by Renee Rose
I gaze around at the throng gathered in front of what used to be the palace. Everything seems so vast and empty under a bright sky, devoid of any cloud cover. The Zandian sun reflects off the white marble stone that makes up the rubble, nearly blinding me.
How can such a small group possibly ever rebuild this planet, dedicated as they—we— are?
The devastation in Zandia’s capital is so absolute that it makes me sick to my stomach. The crumbled ruins of once-majestic buildings, now heaps of marble rubble and twisted metal, look as gruesome as any bloody wound I tended during the battle.
I shouldn’t care—it’s not my planet. My planet was raped and ruined a thousand years ago by the Ocretions, but Zandia’s been dangled in front of us humans like Shangri-la. A place we’ll be able to be free.
Supposedly.
But what Zander’s saying now puts ice cold fear into me.
A shiver runs down my spine and I can’t stop my gaze from flicking to the giant Zandian warrior across the plaza.
Tarren.
The one whose firm thigh I straddled when I sewed up the gash splitting the side of his face. He’s standing with two other Zandians and—sweet mother Earth—they’re all looking at me!
A lock of my thick black hair blows into my face on a hot, dry wind that smells of nothing except ash, and I brush it back with impatience, then wipe more dust from my strong thighs, bare beneath my—short tunic. I haven’t had a chance to wash or change since the battle—I’ve been tending the wounded non-stop. The warrior beside Tarren lets his gaze slide to my bare legs and heat crawls up my neck. I should’ve found a pair of leggings before this meeting.
“If you wish to receive a land and homestead grant, I suggest you form a group, find a female, and ready yourselves to petition,” King Zander declares.
My stomach knots. Find a female.
I’m not an idiot. I know what that means for me. For the other human females of breeding age. We’ve just become breeders. We’re probably no better off than any breeding slave in the galaxy.
My mouth goes dry and I have to will myself not to look across the plaza at the warrior again. Will he and his friends come for me? Claim me? How will it work? Do I have to be willing, or can they just come carry me off?
King Zander has said we’re no longer slaves, yet there’s nowhere else we can go in the galaxy where our freedom will be recognized. In other words, we have no choice but to accept whatever the Zandians offer.
And it sounds to me like my only option is to become a Zandian bride.
I scrunch up my hands at my sides, not because I’m making fists to defend myself, but to stop my fingers from shaking.
I don’t want to be claimed by one alien warrior, much less two or three. Or—stars forbid—more!
I barely hear the rest of the announcement, but when the gathering breaks up, I seek out Lily. She’s a human mated to a Zandian and sister to the Queen. She might know more about what I can expect.
Already the air in the plaza crackles with sexual tension, as if the king’s proclamation has every warrior ready to fight to claim a female.
There are no more Zandian females—at least none who are unmated—so the females Zander referred to are human. Former slaves, like me.
Oh hell. I tug my tunic down as if I can make it grow to cover my bare thighs.
Several Zandian warriors eye me from across the cracked plaza. I really should have changed my clothes before I came out. I suddenly realize how provocative my boots must look below bare legs.
On the training pod we females were protected by warriors like Lundric, who has a human mate. I was able to dress for pure comfort and ignore any interest my bare skin garnered. After what I’ve endured at the hands of the Ocretians, I preferred to keep myself apart.
I find Lily, but she’s talking with her mate. I sense warriors closing in on me from all sides.
Fuck.
Like a coward, I run.
I head straight for the makeshift med bay where I’ve been working all night. It’s a stupid place to go, but I haven’t been assigned a room yet, and I don’t know where else to hide.
As soon as I’m there, though, the memory of treating Tarren’s wounds comes rushing back.
The way my core heated standing so close to him. The way he gripped my buttocks when I stabbed his cheek with the needle.
I lean against the metal wall of the crashed ship which became my headquarters to steady my breath.
I’m not interested in the male. I’m not interested in any male.
