Kept by the Zandian: Zandian Brides Book 5 Page 12

  Exquisite, actually. Her dark skin glows with health, her full breasts beckon. The nipples are darker brown, steepled. Ripe for the sucking.

  “Yes, Master,” she murmurs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  My cock throbs and it’s all I can do not to throw her down on the hoverdisk and take her long and hard.

  Who really gives a veck if she disobeyed me or not? And did I truly expect her not to tell her human friends something of enormous personal importance? If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit it was a setup for punishment.

  But somehow, I don’t think she minds.

  Not a bit.

  “H-how do you want me?” Her voice is husky and sweet.

  “Bend over the hoverdisk, legs spread wide,” I command.

  She obeys, offering up her juicy ass, the ripe plum of her dripping sex between her legs.

  I lubricate a heavy bulbous plug, used on human females for punishment. I’m going to veck her with it.

  “When you’re naughty, little human, you’re going to take it in the ass,” I tell her.

  Her head whips around and she takes me in with wide eyes. I rub extra lubricant on the dusky rosette of her asshole, then push the tip of the plug against it.

  “Open for me, Taisha. Deep breath.”

  She pinches her cheeks closed instead, squirming.

  I slap her ass, hard. “Obey me.”

  She’s panting. I’m fairly certain it’s not fear, but excitement.

  I smack her ass again and kick her feet wider apart. “Open for it. Now.”

  She exhales and the tight muscles release. I push the plug forward slowly.

  She hums, then squeals at its widest point. When it settles at the base, she hums again.

  “Naughty humans get their asses vecked while they’re punished,” I tell her.

  “Yes, Master,” she murmurs in agreement.

  Her compliance, her enjoyment of this makes me all the hotter. I don’t know how I’m going to keep from claiming her before we’re through.

  Actually… maybe I do.

  “Taisha.” My throat is inexplicably hoarse. “On your knees, now. Show me you’re sorry.”

  She understands immediately, sliding off the hoverdisk and onto her knees at my feet. I free my erection and she opens those full lips.

  “That’s it, beautiful.” I push my throbbing malehood into her mouth.

  She swirls her tongue on the underside, hollows her cheeks and sucks when I ease back.

  “Good girl,” I praise. I’ve already forgotten about punishment.

  All I care about now is the way my cock disappears into her mouth, the incredible pleasure rocketing through me.

  “Taisha,” I murmur. “That’s so good. So good.” I’m jabbering. Soon I’ll be speaking nonsense. I hold the back of her head and thrust deeper, forgetting my cock is too big for her mouth.

  She chokes, but doesn’t stop, still pulling hard.

  I let out a string of curses and veck her mouth faster, burying my hands in her tight curls, forgetting to be gentle. She takes it, her big brown eyes lifted and glued to my face.

  I shout and climax, pulling out to spill my rainbow-hued cum over her breasts.

  She watches me, licking my essence from her lips.

  I’m overcome by the need to give her the same satisfaction she gave me. I pick her up and toss her onto the bed, then pull her ankles high in the air.

  My hand slaps down on her exposed ass with a crack and she kicks in surprise. “Did you think I’d forget your spanking?” I ask, although I have nearly forgotten it.

  I spank her steadily, warming her flesh with my slaps, watching her ebony skin turn a shade more purple like mine.

  And then I drop her ankles and thrust her knees wide. I’m dying to feast between her legs. Show her the reward she gets for submitting to my authority.

  She shrieks her pleasure from the first lick. I hold her thighs open and treat her to my tongue, my lips, even my horn. It doesn’t take long to bring her to orgasm, but I don’t stop there. I pump the plug in and out of her ass as I suck her clit to bring her to a second climax. Then a third.

  By the time I’m finished with her, her screams have turned hoarse and her entire body is trembling and limp.

  I stand over her, panting. “Have you learned your lesson, little human?”

  She smiles, cupping her own breasts. “Yes, Master.”

  I drop my head to the side. “Yes, I believe you have.”

