Kept by the Zandian: Zandian Brides Book 5

by Rose, Renee

  I withhold my urge to snarl at him. For some reason, I feel protective of her already, even though I’ve known her for all of a few moments, and she’s a deceptive stowaway who poisoned me and then tried to pretend it was an accident. “She’s trouble, is what she is. If the Ocretions know we took off with one of their slaves from Romon-3, at this time? Tension is high enough already between us. They could follow us and attack.” I pause. “And right now, Ark, I need you to review safety protocols and ensure that we have no further breaches while she is on board.”

  Ark raises his hand and strides off.

  Tarak scoffs. “They’d not be so foolish to attack, the Ocretions.”

  I shake my head. “They are vain and power-hungry, and rumors are spreading about humans on our planet. Rumors of humans being free of enslavement. If that information spread to their slaves, it could cause mass attempts at escape or rebellion.”

  “Still, this is a Class 3 warship. We’re already out of their air-space, and cloaked. They’ll never find us.”

  “That may be so. But they could take out their aggression on another Zandian ship.” I sigh. “But she’s already here. And if they believe her dead, there is no reason to return her.”

  “Would you really return her anyway?” Tarak’s voice is wry.

  “Veck, no.” I chuckle. “I’ll never give anything to an Ocretion. Especially not something as valuable as a human female they’ve lost due to their own stupidity.”

  I rethink it. “Due to her cleverness, rather. They’re not that idiotic. She must be a mastermind.”

  “A mastermind who will be the talk of Zandia, when we return with her. If she’s as gorgeous as you and Ark claim, and if she escaped like she says? A powerhouse. Perfect partner. That is, if she’s deemed safe to stay on Zandia.” He raises a brow. “After sticking that needle in you, I assume the king will have some doubts. Shall I question her?”

  I frown. Stand up. “No. I will talk to her myself and find out more of her story. We need to understand her history before we bring her to Zandia.”

  “It almost seems like you want her for yourself.” Tarak grins. “Although I know that’s not possible. You’ve refused to mate thus far.”

  “This conversation is not appropriate,” I snap, surprising both of us with my vehemence. “She is a dangerous stowaway. End of story.”

  Tarak puts up both hands. “My apologies, Captain. I was just saying.”

  “Well, don’t just say anything more on that matter.” I give him a dark look, even though he can’t see it. He’s so adept for a blind being, I rarely treat him as one. “Ensure we are on course and watch for Ocretions. Their masking technology is improving all the time.”

  He nods, and I stride down the corridor, eager to get answers from the human.

  Chapter 4

  Lamira

  I pop a delicious sweet cake from the palace kitchen into my mouth, praising our elderly Zandian chef, Barr. “Mmm, I just need eight more of these,” I tease, polishing it off. I’m still nursing my second young, which means my appetite is always high these planet rotations. Plus, I didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night, so I’m making up for the energy depletion with food.

  Chef Barr bows. “Sit down. I will serve you any quantity you desire, my lady,” he promises. Zandians only eat once every ten planet rotations and they do not rely on food for sustenance, but from the first planet rotation I arrived, Barr has gone out of his way to prepare and serve me Earth-based food.

  I take another one. “I can’t stay; I have to visit one of the settlements this planet rotation.” I pick up another cake and take a bite as I head out the door and hit a wall of solid muscle.

  “My lord,” I gasp in pleasure.

  Six solar cycles since Zander bought me to breed and he still incites a riot of excitement in me every time I’m near him.

  His arm bands around me and he pulls my much smaller frame against his, but his expression is serious. “You’re not going out.”

  “I must, my lord. They are expecting me.”

  He shakes his head. “No. You need a nap. The young kept you up all night.” It’s true. Our daughter, Kaylar, is sick and was up crying most of the night. Zander and his servants all attempted to help, but she only wanted me.

  “I’ll nap when I get back.” I feel a strong responsibility to act as a liaison to the human females who have been claimed by Zandians and now inhabit their—our—planet. I know what it’s like to be born and raised as a slave on Ocretia. To never feel safe, to carry so much suffering.