Of course, it may not matter what I’m interested in.
King Zander wants the planet repopulated.
As soon as possible.
Tarren
“Looks like you’ve already picked out our mate.” My cousin Jax follows my gaze to the dark-haired beauty streaking across the plaza. It’s all I can do not to chase her down, toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to our quarters right now.
Without saying it aloud, Jax and I both know we’ll apply as a team with our other cousin, Ronan. We’re family and we stick together.
Jax has a bemused look on his face. He glances around the desolate wasteland of rubble, so different from the planet we left as children, just before the invasion. “She’s a good choice. With the boots she’s sexy as hell, but she looks sturdy enough for—”
He stops when my fist wraps in his tunic. “She’s more than a vecking breeder,” I growl.
Jax holds up his hands. “All right, all right. She’s way more. Looks smart. She’s the medic, right?”
“Riya.”
She looked at me earlier and blushed, just as she had when she treated my wounds last night. When I had my hand under that short tunic to cup her tight little ass. Veck. I’m hard just thinking about it. “Her name is Riya.” Her name sounds exotic and delicious, like she looks.
“We need to claim her,” I tell Jax, and scowl. I don’t even know why I’m saying this—I don’t want a female. But I’m sure as veck not letting this one slip through my fingers, either. “Before another warrior does.” My fists close at the thought of some other Zandian with Riya.
“I think she’s already yours, cousin.”
I want to throat-punch Jax for his characteristic light-hearted and positive outlook.
“No. You need to charm her. You and Ronan. She’ll be afraid of me.”
Jax eyes me, not missing that I’m holding something back. “What did you do to her?”
“What did I miss?” Ronan comes up in a hurry, panting as he jogs. “I was on guard duty onboard the palatial pod and just got relieved.”
“What did you miss?” Jax rolls his eyes. “Just about the most life-altering thing you can ever imagine. Great day to be lazy.”
“Go veck yourself.” Ronan punches him in the arm. “Tell me,” he demands, more seriously this time, picking up on the tension in the courtyard.
“It appears,” Jax says, his voice collected, “the three of us are going to share one mate. A human. From what the king just announced, it sounds like Zandians can apply as a team, which must include a female, to accept a homestead here.”
“Hot damn!” The thrill in Ronan’s voice is evident. “It’s about time! I’ve been dreaming of a nice little Zandian homestead since the planet rotation we left. And a female to share? That just sweetens it all the more. This is the best news I could imagine!” He throws his arms around our shoulders. “I cannot imagine a better future.” He laughs out loud. “This is the best day, cousins!”
“You don’t care that we all have to share one mate?” My voice comes out more forcefully than I intend. Yes, we’ve shared females, the three of us, in random encounters, and we all enjoy it that way. But long-term, a mate with whom we are expected to bond and protect? It seems complex and troublesome. What if I want to kill them both every time they touch Riya?
There’s no doubt in my mind now that she’ll be our female. I’ve been dying to claim her lush little body from the moment I sa
w her out on the battlefield trying to drag the wounded in by herself.
She’s fierce. And the way she lifted her chin when I threatened to warm her ass for leaving the safety of the downed ship was adorable. A little warrior exists behind that alluring peachy flesh of hers.
And then there’s those vecking thighs…
Stars, if I don’t get to be the one to pry them open and taste her honey first, I might throttle both my cousins.
Ronan smiles, and I scowl again. Ronan is always so...excited about things. It irritates the veck out of me.
“I never thought I’d be lucky enough to get a mate.” Ronan shrugs. “I don’t mind. I share everything with you two, anyway. Why not our future?”
Easy for him to say. With his lazy smile and his way of joking around, Ronan has a way of making friends with any and every being in the galaxy. Once he’d even had the enemies laughing with him —before we killed them, of course. Naturally Ronan wouldn’t mind anything.
“Which female do we get? Is it the one with the bare thighs?” Ronan leans to look in the direction of the med bay. “Is she...ours?”