  * * *

  Taisha

  Drayk falls asleep on my hoverdisk, the sound of his slow breaths soothing away the threat of any nightmares.

  My entire body’s still buzzing from all the orgasms he gave me. I notice he still hasn’t claimed me fully.

  He still believes he can’t mate with a human and keep his mind clear enough to be a judicial sage. It’s a piss-poor excuse if you ask me. Of course, I’m not cleared for mating, anyway. Not until my probationary period is over.

  Part of me doesn’t want it to end. Not if it means leaving Drayk’s protection. Opening the floodgates to males petitioning to share me. And on Zandia, they often pair a single human female with multiple males. I can’t imagine.

  The thought frightens me.

  I study Drayk’s handsome face in slumber. The square, manly jaw. The smooth, hairless purple skin. He is both mighty and compassionate. Stern and playful. He may pretend he doesn’t care about me, but every time he touches me, it’s explosive, and I know I’m not the only one experiencing the raw passion.

  He’s fast asleep, his face finally relaxed. It’s like he carries the entire planet of Zandia on his shoulders. Even that satchel seems so heavy on his shoulder.

  The satchel!

  I start and he murmurs in his sleep, rolls over, and continues to slumber.

  Pulse quickening, I quietly slide off the hoverdisk and pad over to the door. I glance back, but he’s not moving.

  I reach down and open the bag. It’s not locked; although it has a keycode area, it’s not set.

  I push aside a comm unit, some techie things I don’t recognize, and there it is—my tiny worn brown satchel.

  “Here you are,” I whisper, and tug it from his bag. I tiptoe over to the food prep area, which is hidden from the sleep space by a partition, and silently slide my bag open on top of the counter. Nostalgia hits me hard, because I imagine that the bag smells of firewood and soot, the burnt smell of the harsh wood we used on Romon-3. And that was the smell of Leylah, who spent so much time working in the barracks. For a second I think I’m going to fall over with grief, with the loss. Tears come to my eyes, and then I wipe them away. Take a breath. Leylah wouldn’t want me to lose my focus like this.

  “Please, please be there,” I exhort. To my utter relief and gratitude, when I reach down under my spare trousers, there it is. The coin.

  “Thank Mother Earth.” I grasp it in my left hand, just as I did back on Romon-3 when Leylah gave it to me. When I thought it spoke to me.

  I should hide it anew, put my bag back, and get back into the hoverdisk. But I can’t resist the urge to reach out.

  I sit cross-legged on the smooth white marble floor and start to breathe the way Mirelle showed me. Then I remember how Leylah would close her eyes and seem to sway, so I let myself do that too, still clutching the coin hard so its edges dig into my skin.

  I blank my mind out and wait, but nothing happens.

  Frustrated, I try again. I squeeze the coin and force my mind to empty. I let it fill with stars, with light, with the sound of the waterfall. With life and everything good.

  “Teach me about the toxin,” I beg. “Or show me something helpful of any kind. Anything at all.” I wait.

  But nothing comes.

  Well, I’ll hide the coin and try again. But where? I glance around, and my gaze fixes on the fruit. Use the orange. He will, too. Was this was Leylah meant? It’s odd, and it must be meaningful, because there’s an orange right in front of me. Som
ewhat rare, too — a special treat sent over from humans who are trying new plants from around the galaxy.

  Well, it’s an excellent hiding place, and one Drayk would never check. Since Zandians don’t eat like we humans do, he’ll never examine the foodstuffs here for me.

  I rip the skin of the ripe orange with my finger and insert the coin deep into the flesh. I stuff my satchel back into Drayk’s bag and try to arrange things the way they were, and crawl back onto the hoverdisk, my failure pressing on me like a stone. The smell of the orange is like a perfume on my fingers, but it fails to soothe me.

  That glimpse I got of Bayla’s children—was it just my imagination tricking me, wanting to render them in my mind? Like I was creating artwork? I have no way to show her the image and see if they match her real children. Or was it a real message, a gift, something I can strengthen, if I just figure out how?

  Maybe I can try again.