  “I said no.” Zander bends and throws me over his shoulder, carrying me in the direction of our chamber. He gives my ass a slap hard enough to be considered a warning.

  “Zander, stop,” I giggle. “This is entirely undignified.”

  “You should have thought of that before you defied me,” he rumbles, but when the sound of voices comes down the corridor, he lowers me into a baby-carry instead. He may treat me like a slave in private, but in front of his warriors, I’m always honored.

  He holds his palm up to the sensor beside our chamber door and it swishes open. He enters and lowers me to my feet. “Strip.”

  If I didn’t know him, I’d think his gaze hard. He’s often expressionless, or stern. But he’s not angry with me. This is a game, but one we haven’t played in far too long. It was a rule he made for me long ago—if I am in his chamber, I have to be naked.

  The rule fell away with our first young, and now with two babies and a reclaimed planet to manage, we have no time for extended intimacy.

  I shuck my traditional Zandian white dress and my underclothes and drop to my knees at his feet, wearing nothing but my crystal-studded collar and the crystal piercings he left in my flesh when he formally mated me.

  A ghost of a smile plays around Zander’s lips. “I should have hauled you in here for discipline long ago.”

  He glances at his cuff. “Ninety-five percent and I haven’t even touched you, yet.”

  When he first bought me for breeding, his doctor embedded a sensor in my body to read my arousal. It was meant to help Zander learn how to coax an orgasm from a human female, but in the process, he also learned how much his dominance fans the flames of desire in me.

  So yes, it’s my fault the entire human female population of Zandia is held in bondage through the sexual dominance of their mates. My body betrayed us all.

  My nipples harden to points and my pussy clenches as I gaze up at my dominant master.

  Mate.

  Zander’s horns thicken and tilt in my direction, his irises turn more purple. “Here’s what’s going to happen, little slave. I’m going to warm your ass because I told you last night I wanted you to rest this planet rotation and you disobeyed. Then I’m going to ride you until you’re begging for release. And when I finally let you come, you’re going to be so satisfied you fall right to sleep. But if for some reason you wake up and get off the hoverdisk before the young requires her next feeding, we’ll start over. Me turning your ass the color of my skin. You taking my Zandian cock until you scream, and then more sleep. Understand?”

  My cheeks heat and I drag my lower lip through my teeth as I nod. “Yes, Master.”

  Zander’s eyes gleam dark purple. He fists my hair. “Up, then, little human. Time for your punishment.”

  * * *

  Zander

  The scent of my mate’s arousal fills our chamber. She’s softer and more beautiful than ever, her role as mother and queen giving her not the proud regal edges my mother wore, but something far more yielding. Receptive. Feminine. And yet no less strong. Her softness makes her the most adored figure on our planet, not only by her own species, but also by mine, who have mostly embraced the idea of taking humans as mates. There are still those purists who believe we should seek another way to keep our species from extinction, and those who believe the humans’ food requirements will destroy our planet’s resources, but for the most part, my species are content. We have our planet back.
We are gradually acquiring females and breeding. Still not enough yet, but we will get there. We cannot arouse Ocretion suspicion that we’re mating humans rather than enslaving them or there will be conflict.

  I settle on a hoverseat and lift her from her kneeling position. Beautiful female. Her body is softer than when I initially bought her. With her agriculture knowledge and my wealth, we’ve managed to find and grow many original Earth-based crops. Lamira’s body has filled out with abundant food. I squeeze her plump ass before bringing my hand down sharply.

  She gasps. It’s been a long time since I’ve spanked her, besides the slaps I deliver here and there to excite her. My cock lengthens along my leg in anticipation of really getting her writhing over my lap.

  I start slowly, rubbing in between, glorying in the way she tenses and releases, her sharp intakes of breath. Then I increase in speed and intensity. Harming her is never my intention—just delivering the good kind of hurt. The kind that sends her rocketing to climax. Her skin begins to pinken under my hand, but I don’t stop. I want to take my time this planet rotation—make sure she’s truly worked over and satisfied so she can get some much needed rest.