I’m simultaneously relieved and pissed that Ronan’s already picked the same female Jax and I agreed on. At least we won’t argue, but I hate that he’s been drooling over her. But it is interesting that all three of us have zeroed in on her. What does it mean? Probably nothing, other than we share the same taste in women.
“We don’t know yet,” I snap. “We don’t know how the females will get get distributed. I assume we have to make her willing, but who knows? They may use Daneth’s gene matching technology like they did when they bought the king’s mate for him.”
All three of us bare our teeth at the thought of not getting to make this choice on our own.
“She smells...good.” Ronan smiles.
“When have you smelled her?” I growl, jealousy flooding my veins.
“Calm down, cousin!” Ronan elbows me. “I’ve never seen you act so possessive before. Don’t worry, I’ve not mated her in secret. I happened to pass her just now and I noticed her.”
I grunt, ignoring the relief that courses through me. Not that it matters. If I have to share a female, I’ll have to accept the fact that she is all of ours.
“Her name is Riya,” I force myself to say. “And I think you two should go and talk to her.”
Ronan shoots a quizzical glance at Jax.
“Something happened between them,” Jax fills in, although I’ve told him nothing yet.
“She’s the one who stitched my wound,” I say, as if that explains things, touching the jagged line that crosses my cheek from the neck to the eye.
How will our future mate feel about the ugly scar it will leave? It must make me appear hideous. The king’s infant son burst into tears this morning when he saw it.
“And?” Jax prompts.
My cock starts to swell at the memory of her sweet human scent, her breasts dancing in front of my mouth as her slender fingers moved deftly with the primitive needle and thread. I wanted her then, and still do, now. “I may have...touched her inappropriately.”
Ronan barks out a laugh and Jax rolls his eyes. “What in the veck does that mean?” Jax demands.
I stare in the direction of the med bay, my feet demanding I march down there right now and carry her back to our shared chamber so we can start the process of claiming her. All vecking night.
“She was standing so vecking close—straddling my leg. When she stuck me with the needle I grabbed a handful of her ass.”
“Over the tunic, right?” Jax asks doubtfully, like he’s trying to make this right in his mind so we can get past it.
I shake my head.
“Vecking excrement, Tarren! What in the hell were you thinking?”
I shrug. “I was thinking about her juicy ass. I’d already threatened to warm it for her if she left the shelter again. If you’d seen the way she blushed, you would’ve been fixated on that particularly glorious part of her anatomy too.”
Jax’s lips tug up. “I’m sure I would’ve been.”
“So what’d she do?” Ronan asks.
My own lips lift. “She apologized to me.”
Jax groans and adjusts his cock.
“And then I let her rub her little clitty all over my thigh while she stitched me up.”
“Oh please,” Ronan laughs, giving me a shove.
I grin back. I’m not about to tell them that it’s actually true. It’s too impossible to believe.
“So let’s go claim her,” Jax says, heading for the med bay.
Ronan follows without question.
I stare for a moment, but then I jog after them. I know that look in Jax’s eye. He’s the thinker in our group and when he’s made a decision, it’s usually a good one.
Riya
There’s really nothing to do in the med bay. All the injured have been moved out to one of the pop-up domes the warriors set up this morning. It seems King Zander came to Zandia well-prepared for post-battle occupation of his planet.
I walk around the empty space, spraying sterilization mists on surfaces.
I’m hiding.
If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit that’s what I’m doing. I’m afraid to go anywhere near a male Zandian right now because as far as I can tell, King Zander just declared it open season on human females.
I stop and stare at the cot where the giant warrior Tarren sat. I don’t usually think about males, but this one has dominated my thoughts from our first interaction.
He’s all height and muscles, and stars, the way they ripple as he moves! He ran out into the laser fire and dragged the injured in for me to treat all planet rotation. Scolded me when I went out myself.
I will bring them in. Leave again and I’ll warm your ass.
