by Renee Rose
She hadn’t stayed to gawk, but caught glimpses of him attacking a guard and shooting out the lights as she’d made her run for it. Stars, she hoped he’d made it out safely. She hadn’t meant to endanger him—had never, in a million sun cycles, dreamed he would come to her assistance so quickly and capably.
And damn, he had been capable. Though he hadn’t been dressed as a warrior, he used his body like one. She’d forgotten the elegance and grace a trained fighter carried. Seeing him brought back memories of her father taking his warriors through their paces in the movement studio. The power and precision of each kick or lunge, the clarity of intention, the dance of bodies so clean it looked choreographed.
Her chest tightened with an ache she hadn’t felt in years—the sting of losing her father and the rest of her family. She’d give anything to see just one of them right now.
The Zandian had woken that homesickness in her. He’d ruined her for any other destiny. And while she regretted leaving him behind—not waiting to ensure he got out safely—at least he’d strengthened her resolve and given her the means to achieve her goal.
“We’re in Ocretian airspace. Where to now, beautiful?”
She shifted on her feet. This part she didn’t know. “I-I’m looking for a pod docked in the airspace here.”
“Let me guess, it’s full of beings who look like you?”
Hope quickened. “Have you seen a being like me before?”
The Stornigian smirked. “I’ve seen a few. I know where their pod is.” He lifted his chin at a large floating structure in front of them. “Doubt they’ll let me dock without an invitation, though.”
She frowned. “Take off your tunic.”
He grinned and twisted to look over his shoulder at her. “So we’re doing this now?”
She glared, but the merriment in his eyes said he only teased. She waved the laser gun. “Now.”
He started to pull the tunic off too quickly, and she jerked the gun level to his head. “Easy, beautiful. I’m just doing what you asked me to.”
She nodded, once. He moved more slowly this time as he removed the tunic and held it out to her. She gripped it, unsure how to put it on without lowering the gun or shifting her gaze from her prisoner.
“I’d offer to turn my back for you to get dressed, but I think I’ve already seen everything you have,” he drawled, letting his eyes drift lower. Despite, the taunt, he did turn back to the controls.
She took a step back and pulled the tunic over her head with one arm, keeping the gun trained with the other. With a little struggle, she wriggled one arm through the hole then switched the gun to the other hand and donned the other sleeve. She unbuckled the stupid pet collar she’d worn and dropped it on the floor. “All right. Call them.”
He flicked on the comms unit. “I don’t know their channel, but if I fly close enough, I expect they’ll hail me.”
Stars, she hoped he wasn’t tricking her. She tossed the strange bit of jewelry she’d taken from the Zandian onto the control panel. “That’s for you.”
“I’ll take the ring, too.” His teasing drawl was gone, replaced by a note of sharpness. In fact, he seemed far less drunk than he had when they left Aurelia.
She pinched her lips together. If he was, in fact, bringing her to the Zandian pod, she’d have no need for the expensive crystal. Surely, they would take care of her. If he wasn’t, that meant he probably had a plan to overpower her, anyway, and could take the treasure himself. Wouldn’t it be better to hand it over and established a little good will? He had enabled her escape, after all.
She unscrewed the ring from her thumb and dropped it on the control panel, too.
Both treasures immediately disappeared into his pocket.
An image flickered on the comms screen, and she nearly wept with relief. Zandians. Three of them, dressed as royal guards, broad-chested and proud, gazed out at them. “Identify yourself immediately,” one of them barked.
Her prisoner fiddled with the comms unit, adjusting the color of the picture before them, bringing the flickering image into focus. “They can’t see you. My lens is broken. Identify yourself.”
Her throat went dry. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“I repeat, identify yourself immediately.”
She answered in Zandian. “My name is Taramina. Daughter of Seke, who was Master of Arms to King Zander.”
The guards looked at each other. The one who had spoken gave a low order to another, who disappeared. “Hold your position,” he said curtly in Ocretion. “Do not fly any closer without authorization.”
“Understood,” her prisoner muttered.
Damn. What did it mean? Did they not believe her? Perhaps they were finding someone to verify if Seke was a made-up name.
She waited without breathing for what felt like forever. Then the missing guard reappeared with—oh stars—could it be?
“Papa?” Her voice choked with tears, eyes filled.
“Tara?” he peered at her, unseeing. “Get the picture up,” he barked at the guards. Yes, definitely her father. She’d remember that calm authority anywhere.
She laughed, moisture spilling down her cheeks. “Papa, it’s me. I didn’t know you’d survived. I just got free, and we need to dock.”
The head guard reached for a control on his panel, but her father held a finger up.
“Your mother’s name?”
Emotion bombed her chest, the past colliding with the present in an explosion. “Becka,” she whispered. “Is she—”
He gave a short shake of his head, and her hopes were dashed. “No. I’m sorry. I just had to be sure.” He nodded at the guard, who hit a button, and the gates to the dock opened like wings.
“Your ship is cleared for docking,” the guard clipped.
Her pulse raced as their ship landed on the dock. She tugged the Stornigian’s tunic down, wishing it covered more.