  Her gasps turn to whimpers, and her hips writhe in the most intoxicating way over my thighs. My cock thrusts against her hip, eager to join the party.

  “Zander,” she gasps. The sensor on my cuff flashes—she’s close to orgasm. I don’t need the sensor anymore. I can read my mate; I know the scent of her arousal, the dilation of her pupils, the sound of her cries. But it entertains me to keep it—the readouts from her body always on me at all times. It keeps me from worry for her safety too—I can check her vitals and location at any moment.

  “Your primary duties are to me and our young,” I lecture, spanking a little harder. “And we need you well-rested and healthy. If your king says you require a nap, you will obey, understand little slave?”

  “Yes, Master,” she gasps. “Oh, please, Zander.”

  I know she’s not begging me to stop, but to go on.

  “If you are weary, the rest of the planet can wait. You will delegate your duties and take time for yourself. Am I clear?” To make my point, I deliver five hard spanks, and she shrieks in alarm.

  I flip her up to straddle my lap, cupping her hot cheeks in my palms. “Am I, love?” I murmur softly, allowing one of the sensitive tips of my horns to nuzzle into her silky hair.

  “Yes, my lord.” Her expression shows desperation, pleading.

  “Ready for your vecking?”

  “Yes, please.” Her tone is sweet and small. Pleading.

  I can’t stop the feral grin that stretches across my face. “Good girl.” I pick her up and carry her to the hoverdisk—the floating oval platform we sleep on.

  I lay her down and drag my horns across her breasts, down her belly. I use one horn to nudge her clitoris, and she grabs my head, rubbing against it.

  I growl. “Veck!” It’s too much. My own need rises like a wild beast. I fall on her, clamping my hands around her delicate wrists and pinning her down. With one brutal thrust, my cock spears her.

  Her pleasure cry makes my horns throb even more. I thrust so hard, her body slides across the bed covering. I shift to clamp a hand at the place where shoulder meets neck, so I can hold her in place.

  “Take it, little human,” I growl, even though she offers no resistance. Even though she lifts her legs to wrap around my back and pull me in even harder.

  “Yes!” she gasps. “Please, Zander.”

  I veck her brutally, my control undone with her breathy cries. Nothing but the need to dominate my mate, to give her every measure of my lust, overtakes me.

  My rigid horns pulse, hard as stone. “Now, beautiful. Come, Lamira,” I order.

  Her green eyes lock on mine and there’s an exquisite pause, like the space between breaths. Then we both come with the explosion of a supernova. I don’t stop thrusting hard the entire time, my rainbow-hued cum filling her tight squeezing passage and spilling out between us.

  When we’ve both finished, I slow to a stop and hover over her, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing in her breath.

  An aftershock ripples through her and her pussy clenches around my cock again and then she stares sightlessly through me.

  I still, recognizing the sign of a vision coming to her. In the stillness, my malehood pulses and twitches inside her, but neither of us move.

  Finally, she blinks, and her chest fills with air. “A human slave escaped this planet rotation.”

  I tilt my head, wondering why this would be important.

  “She stowed away on a Zandian ship to petition you for asylum.”

  Still, I wait.

  “Her escape will bring things to a head with the Ocretions. They will discover the relative freedom you’ve granted humans here and will fear that every human in the galaxy will attempt to escape to Zandia.”

  My jaw hardens and I pull out, dropping to my side next to my lovely mate. “We will return the slave, then. We are not in a position to risk war with Ocretia. They’re far too powerful.” We only won our planet back from the Finn a few short solar cycles ago and our population is near extinction.

  Lamira pales, her eyes wide in her face. “My lord, you cannot. This human’s destiny is tied to Zandia’s, just as mine was. It has been seen in visions other than mine.” She swallows. “Besides, if it’s not this one, it will be the next. You know this conflict is inevitable.”