A strange tingling had flushed through my body at the threat.
A hear a step at the door, and I know immediately it’s him.
I turn, my lungs jamming up in my throat.
He’s not alone. With him stand two other warriors. There might be a resemblance, but I’m not sure. I haven’t known enough Zandians yet to pick out their similarities and differences.
He clears his throat. “Riya.”
I try to swallow and fail. “Tarren.”
One of the warriors beside him steps forward, lifting his fist at 90 degrees in the traditional Zandian greeting. “I am Jax, and this is my cousin Ronan.” He indicates the younger warrior on Tarren’s other side. “We are all three cousins,” he amends. “But you’ve already met Tarren.”
I take a step back but I’m already at the wall. “You’re here for me.” It comes out as a statement, not a question.
The males don’t advance, which I appreciate.
Jax tilts his head. “Does that frighten you, Riya?” There’s something both soft and threatening in his voice. Not scary threatening, though. More like thrilling. A dark promise that these males can be threatening, even if they’re not showing me the whip yet.
I curse the tears that spear my eyes. “I-I don’t want to be claimed.”
Tarren gives a soft expletive in Zandian, his look turning deadly. “You’ve been forced.” It’s not a question.
I can scarcely breathe, but the question relieves me. I bob my head in the affirmative.
“By some being here?” Tarren barely keeps the question below a roar.
I’m trembling, but I’m not afraid. Not of him, anyway. Just of my own past. And of the future Zander just outlined. I shake my head. Not here. It was Ocretion slave masters on the agrifarm. More times than I can count. They tortured me so many times with the shock sticks that I’m forever infertile now.
And I don’t know what will happen if King Zander finds out I’m useless as a breeder.
When these males find out.
Tarren’s hands open and close in fists like he wants to make my past tormentors pay.
“You’re safe with us, Riya,” Jax says. He’s as good-looking as Tarren is big. Hi
s eyes hold a calculating intelligence and his voice carries such assurance it’s hard for me not to believe him. “Better to be claimed by us, males you can trust, than by another group.”
My brows shoot to my forehead and a shocked laugh tumbles from my lips. “What makes you think I trust you?”
His lips curl with a smile that probably makes most females fall to their knees and worship him. If they had any females around here, that is. “You trust Tarren. And Tarren trusts us. So by extension, we all trust each other.”
This time I actually do laugh and all three of them move forward like it was an invitation. “That’s the most ridiculous—” I splutter, but stop when they arrive inches from me. So close I feel the heat from their powerful chests warming me.
Tarren puts a finger under my chin and lifts it until I meet his brown-purple eyes. “No being will hurt you again,” he promises.
And just like that, I believe him. Because who would argue with a seven foot tall horned giant of a male? I’ve seen the male in action. He’s a fearsome warrior.
Ronan picks up my hand and rubs his thumb over the pulse at my wrist. “You definitely want to be claimed by us, Riya,” he says.
I want to laugh again, but I can’t. The thrum between my legs is becoming too insistent. The tightening of my nipples too distracting.
As one, the three males inhale, nostrils flaring.
“She’s ripe for us,” Ronan observes.
I squeeze my inner thighs. “N-no I’m not.”
Tarren wraps a meaty hand around my nape, stroking it. “It’s all right to be aroused, Riya,” he murmurs. “We’re your mates.”
I give a shove to the closest chest, which belongs to Jax, but the males don’t fall back. They don’t fall back, nor do they advance. Three pairs of eyes watch me intently.
“Y-you’re not my mates.”
Not yet.
Already my body seems to know it’s an inevitability. Moisture gathers between my legs.
“Do you prefer another warrior?” Jax asks smoothly, like he already knows the answer will be no.
I shake my head.
He brings the pad of his thumb to the crease between my brows and rubs it away. “Then you’re ours.” He leans forward and kisses the place he’s just rubbed. “Don’t fight it. We’ll take good care of you, Riya, I promise.”