by Renee Rose
She nuzzled him and her body softened even more, molding to his frame, her breath slipping in and out evenly.
He closed his eyes, wanting to savor only the feeling of Leti’s body against his. Forget about his mother, the war, or the precarious position of his species.
7
A touch on Leti’s arm brought her attention back to the room. “Can you give me a hand?” Bayla was speaking to her. The females—Zandian and human alike—were playing with the children gathered in the Great Hall.
She gave herself a shake. “I’m sorry—with what?”
“In the lab. I want to check on the baby.”
Great, another place to remind her of Paal’s scorn. But she needed something to do, so she agreed. “Sure, of course.”
She and Bayla headed to the lab where Bayla turned on pieces of medical equipment. One whirred to life next to the table, projecting a blank hologram.
Bayla hopped up on the table and handed a small hand-held instrument to Leti. “Just bring it slowly over my belly,” she instructed.
Leti complied, and the blank hologram turned into a projection, flickered and transformed. “Oh!” Her breath caught as the image of the tiny fetus appeared floating beside them.
Bayla giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “I don’t really need to check so often, but I like to see her. She’s so perfect, isn’t she? Look at those little toes!”
Inexplicably, tears welled in Leti’s eyes. She’d never wanted to have children, not that it mattered what she wanted. Reproductive capabilities were suppressed in all sex slaves. A child would be another emotional attachment—something to cause her great pain when it was taken from her.
But seeing Bayla’s tiny fetus stirred some deep longing in her. Her chest tightened and twisted with pain at what she’d never have. “She’s perfect,” she managed to choke out.
“Do you want to breed?”
She choked on an inhale. Damn Bayla’s directness. Pain—not just at not having babies, but at not having a mate who’d want to breed her— bounced around her chest before she managed to expel it all.
“No,” she said firmly. “Never.”
Bayla must’ve seen through her, because she shrugged lightly, slipping off the table. “You should have Daneth check to see if it’s still possible. You know—just so you know.”
Was it still possible?
Her uncertainty must’ve shown on her face because Bayla waved her up to the table. “Get up there. We can at least see if you still have a womb.”
Curiosity won out over her desire to run away from the lab and never look back. She pushed herself up on the table, her palms damp with cold sweat.
Bayla took the small device and pressed it over Leti’s abdomen. “Oh yes, you have a uterus, see?” She pointed at the hologram. “And what’s that?” She dragged one section of the hologram to enlarge it. “Look,” she pointed at a tiny round spot.
“What?” She tensed. Was it some implant they’d put inside her? Or some illness?
“I might be wrong…” Bayla frowned.
“What, Bayla?”
“That looks like an implanted egg.”
Leti stared, still not sure she understood. “What are you saying?”
“A fertilized egg. The start of a baby.”
First everything inside Leti went dead still. Then it exploded. She didn’t realize she was sobbing until Bayla handed her a disposable cloth to wipe her tears.
“I-it’s not possible,” she sobbed. “I shouldn’t be fertile.”
“Some sex slaves aren’t permanently altered. So that their masters can have the opportunity of breeding them if they wish. You might have been given something to suppress it for a number of years and now it’s worn off.”
More tears. A ridiculous amount of tears.
“I mean, I might be wrong! There’s a blood test we can do. Do you want to try?”
She sniffed and nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Okay.” Bayla went to the storage cabinets and searched for a device. When she returned, she cleaned a spot of Leti’s inner arm and shot her with it. Blood filled a cannula and mixed with some other liquid. Bayla popped it out and shook it. “We’ll know in a few minutes. It measures an early hormone.”
Leti’s brain couldn’t even function as she sat there waiting. Every time her thoughts came around to I might be pregnant it stalled and went dead.
After what seemed like an eternity, Bayla said. “Yes, you’re definitely pregnant. And it’s definitely Paal’s. See?” She showed her a readout Leti couldn’t understand, as she’d never been taught to read. “Daneth had Paal’s gene sequence in his database.” She grinned broadly. “You’re having a Zandian young, like me.”
Sweet mother earth. Pregnant!
“H-how old is the baby?”
Bayla grinned. “It’s not a baby yet. But I’d say no more than a planet rotation or two. It’s definitely Paal’s, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Another sob went through her.
Paal.
The male she didn’t want to care about.
And a baby she’d couldn’t stop herself from loving.
What in the hell was happening to her?
Zander paced the dock of the galactacarrier. Three battleships had docked. He nodded to the pilots as they disembarked. His presence was important. He had to show them they were all in it together. That he didn’t send them out to risk their lives lightly. But he couldn’t think of a vecking thing to say to them.
And so no being spoke.
No one wanted to point out what had become painfully obvious.
Shanli had been a trick. A trap. A vecking mistake.
They’d waited in position through the night and into the next planet rotation, but the ships they’d identified on their radar weren’t there.
Zander had ordered the battleships out to fire at the places their maps showed the Finnian ships, but they weren’t cloaked.
They simply didn’t exist. Or they may exist, but they sure as stars weren’t anywhere near Shanli.
