I think I see Bayla smile before she hides it behind her hand. Then she turns. “Excuse me, but I must check these samples,” she says.

  Then she adds, busy doing something with glass slides and a pipette, “There have been, ahem, other couples on Zandia who started out the exact same way, and blossomed into something more. I’m just saying.”

  My face feels hotter, and I can tell it’s probably a deeper purple. Veck these humans and their irritating sensitivity to emotions. And their ability to bring ours out of hibernation.

  “That may be true, but I am aware of what is best for my own situation.” I clear my throat. “So I will provide you information when I have it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Doctor Daneth is lucky to have found a mate with whom he has such a strong bond, both at work and in the personal sphere.

  But we’re not all meant to have that. Some of us work better alone. At least I know my limitations.

  * * *

  Taisha

  “Here are some holos.” His voice is gruff, but his gestures are gentle as he hands me a stack of shiny discs and touches my arm.

  The contact gives me that tingly shock as always. “Thank you.”

  “Information about our planets. Made by humans, for humans.” He’s standing close enough that I can see the details in his eyes, the way the golden brown and purple work together. Gorgeous.

  “I know you are probably bored here when I am not present.”

  I nod. “I… would be grateful for diversion. I have thoroughly investigated the nutrition center a dozen times, organized the foodstuffs five different ways, and memorized the layout and things inside this domicile.” I laugh. I don’t mention the panic attacks and the tears that come at odd times, making me quake and sweat and shiver. The flashbacks to being trapped on their ship, nearly dying of thirst.

  But he steps closer. “Your eyes are red and puffy.” He touches the skin next to my lid. “What is wrong? Are you ill?”

  I look down. “Nothing. I am grateful to be here.”

  “Were you weeping?” His voice drops. “Taisha?” He touches my chin. “Answer me.” But his voice is not cruel or harsh. “What is it?” He sounds… concerned.

  “It is nothing. I promise, I am ready to see the planet. I won’t do anything wrong, Master.”

  I’m dying to get out of this room. I can see part of the city through the window, where I sit most of the planet rotation, at least, until the panic attacks come. When they do, I crouch in the corner, sobbing and clutching my knees, until the terror passes.

  “I have heard that humans sometimes… have emotional triggers from bad memories.” It’s like he’s feeling out the words, unsure of what he’s saying. “Post traumatic stress.”

  I chuckle, although it’s not funny. “You could say that.” Moments of abject terror. How anyone learns to manage it is beyond me.

  I know better than to ask him for help. He has made it clear that he is here to guard me, assess me. Nothing more. He may have a physical attraction to me, but he’s fighting even that. Clearly he doesn’t care about me in a special way. Plus, I have to stay strong, just like Leylah cautioned me. Alone.

  “Bayla said…” he pauses. “Humans acclimate better when they are around others.” His voice strengthens. “I will take you to meet her and Dr. Daneth at the laboratory. They have requested your help.”

  I immediately straighten. “Really? Oh, thank you. I would love that.” My voice cracks with gratitude. “Please, I really need that.”

  I didn’t want to beg, but now that he’s said it, I recognize how starved I am for company… and distraction.

  “I am sorry I didn't do it earlier.” He sits down in a hoverchair and regards me for a second.

  I am unaccustomed to hearing him apologize. I don’t answer, because I don’t know what to say.

  “So, tell me something about your planet. Tell me more about… life. There.”

  He puts his hands on his knees. I glance at his legs, those strong muscles, and avert my eyes from what is between them.

  “Romon-3 is not really my planet. But what do you want to know?”

  “Anything?” He sounds uncertain, himself.

  Is he just trying to pump me for information? I’d gladly give him more about the formula, if only I could remember something of use.

  “The planet rotation before I hid on your ship, I killed a serpent for the serum,” I tell him, closing my eyes to remember the details. “Severed its head with a scythe, one clean blow. I’m good at it. And then… something else happened.” I open my eyes and look up at him, checking his face. “Momentous.”

  I don’t know if I should tell him about saving the young, but right now his eyes are kind. Patient. Like he trusts me. And Mother Earth, maybe talking about it will make the nightmares stop.

  “I want to hear it.” His voice is low and persuasive. He seems interested. Like he really wants to know about me. And it feels good to have another being treat me this way, like I’m worthy of their sole attention.

  “All right. So Rannah and I were by the river, the wild part, where it runs fast and dangerous, before the falls.”

  “Why?” Drayk blinks. I like the way the beam of sun from the window catches his eyes and lights them up.

  I smile briefly, only because I like Drayk’s face. Then I get solemn again, as I go back to my story. “We were tracking out the path for a new canal for the fields. Master has us do the surveying and initial work by hand. Says it keeps us humble.”