  Or perhaps I just need to get the coin to Lamira; after all, it’s meant for her, anyway.

  I was just hoping I could make the magic work for me, again.

  Chapter 14

  Zander

  “A moment of your time, my lord?” Daneth stands in the doorway of the council room where I was meeting with Seke, my Master at Arms. His dark-haired mate Bayla is tucked under his arm. They’re an unlikely pair. Or at least I thought so when they mated. He’s as old as my father would be, clinical, unemotional. You might even say cold.

  Bayla’s everything opposite—vibrantly young and fertile, with a natural emotional buoyancy. She melted my physician’s frozen heart. Brought him to life. Made him a father—twice now.

  “Enter.” I fold one hand over the other and rest my chin on my knuckles.

  Lamira trails in behind them and I extend my arm out to her. She comes to my side and I tug her onto one knee, my arm around her waist.

  Daneth and Bayla sit at the table. Bayla’s milky white skin is paler than usual, her mouth drawn up tight.

  I’m already certain I know what this is about. Especially considering Lamira showed up to join the conversation.

  “Bayla has heard the news,” he says plainly, not bothering to explain what news.

  When Captain Drayk returned with the files on Bayla’s young, Daneth kept the information from his mate until it could be reviewed. He didn’t want her to develop false hope.

  “I see.”

  The pretty human lifts her large eyes to mine. “My lord, is it possible? To find my children and bring them here, to Zandia?”

  “I understand these are your wishes, Bayla. That is why we engaged in a potentially politically damaging operation to get the information.”

  Bayla flushes and drops her eyes, then lifts them again, pleading.

  I tip my head in Seke’s direction and he speaks. “It is difficult to track slaves before they become the Galaxy-mandated minimum age to work. We now have their barcode numbers. I’m sure Daneth has told you he’s been running them through his databases non-stop.”

  “And when you find them?” she presses. She’s normally the most demure of humans in my palace, but I’ve learned a human mother will do anything for her young.

  “We will attempt to purchase them. If that’s not possible, we will discuss alternate strategies.”

  “Like what?”

  Daneth lays a cautionary hand on his mate’s arm, but I allow it.

  “We will steal them if need be.”

  Bayla’s body goes limp with relief and her eyes swim with tears. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “The initial operation may have already done irreparable political harm,” Seke warns.

  Lamira goes still. “What happened?”

  “A galactic theft report was filed over the data we took. If they’re able to identify Taisha, the human operative we sent in, there will be warrants out for her arrest. We don’t believe they will be able to trace her to Zandia, but if they do, it could become a diplomatic nightmare,” Seke explains.

  “They will trace her to Zandia,” Lamira says.

  “How?” I demand.

  My mate shakes her head slowly. “I cannot see.”

  I steeple my fingers. We’re looking at a possible war, all because my scientific advisor wants to satisfy his human mate. And yet I cannot deny him. The human females have become part of us now. They are our family. They are Zandians. And Zandians protect their own, with honor and courage.

  “Tell me how to avoid this war,” I say to Lamira. She has no control over her gifts, although they’ve become stronger since we reclaimed Zandia and she’s near our crystals. But I’ve learned that sometimes it’s just about asking her the right questions.

  She sits quietly, staring at nothing. “It is inevitable, my lord. The tides cannot be turned.”

  Veck.

  Not the answer I wanted.

  “But it doesn’t mean we’ll lose. I see Zandia as a strong force with many allies.”

  “Then we’ll face it as it comes,” I say.

  * * *

  Drayk

  “So how goes it with your human?” Tarak grins.

  “She’s not my human,” I insist, even though my mind rebels as I speak the words. “Don’t speak like that.” I nod my head toward the other room. “Others will overhear and think I’m not acting responsibly as a judge.”

  “I think the others will get jealous that you get to live with her and veck her every planet rotation if you want.”

  “I don’t veck her!” My voice rises, and of course, it’s then that a few beings look over, curious. I lower my tone. “Because that would not be…”

  “Appropriate.” He fills in the word. “Listen, Drayk.” He steps closer and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Perhaps you’re taking this judge thing too seriously. If you have a bond with her, why not just accept that and mate her?”