“There are pants in the closet in the bunk room,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes, trying to decide if he planned any tricks. But he wouldn’t have brought her all the way here if he wanted to ambush her now. “Thank you.”
She darted into the room he’d pointed to and threw open a cupboard. As he’d promised, she found a pair of pants, and she tugged them on. They were too short and fit her like a pair of tight stockings, but it was better than going out half-naked.
Someone pounded on the ship’s door.
“You’d better get it,” the Stornigian said drily.
She managed a wan smile and handed him his gun. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He shrugged. “It’s not every planet rotation I get taken hostage by a naked Zandian princess.”
A smile tugged her lips. “I’m not a princess.”
The pounding on the door grew louder. He lifted his chin. “Open it.”
She drew a long breath to steady her nerves and hit the button to operate the hatch. Zandian warriors parted and swarmed forward, surrounding her, propelling her straight toward the male waiting on the other side.
Her father.
At first, she could scarcely move, scarcely speak, but then he opened his arms and she was eight solar cycles again, running into her father’s arms. He engulfed her in an enormous hug, and she wept against his tunic.
She’d done it. Had escaped slavery and found her way home.
~.~
Erick docked his ship on the Zandian palatial pod and disembarked. He’d delayed his return home an entire planet rotation, not because he had anything to do, more because he didn’t want to face Zander and Seke.
But the time had come. Shame nipped at his heels, swirled through him like a fog addling his brain. It paralyzed his mind, kept him from finding any solutions to his problems.
If only he’d acted with more honor when he saw Seke’s daughter. Or required more of a guarantee from Behn. But he hadn’t done either of those things, and now he had to face the beings who cared.
He headed into the po
d without seeing anyone of importance. Good. He needed a chance to use the washtube and get his head on straight. He avoided passing the Great Hall on the way to his chamber. Prince Zander would be in there, sitting on his throne, hearing from members of their species. It was the one planet rotation per week when he opened the pod to any Zandian to use the crystal baths, speak with him, and dine with them.
That was one of the reasons Erick had chosen this planet rotation to return home. Zander and Seke wouldn’t have time to question him.
He stepped into his room, but it didn’t afford the sense of comfort he usually derived from returning. It seemed empty, as if something was missing. But when he tried to identify what, all he came up with was the beautiful female he’d lost on Aurelia.
And he was losing his vecking mind.
He stripped and stepped into the automatic spray of water, closing his eyes and letting it rinse him clean. Wishing it would cleanse his guilt and shame.
The automatic dryer came on, blowing hot air across his skin. He squeezed his eyes closed at the sensation. For some idiotic reason it reminded him of having his cock in Mina’s hot mouth, the way she’d swallowed him down, watching him like an obedient slave.
But she hadn’t been an obedient slave, had she? She’d stolen the crystal ring and Venusian talisman from his pocket and used them to escape. Which made her fifty times more enticing. The beauty was as smart and capable as she was skilled and seductive.
Even if the galaxy had a million other Zandian females, he doubted he’d ever find one more captivating than Mina.
Ignoring his cock, which now ached thanks to his thoughts of Mina, he stepped out of the washtube and dressed in clean white palace finery. He couldn’t avoid seeing Zander and Seke forever.
With any luck, the weekly meal would be about to start, and there wouldn’t be time to report. He walked into the great room, only to find the chatter louder than usual. Beings stood, making the transition between Zander holding court and gathering at the enormously long dining table, set with the weekly feast their chef, Barr, prepared.
So bent on preparing himself for what to say to Zander, Erick didn’t realize the cause of so much animated conversation until Tomis stepped to the side, revealing…
No. It couldn’t be. Had Talia bleached her hair?
But Talia stood next to Tomis, which meant…
As if she felt his stare, Mina lifted her beautiful eyes at the same moment he went stock still, arrested in the entryway to the Great Room.
“Erick,” Seke said, observing the direction of her gaze. His barrel chest appeared wider than ever. “Come and meet my firstborn, Tara. She found her way here yesterday, all on her own. Both daughters returned in the same week, can you believe it?” The baffled wonder in the scarred warrior’s face made Erick’s chest tighten.
Keep walking, idiot. Or at least say something.
But he literally couldn’t make his body move or his tongue speak.
Seke, normally as sharp and attentive as they come, didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just thought Erick was ogling. “Tara, this is Master Erick, Prince Zander’s business and trade advisor.”
Mina lowered her blue-violet eyes—so much like her father’s—and dropped into a demure curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Master Erick.”
Veck, he loved hearing his name on her tongue. He’d been sorry he hadn’t given it to her before. But what is her game?
His breath scraped into his chest. He stepped forward on wooden legs and bent his arm at a ninety degree angle in the traditional Zandian greeting. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Tara.”
“Tara escaped from Aurelia where she was a house-slave.”
A house-slave. Not a sex slave, or sex pet. Pain lanced his chest. Not for himself, but for Mina—or Tara—whatever she preferred to be called here. She didn’t want others knowing how degraded she’d been, so she’d lied. He couldn’t blame her. How would a young female tell her father she’d been defiled in every way imaginable? It would destroy a male like Seke, who would want to find every male who’d touched her and make him pay with his life.