  I chuckle without humor. “The Master was on site while I killed the snake, but he didn’t see it, because he was busy with a visitor. Master’s son watched, though. He seemed fascinated with me. And truthfully, I was curious about the son, too. He was… different.”

  “How so?�
�� Drayk leans in. His thigh muscles shift as he changes position, and I try not to stare.

  “His eyes were unusual for an Ocretion. The color and the expression. And his demeanor. Many of the young come to watch us and brag about how they’ll own us, one planet rotation. Mock us. This one just seemed curious. Innocent, even.”

  I twist my fingers together while I speak. “That didn’t matter to Rannah. She told me…” I think, so I can get her words just right, because they are etched into my mind. “She said: That’s his son. I’d like to kill him the way you killed the serpent. But not so clean. I’d take my time on his neck tendons. Dig in slow. Hear him scream first. Beg.”

  Now I’m not thinking about Drayk’s powerful muscles. I’m back in the moment, feeling the terror and the anger.

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, and suddenly Drayk is beside me on the hoverdisk, so close I can feel the warmth from his body. He pulls me in so I’m right against him and takes my hand.

  “You would hardly be judged for having such thoughts.” Drayk presses my hand. “Being enslaved and tortured, treated as property? Why would you not wish to kill the next generation of cruelty?”

  I nod. Having him so close is calming, like he can protect me. “Part of me was right there with her. But we didn’t discuss it, because Master brought his visitor right up to us. And he…” I shudder and go cold. “He…” My voice cracks. “He wanted me.”

  “What do you mean?” Drayk’s hands tighten on mine.

  “He said that my dark brown skin was so gorgeous, untainted. Pure. That I could sell for many stein as a pleasure slave. That he’d like such a human in his home for personal use. Mother Earth, he was vile. That greenish skin, those rheumy, mucusy eyes. He smelled like decay and death.”

  I swallow hard. “And I had to stand there and look pleasant, and unconcerned, as if they were discussing the weather. Not my very existence.”

  * * *

  Drayk

  I am ready to commit murder on all Ocretions when I hear this. My sweet human, almost sold as a pleasure slave to this monster? “They all deserve to rot,” I mutter. “Someday, stars willing, we will change this.”

  Taisha pushes into me. “I hope so.”

  “Do you need to stop discussing this?” I tilt her chin and peer into her face. “I do not wish to upset you.” I want to hear it, but the need to protect her rears up.

  She shakes her head. “Sometimes the only way to beat the demons is to let them out by talking. It helps. If you keep holding me.” Her voice lowers. “I like it.”

  I like it too… more than I should. I am aware that my body is reacting as if she were on my lap for a pleasure romp, not a difficult discussion.

  I push back my arousal so I can focus on her words. “I want to help you.”

  And the thing is, I really do. I wish I had the power to fix her wounds, make her happy.

  “They treated me like a… thing. I was a possession, nothing more.” She clenches her fist. “Do you know how awful it is?” She wipes her eye. “There’s nothing worse in the galaxy, I’m positive.”

  “You will never be that again,” I swear. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Except I’m sort of doing it to her now, putting her in detention without warrant. But I’m different, I tell myself, pushing back the guilt. Her life is so much better here. It’s not the same at all.

  “Well, then they left, the Master and his visitor. The son remained behind, just watching us, standing by the river.” She takes a breath. “And it’s then that it happened.”

  “The important thing?” I keep my voice light, so she won’t stop talking.

  “Yes. The Ocretion young fell into the river and started to drown.” She looks across the room. “They don’t swim well, and even us humans have a hard time in that river. The current is so strong. He had no chance.”

  “What did you do?” I’m spellbound.

  “Rannah and I ran to the bank. We could barely hear each other over the sound of the rapids and the falls. She put her mouth to my ear and said she wanted to watch him die.”

  “And you?”

  “I said he was only a child. Rannah got angry. Said we were were children once, too. That young grow up to be monsters, if you allow it. She wanted to enjoy the moment. She swore that his death would be her only pleasure in life.”

  “Hmm.” I like this Rannah, to be honest. She seems fierce. Dedicated to her cause.

  “But he looked at me, Drayk.” There is some new tone in her voice, as if she sensed my approval of Rannah just from the way I muttered. It’s like she needs to convince me of something. “Like I was someone important. Like I mattered. And there was hope in his eyes. I saw him mouth the words, help me. Please. So… I took off my boots. And I jumped in. I got him to shore and pounded his chest, and he—lived. He coughed out water forever and gasped, but he lived.”