  I frown, not over this situation—we have dealt with worse. More because my plan to settle my mate into sleep has been thwarted. I need to redirect this conversation if I want to succeed. I stroke away the creases on her forehead. “Yes, I suppose it is. I’ll call a council meeting to discuss it. You rest, love. Thank you for your prophecy.”

  She blinks at me for a moment, then relaxes, nestling into my chest. I stroke her arms and back until she drifts into slumber, then get up to call my council.

  It seems we have a diplomatic nightmare about to open up.

  Chapter 5

  Taisha

  “Your name.” He barks the question like an order, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

  I gulp the fluid in my mouth and jerk, my whole body involved, and cough. I struggle to my feet with the bottle and my cuffs, and stumble, my head groggy.

  In a flash he’s beside me. “Do not stand.” Now he seems irritated that I tried to show respect. “You need to rest.” He puts his hands on my shoulders.

  I gasp at his nearness. My heart pounds and I drop the tube. I open my mouth and make a small squeak, because the mere touch of his fingers to my body—skin on skin through the weave of the shawl, sets me aflame. Instantly my blood is hot and I feel it pounding in my neck, my wrists, and Mother Earth, somewhere deep inside my core, a secret place.

  Stunned, I can only stare at him.

  “Did I hurt you? Veck. Sit, sit.” His hands tighten, then loosen, and his face seems to darken and get more purple. “I’m, I am, I think you…” He clears his throat.

  I sit, chew the inside of my cheek. Our gazes lock. It’s impossible, this sensation in my body. This fluttering my chest and belly. I’ve never—

  He reaches down and takes the tube without looking, hands it up to me, and the fact that he’s lower than I am, almost at my feet, makes the flurries in my body intensify. Heat fires between my legs.

  I want to speak, but I’m afraid I’ll squeak again, which is unbecoming.

  He’s still looking at me, and for some reason that I don’t understand, his horns thicken and seem to grow.

  Without knowing why I do it, I dart my tongue out and lick my lip and give him a small smile.

  His jaw clenches and he stands up. “I asked your name. If you’re so eager for asylum, I suggest you cooperate with these most basic questions at a very minimum.” His voice is stern. Dominant.

  Thrilling.

  “Yes, my Lord.” I don’t know if that is the right term, but all I want to do is show obedience at th
is point. “Thank you for allowing me to petition. My name is Taisha, and I am a human slave, and have spent the entire life I remember on Romon-3 under ownership of the Ocretion Master Foonal. I would like—”

  “Stop.” He holds up a hand. “When I want more, I will ask for it. We do this on my order.”

  Chastened, I nod, and grip the fluid tube in my hands. The magna cuffs circle my wrists gently, almost like jewelry. I snort, thinking of it—me in baubles!— then tears well up. This is something royal indeed, compared to the treatment back at the hands of the Ocretions.

  “How many slaves live on Romon-3?”

  “In my ag-farm, there are exactly thirty-three. Master owns multiple farms on Romon, and I don’t know the grand total.”

  He nods, then fires more questions. Our general treatment. How old are we? Our health? How do we eat? He records our discussion on his comm device.

  Along the way, another Zandian joins us and hands over my pack. There is a discussion in an undertone in their Zandian tongue, then he returns, his face harder.

  “And this?” He holds up my pack. “What is in these syringes?” He smiles, but it’s not friendly. “Now that you’ve answered the easy questions, we’re getting to the ones I really care about.”

  I swallow hard.

  His eyes narrow. He and the other Zandian exchange a look.

  Scared, I speak quickly before they have a chance to act. “It’s poison from asps on Romon-3. Leylah makes, made… it. In secret.”

  “Why do you have this?”

  “She said to use it if I was stopped. It was my emergency weapon. Like I told you before, I used it to kill one Ocretion during my escape. He fell, almost immediately.” I shake my head in wonder, remembering the moment. “He was about to kill me, and then… he just died. So fast.”

  “Immediately?” They both stare, stony-faced.