  I’m taken aback. “Because I cannot be attached. I need to stay clear-minded. Besides”—I scowl—“as you so aptly pointed out a while back, King Zander would probably assign her to receive multiple mates. Once she’s free to choose.”

  I slam a comm unit down onto the console, surprising both of us. “I’m not the type to share.”

  “I was thinking about that.” He nods. “And it’s true. As you once told me, other Zandians are attached as sole mates. Maybe you don’t need to share her.”

  “I don’t intend to keep her, so it hardly matters.” I force myself not to react to his words.

  He picks up the unit, and turns it in his hands, presses his optical sonar button on his headset. A series of beeps and flashes indicate that electrical signals are being sent directly to his frontal lobe. “Looks like you ruined a cap bridge, so we’ll send this to repair.” He raises an eyebrow. “Remember that Zander also wants us to repopulate. A strong warrior like you could surely be beneficial to our gene pool.”

  “Why don’t you add yourself to the gene pool and leave me alone?” I snap.

  His face loses all expression. “You know why.” His tone is cool. “My genes are inferior. Blind from birth. I will not risk putting a young Zandian into the same situation.”

  “Brother, I am sorry.” I reach out to slap his arm. “I spoke without thinking.”

  “I accept my situation.” He turns his head to me, and I swear, his eyes—blind though they may be—seem to be directed right at mine. “And you are lucky to be able to choose your situation, Drayk. Yours is not foredesigned, like mine. So be sure you choose wisely, and pick a life that will benefit Zandia and yourself. From what I have learned, other Zandians only thrive and increase their productivity when they mate with humans. Why would you be any different?”

  He picks up the comm unit. “I'll drop this at the shop.”

  By the time I arrive at the meeting, I’ve succeeded in putting that conversation from my mind. When King Zander calls us to order, I’m back to my laser focus.

  “Tensions with the Ocretion are escalating.” Commander Seke flashes up a holo image. “We unscrambled this transmissio
n from an Ocretion ship. They believe that we have humans on planet that we set free and use for mating, and that many of our humans were stolen from them.”

  A murmur rises in the room.

  “Do they have any plans?” “How did they find out?” “How serious is this?”

  King Zander holds up a hand. “We assume they have learned to intercept our messages, as we do theirs. And there may be rumors started when we rescue and buy humans from slave auctions. Other beings recognize Zandians and there is talk.”

  “Whether they plan anything? We do not know.” Seke frowns. “But while we do recon, we are avoiding certain target areas within the local galaxies where they have strong activity. With the starship that Mirelle and her mates stole from them, we have knowledge of their current masking technology and can find their ships. But we need to lay low and avoid conflict while we plan.”

  “What about the most recent human acquisition?” A warrior speaks up from the back of the room. “Is there any issue with her arrival? Is it even a good idea to have her on planet?”

  I snap my head around. “There is not. She snuck onto our ship and is believed dead by her previous master on Romon-3. She participated in a mission on the way back to Zandia but was not detected. She is a boon to Zandia.” My body is stiff. It’s my job to question her—not his. And truly, she has done good deeds. I’m just… making sure she’s fit. For the planet.

  The warrior persists. “So it’s just coincidental, then, that her removal and their aggression happened in such quick succession? Should we send her back?”

  I’m ready to snarl at him, but King Zander speaks, and I bite my tongue. “This tension with Zandia and Ocretia is not new. And we never consider sending humans back to slavery lightly.” His voice holds a rebuke, and the warrior nods in apology, and lowers his gaze. “Even if they found out about our most recent human, it would be just an additional drop to their bucket of anger. We are working on a toxin right now that is fatal to Ocretions. This is a top secret project, and must not be discussed or found out by anyone on Ocretia. If they know we are working on this, it is possible they might do a preliminary large scale attack, and our current anti-aircraft and missile interception systems are still solar cycles from completion.”