  Taisha stops talking suddenly and her body goes tight in my arms. Suddenly she begins to sob. “I had to do it,” she whispers, as her body shakes. “The other humans hated me, but I had to.”

  She looks up at me, eyes wet. “Because he was not yet evil. There was still a chance. Do you understand?”

  It’s like the next thing I say will be the only thing that matters.

  I cup her chin and speak without even thinking. “I do. And you were right.”

  I still think that Rannah has the kind of fire that can inflame an army, although perhaps she is overzealous. But Taisha has a gift of peace, the ability to withhold judgment. To make a decision that’s not based in anger. As a judge, I understand that to be just as important to our survival.

  She closes her eyes and sinks back into my arms, and I know, without her speaking it aloud, that I passed some kind of test. When she continues her story—although it’s painful to hear—I feel that she’s speaking with more confidence. Like she trusts I won’t judge her.

  “He told us not to tell his father, or any Ocretion, about what had happened. Then he stood up. Gave me the hand sign that means respect, the one that male Ocretions only give to each other.” She tilts her head. “He could have gotten into serious trouble for doing it to me, even if I’d saved his life. It’s not for slaves. Our lives are not important enough.”

  I growl and tug her closer.

  Taisha lets out a long, shuddering sigh. “Drayk, I could have let him die. But I didn’t. And that’s in my bones, too, a lighter thing, along with the heavy ugly things.”

  She looks up at me. “And I’m not sorry. Because if killing is our only pleasure in life, then we’re already dead.”

  * * *

  Taisha

  I’m trembling by the time I finish telling the story. I wrap my arms around myself, even though Drayk’s arms encircle me too.

  Drayk holds me closer, and his embrace is soothing. “Taisha, I promise, you did the right thing, even if your friend condemned you,” he murmurs into my ear.

  “Tell me again. I need to hear it.” I relax my arms. “I keep going over it in my mind.”

  “I’m sure of it. This shows you have the courage and honor to think for yourself. Even when those around you lack honor.”

  I flinch because I can’t judge Rannah for wanting me to let the young die. Slaves don’t have the luxury of honor. But even so, his words are a balm to me.

  I melt into his embrace, close my eyes and rest my head on his chest, feeling the comforting beat of his heart, slow and even. “I just—wish I could give freedom to the other humans, too. I feel sometimes…” I sit up and twist to look at him. “Like it’s unfair. Why did I get saved, and they did not?” I shake my head. “It’s like a gift that I don’t deserve. I need to earn it, after the fact. I want to do something to make it worthwhile.”

  “You already did.” He sounds emphatic. “You got us those discs. And you brought us the toxin that can kill Ocretions. That will be invaluable.” But his eyes slide away after he says it. Does he not think it’s enough to convince Zander? Do I still need to prove myse
lf?

  “I hope so.” I rest my palm against his chest. “But please, now I need to think about something other than this.” I take a deep breath. “You tell me something.”

  “I should tell you something?” He sounds surprised. “What do you want to know?”

  “Something about your planet.” I smile at the way I’ve mimicked his question. “About you.”

  He laughs. “Okay.” Then he pauses, perhaps thinking of what to tell me. “One time,” he begins, putting his hand over mine, the one on his chest, “when I was a few solar cycles younger, I wanted to do something important for Zandia.”

  I like the feel of his huge, powerful hand on mine. “Go on.” I press my fingers against his shirt, wishing I could feel his bare skin.

  He strokes my thumb with his. “I thought that being a starship captain and going on missions was not enough. Zandia still has so far to go. So many enemies. We’re still so devastated as a species.”

  I wait for him to continue.

  “So I asked King Zander to train me as a judge.” His voice holds a hint of pride. “And he said yes. He said I had the ability to be impartial and look at the good of the planet in a unique way.”

  “That is commendable.”

  His face is close to mine, and his breath is warm on my cheek. “I didn't do it to be honored, although any praise means that I am serving Zandia effectively. I thought I should give my all to our people. One hundred percent, all the time.”

  “I understand. We humans on Romon-3, and probably elsewhere in the galaxy, we have a bond, too. If we can help each other, we do. The slave in the records room knew I didn’t belong there, but she said nothing. She helped me even though it could cost her her life. When I left, she said”—I lower my voice, remembering her words—“may you succeed.” I swallow. “We do what we can for each other. For the survival of us all.”

  “Hmm.” He nods. “As a judge, I need to keep my emotions at bay and make logical, well-balanced decisions that serve the greater good of Zandians. It means I shouldn’t mate. At least not to a human, because they create a state of emotionality in Zandians that is unstable.”