Hell, it made him want to do the same. At the very least, he should go back to Prium’s and bash the pimp’s pearly white teeth in. He should have done it when he was there.
“It’s illegal to keep Zandians as slaves. Aurelians should know that.” Somehow, he provided the smooth, educated commentary expected of him with Mina just a few steps away. Her intoxicating scent drifted to where he stood, reminding him of how it felt to bury his nose in her hair. To speak with his lips right up to her ear. Which made him recall all the dirty things he’d done to her. All the things he still wanted to do.
All the things her father would kill him for doing.
“Yes and I’d ask you to file an intergalactic complaint but her sole owner died a few lunar cycles ago, which is how she got away.”
Don’t look at her. Don’t.
He couldn’t because, if he did, he might show every thought splattering his brain. “I will still file it. It’s important we put the Aurelians on notice that Prince Zander will take every action for any abuse of his species.”
Stars, what a vecking hypocrite. What action had he taken on behalf of his species? The veck her hard over a bench one? Or the use her mouth as a veck-hole?
Prince Zander waved a hand to invite the milling group to sit at the banquet table.
His instinct told him to place himself as far away from Mina as he could. But when a swarm of males crowded in, every eye bright and eager to catch hers, he changed his mind. He’d be damned if he’d let any of them move in on his female.
Fortunately, his status as trusted advisor allowed him to sit near Master Seke and, therefore, his delectable daughter. He took a seat across from her. Next to her would be too close. He wouldn’t be able to trust himself if her scent was up in his nostrils, her soft body within grabbing distance.
Thankfully, Seke took the seat next to her, and her sister, Talia, took the one on her other side.
~.~
Erick.
That was her Zandian’s name. Master Erick. The prince held him in esteem. That knowledge shouldn’t send little wings of excitement flapping in her chest, but it did. She’d known he was a worthy male, even though he’d turned part beast in the cell with her.
She’d never dreamed he’d be here, but then, she hadn’t realized almost every Zandian still alive either lived on Prince Zander’s pod or visited it weekly for the crystal baths. She’d been treated to one when she’d arrived the previous planet rotation, and now felt like a completely different being.
But she felt like a different being in many ways. Like a being she didn’t even recognize.
Her sister, Talia, reached under the table and gripped her hand. “It’s hard to re-integrate, I know,” she murmured.
Relief poured through her as she squeezed her sister’s hand gratefully. It was almost easier that Talia hardly remembered her. Her younger sister had either lost her memory when their ship crashed during their escape, or had blocked out her past as a protective mechanism. Either way, she had only rediscovered their father and fellow Zandians three planet rotations ago. Even speaking Zandian sometimes challenged her.
Talia was right. After planning her escape for fifteen years, Mina found her new freedom almost more difficult than slavery. She didn’t know how to be a presentable member of Zandian society. She acted a part without a script. The only being who knew what she’d been before her arrival was Erick.
And, for some reason, that bonded her to him even more.
She hadn’t told her father she’d been used as a sex pet—it would’ve killed him. Instead, she’d made up the story about being a house-slave to Durhock.
She’d been afraid Erick would out her, but he hadn’t. Of course, he probably wasn’t in a hurry to tell her father what he’d done with her at Prium’s. He’d followed her lead, and pretended they hadn’t met, after a quick recovery from his obvious initial shock of seeing her
. His gape had gone unnoticed, since nearly everyone on the pod had reacted the same way. It turned out, there were only three Zandian females alive. At least females of mating age. Her sister, Talia, who already had a mate, and Eslyn, a quasi-prisoner who was being punished by Prince Zander for helping to kidnap Talia.
Her punishment had just been announced by Zander before dinner. He’d assigned her to be reconditioned into Zandian society by three of his warriors. They’d escorted her out, the dark promise of punishment burning in their expressions.
Mina had found the idea of the conditioning arousing—especially considering it would come from not one male, but three—but hadn’t been able to imagine any male touching her except Erick.
She’d wondered—had it just been because he was Zandian that he’d aroused such a passion in her? But despite the constant deluge of eager attention she’d received from nearly every male in the palatial pod since her arrival, she’d only been able to think of him.
And now, here he was, sitting across from her, radiating tension and hunger and something else. Anger?
While one part of her brain reasoned he had no cause to be angry with her, the other sped off imagining how he might condition her. Would he shove her to her knees and feed her his cock again? Or bend her over and whip her ass before fucking it roughly?
She squeezed her thighs together, arousal building in her core. It was wrong to think of being used that way. She wasn’t a pet anymore.
She stole a glance at Erick.
He paused, mid-bite, his eyes locking onto hers. A frown marred his features, but there was no mistaking the tilt of his horns in her direction. Whatever was running through his mind, he wanted her.
He and most of the males in the room. Which was nothing new for her. The new was being in a position to accept or refuse their advances. Hell, she was in the position to look around the palatial pod and choose for herself. Pluck out a partner for pleasure, if she desired.
And, strangely, she did desire. Erick had awoken a side of herself she hadn’t known existed. Maybe it was breeding season, maybe the crystal bath she’d had, but her body thrummed with an overwhelming need, an ache only one male could slake.