Which meant they were somewhere else.
Zandia.
And Seke didn’t have nearly enough laser power behind him to fight.
And he hadn’t answered any communication since that morning.
Veck, he’d waited too long to call his ships back. They needed to be traveling to Zandia now.
“Rok, as soon as the last ship is docked and accounted for, set the course for Zandia.”
“Yes, my lord.” Rok’s expression was as grim as Zander’s must be.
The war had begun and they were drifting out in Shanli with all the best ships and equipment with their heads up their asses.
By the time they got to Zandia he may have lost half his troops.
Vecking excrement!
“Let me know when they’ve all safely returned.”
“I will, my lord.”
Paal grumbled as he changed his tunic. Lamira had decided to uphold the tradition of a formal weekly meal in the Great Hall, despite the fact that they were at war. Leti was already with the other females, doing whatever it was females did.
He supposed it was smart, on Lamira’s part. A distraction for the occupants of the pod. But for his part, he could do without it.
He’d spent the entire planet rotation and this one avoiding his mother, but now he’d be forced to not only see her, but to sit down and converse. And yes, he was acting like a ten cycle old.
Maybe he should just keep pretending he was needed on deck. His mother had been hard to dodge, because she kept seeking him out, asking a million questions about the pod and those who normally lived there.
It would be just like her to be seeking a new mate. Foolish and greedy old female.
He dragged his feet getting to the Great Hall, but arriving late was a strategic error, because he found a seat had been saved for him at the head of the table. Right next to his mother, with Leti on the other side.
May the one true
Zandian star help him.
He bowed to the table before he sank into his chair.
“There you are, dear,” his mother trilled. “It really isn’t polite to keep the table waiting when you’re the commanding officer.”
As if his nails weren’t already digging into his palms.
Like when his mother had arrived, he sensed Leti’s avid interest in their interaction. Veck. If he were a real leader, he would send his mother away from the table for insulting him in front of others. No, a real leader wouldn’t draw the criticism in the first place. Or would a real leader just brush it off?
Veck if he knew. Which probably meant he wasn’t a real leader. Only when he had his little female pinned beneath him did he feel the way he wanted to. Powerful. Potent. Masterful.
Not the way he felt now, like little more than a defensive youth. Damn his mother for bringing out this side of him.
Fortunately, Barr, the pod’s elderly chef, arrived with the food, with help from his servants. The meal featured human and Ocretion foods alike—a savory combination of fresh vegetables and fruits, grown right on the pod by Lamira, and the best meats available from Ocretia.
Leti only picked at her food. Strange, considering how eager she’d been to sample all the dishes when she first arrived. But perhaps she’d finally eaten enough. He didn’t know how the human metabolism worked.
A niggling in the back of his mind warned him it was something else, but he pushed it away. He couldn’t trust any thoughts he had about females when his mother was around.
A Zandian Paal didn’t recognize sat beside his mother—another refugee, about the same age as her. The male was well-dressed and regally mannered, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his male-eating matriarch.
She touched the male’s sleeve and purred, “Did I tell you my son is the commander here?”
Ugh. He wanted to vomit. Now she was going to use his status to improve hers? Of course she was. She’d use anything.
On his other side, Leti watched everything.
The male turned to him and put his fist up in the traditional Zandian greeting. “I am Thon.”
Paal returned the gesture. “Paal, of Prince Zander’s Royal Guard.”
“We appreciate your efforts to keep us safe.”
Blah, blah, blah.
He forced a smile.
Watching yet another dance of seduction between his mother and a male made him sick.
His gaze drifted, as if attracted by a magnet, to Leti. Her skin appeared paler than usual and she’d stopped paying attention to his mother, frowning, instead at her food. When she realized he was watching, though, her temptress mask snapped into place. She took a slow bite of food, closing her lips around the fork in a way that had his cock surging against his flight pants. Now that he observed at her, he realized how incredible she looked, dressed in a beautiful white gown with a plunging V for a neckline.
Maddening female. Now he’d never stop staring at her cleavage. He wanted to veck that temptress look right off her face. Put her up on the table on her hands and knees and make a meal out of her. Then tug her hair back with one hand as he plowed into her hard enough to make her scream.
“Paal,” his mother trilled. “Why haven’t you introduced me to your human?”
Oh veck.
“What is she to you? Slave?”
Every being at his end of the table stiffened, Zandians and humans alike. They were in mixed company with a human as hostess and mate to their leader. Referring to humans’ slavery seemed...gauche at best.
“Lidea, meet Leticia. Leti, my mother, Lidea. And no, she’s not a slave. Zandians keep no slaves, by decree of Prince Zander.” He employed formal tones and pitched his voice so everyone would hear. His mother could insult him all she wanted, but he wasn’t going to give her the opening to target Leti. Especially if her purpose was to show off to some male.
“Mmm.” His mother dabbed the side of her mouth with a napkin. “Be careful, then. She looks like she wants to get her hooks into you.”
“Enough, Mother,” he snapped.
Leti’s lips curved into a sultry smile, and she made a clawing motion toward him.
Vecking hell. He needed to get out of this damn room.
After the meal, some of the old refugees pulled out musical instruments and started playing. The music was elegant. Soothing. All the older Zandians immediately brightened, some with tears in their eyes. Servants appeared from every corner of the pod, hovering in doorways to listen.
It struck Leti that she hadn’t heard a single note of music since she’d arrived on the pod. She’d thought perhaps Zandians didn’t listen to music.
Lamira stood and used a switch on her collar to amplify her voice. “I am delighted to introduce to you the musical group Crystal Prophecy. They were on tour in the galaxy when the Finn struck and have been quietly playing the music of Zandia in small gatherings ever since. They’ve offered to play for us tonight. Please feel free to remain here in the hall while the servants clear the tables for dancing.”
Dancing.
What did Zandian dancing look like?
The band struck up the lovely melody again. The older male who’d sat next to Paal’s mother, Lidea, extended a hand as if inviting her to dance. Other elderly Zandians got up in pairs, delight shining in the smiles on their wrinkled purple faces.
Despite her age, Paal’s mother moved with light feet and grace as her partner spun her around the room. Leti found herself smiling despite her opinion of the female. She could see why Lidea got under Paal’s skin. She struck Leti as superficial, selfish, and judgmental. And that was based on the way she treated her son, not the way she looked down at a human slave.
Leti didn’t give a flying pile of excrement about that.
She didn’t give a flying pile of excrement about much of anything except reconciling her thoughts around having a baby.
She didn’t know the first thing about being a mother. But she’d learn. She’d spend time with Lamira and watch how she cared for her little halfling. And Bayla, when she had her child. She’d be the best vecking mother to her baby the galaxy had ever known.
She didn’t have the slightest clue how to talk to Paal about it.
Hell, she didn’t even know if she would.
There were moments, mainly after they’d been intimate, but also after the attack on the pod, when both their barriers had been down. She’d been herself with him and he’d shown a tenderness that had taken her breath away.
In those moments, she’d been a different person. Without fear, she found in herself a bounty of affection. She wanted to give to him, without limit. Not because he was her master, but out of genuine desire.
But he’d also been distant and angry. He’d rejected the idea of mating her and hadn’t claimed her in any way in front of his mother.
If she were smart, she’d squelch that flicker of yearning that flared in her chest when she found out she’d be having his baby. He didn’t want to mate her. She should find another male. An easier conquest. A Zandian who wanted to mate with a human and have a family. He didn’t have to know the young was Paal’s.
But that thought made her nauseous.
She didn’t want a “conquest.” She wanted the real thing.
What she had with Paal.
They stood up from the table to allow the servants to clear. She fully expected Paal to disappear immediately—he’d been eyeing the door from the moment he came to the meal, but instead he held out his hand to her, the same way his mother’s suiter had.
“Would you care to dance?”
She reached for his hand, breath catching in her throat. Why should the simple invitation make the room spin and her knees wobble?
Because she was a slave and he was a beautiful, noble warrior. Because he’d been playing hot and cold since the moment she met him and she never knew where she stood. Because maybe she’d wanted this moment to arrive far too much for comfort.
He led her to the side
of the room and gathered her hands in his. She didn’t know the dance—had never partnered with another being before—but he made it easy. His confident, sure movements guided her. She glided around with him, turning to and fro, circling the room.
He leaned his head down. “I’m sorry about my mother.”
She flashed a smile up at him. “She doesn’t bother me, Paal. I’ve met far worse. I wish you wouldn’t let her get to you.”
His eyes followed her across the room. “Look at her now—throwing herself at a new male.”
“I know.” She made her face sympathetic. “But your father is already gone. Her betrayal no longer hurts him. Stop letting it hurt you.”
Surprise flitted over his face. He looked over her head, still gracefully guiding her about the room. He remained silent long enough she was certain she’d offended him. But finally he said, “You think I should excuse her? Forgive her?”
Leti shrugged. “The grudge only hurts you. Your mother is a limited being. She probably didn’t offer you enough as a parent. She certainly did your father wrong. But she is who she is. Resisting her only makes you tense.”
Paal eyed her. “Great wisdom from a slave.” He released one of her hands and spun her around beneath his other. When he stopped, she fell into his arms, dizzy. He held her quiet against him, not dancing. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that to sound derogatory.”
The edges of her lips kicked up in a smile. “Takes more than calling me a slave to offend.”
Paal guided her back into the steps, circling the room.
“How do you think I became so wise? I learned at a very young age what I could control and what I couldn’t. Most of it I couldn’t, so I had a choice. Either live in misery, or figure out how to flow.”
Paal was looking at her as if she were the most interesting being in the galaxy and she didn’t want it to ever stop.
“Mina and I used to play games to make it easier. We’d take bets on silly things, or give stupid names to things. Anything to lighten the droll.”
His look hadn’t wavered. It sent a warmth right down to the white slippers she’d borrowed from Mina for the night. “All right, little female.” He glanced over at his mother. “What will you bet my mother has that male in her chamber by the end of the night?”