His Human Vessel: An Alien Warrior Romance (Zandian Masters Book 5)

by Renee Rose

  He nodded, the tension in him mounting. His fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles cracked.

  “No.” She lifted her chin and shook her head.

  His heart stopped. “No?” The crack in his voice matched the fissure in his chest, growing wider and wider by the second. “You choose to leave?”

  “If I stay, I wear your collar. Sleep in your room. I will not suffer the humiliation of your ownership without the reward.”

  Reward? The room swayed under his feet. He closed his eyes, drawing a long, slow breath in through his nostrils to clear his head.

  She was staying. With him. She wanted him to be her master. As her reward.

  It hardly made sense to him, and yet he’d never experienced such a sense of victory in his life.

  “Come here,” he said gruffly when he opened his eyes.

  ~.~

  Bayla observed Daneth’s tension, and his relief. She knew it was about his experiment, not her, but she still enjoyed the fierce satisfaction that lit his expression as she approached.

  He caught her face in both his large hands and his lips crashed down on hers, tearing at her mouth. He nipped her lips, sucked them, dragged his mouth across them. He thrust his tongue between them, all the while holding her prisoner for the kiss.

  Not that she wanted to escape. Her surprise at the passion she’d evoked in him pierced her with satisfaction. Her cool, reserved doctor had crumbled. She may belong to him, but he belonged to her, too. A victory she’d aimed to win from the start.

  “Take your clothes off,” he said roughly.

  Was he going to claim her? To breed her? She found the idea far more appealing than his intended protocol. If she had his baby, perhaps it wouldn’t be taken from her. Perhaps he’d keep her as his slave, and she’d tend to their child. The idea set off rockets of desire so strong, she could scarcely contain herself.

  So she didn’t. She stripped off her clothing and dropped to her knees, pressing her mouth against his crotch.

  “Vecking stars, Bayla,” he growled and shoved his pants down, allowing his full erection to spring free.

  She licked around the head then took him deep, keeping her eyes lifted for his command. Her pussy clenched between her thighs, nipples hardened to stiff peaks.

  He met her gaze, and his nostrils flared. He grasped the back of her head and shoved deep, causing her to choke and her eyes to water. Daneth didn’t have mercy, though. He seemed to lose control, thrusting with the erratic force of a male about to climax.

  She hollowed her cheeks and sucked until he came, burning the back of her throat with the salty tang of his essence. His thighs shook with the intensity of his release and the kick of power it gave her. Knowing she’d caused this loss of control in him, thrilled her.

  He pulled out of her mouth and stared down at her, as if dazed at what they’d done.

  “Master,” she whispered.

  “You chose me.”

  She thought she heard awe in his voice, but before she could dissect it, he had her up from the floor and on her back on his sleepdisk. He gripped her knees and drew her thighs apart, affixing his mouth to her core.

  Five mind-blowing minutes later, she came all over his thrusting fingers, her clit suctioned tight in his mouth.

  An hour later, after she’d come six more times from his talented fingers, she wept, certain she couldn’t handle any more. “Please, Master. No more. I’m so tired.”

  He towered over her, smug satisfaction oozing from him. “Don’t forget, you chose to be owned by me.” He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I decide when you rest and when you deserve pleasure.”

  She shook her head, her hair already rubbed into a tangle from the friction against the mattress. “No more pleasure,” she whispered. “Please...rest.”

  He smiled indulgently. “Yes, rest now, slave. Tomorrow is your implantation.”

  A heaviness fell over her at the reminder.

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her to her cage, placing her inside with care.

  “What must I do tomorrow?”

  He wrapped a large palm around her ankle and squeezed. “It’s a simple and painless procedure. You must lie still and rest afterward to make sure it attaches. That is all.”

  “And then...grow a baby? Or young? What do Zandians call it?”

  “Young. Yes.”

  “And who will care for the young?”

  He patted her ankle. “Don’t concern yourself with that. Your job is simply to carry the pregnancy.”

  Her vision dimmed, and cold rolled slowly over her. As she’d feared. One more baby she would never nurse. Never love.

  She needed to make sure the pregnancy never took.

  Chapter Four

  Daneth reviewed the protocol for artificial insemination again. He’d already followed every study and report out there on in vitro fertilization and implantation in humans and every other species remotely similar. Unfortunately, there was nothing on Zandians. His species had never used such methods for conception. They had a breeding season, which he’d nearly missed, but he didn’t think it mattered so much in this case. He wasn’t using any live Zandians for the protocol.

  He had only a few viable Zandian eggs. They had come from Zander’s mother, the queen, herself. He still thanked the stars he’d suggested harvesting them from her. She’d had a rough pregnancy with Zander and swore she didn’t want a second child. He’d recommended she cryofreeze some while she was still young, in case she either changed her mind or wanted to find a surrogate for a future pregnancy. She had agreed.

  When the palace was bombed by the Finn, he’d had the presence of mind to collect some of his medical supplies, and he’d taken the vial of eggs, along with several prize crystals so they might survive away from their planet. He’d instructed others who got out to take as many crystals as they could.

  Zandian crystal—the reason the Finn took over their planet—was used in many technologies and therefore worth a fortune. Zandians prized it for far more than its open market value, however. They used it for light amplification to nourish their bodies. Without it, his species would be severely weakened, perhaps even die.

  He snapped on a pair of gloves and picked up the slender instrument he would use to implant the tiny embryo he had cultured in the lab four planet rotations prior. He’d collected the semen of all the Zandians in the palatial pod under fifty solar cycles and run the donors in his gene-matching program for the queen. The program had chosen one of the guards, though he did not plan to tell the guard or any other being who the actual father was. He would only reveal that information to Prince Zander under orders. No need to complicate matters. Technically, the young would belong to him, as guardian of the Zandians species.

  He glanced over at his human, who hadn’t been nearly so agreeable as she had the previous planet rotation. She’d been peevish and quiet since she woke that morning. He suspected her delicate human emotions had her on edge over the procedure.

  He should have found a way to calm her, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own desire to get everything perfect. He didn’t have time for a slave’s anxieties.

  Except, now, as he looked at her pale face and pinched mouth, he wished he’d done more. Though the procedure would be painless, he wondered if he should sedate her.

  She squirmed against her restraints and appeared uncomfortable, though he scented her arousal. He wondered which part of the scenario aroused her—her nudity or being restrained and at his mercy. Perhaps both.

  He pulled her labia apart, indulging in the sight of her spread for him. “Open for your master.” He probed her entrance with the instrument. She tightened her anus and vaginal opening against his intrusion, but, of course, could do nothing to resist. Even so, he scolded her. “I said open.”

  Her belly quivered as she drew in a breath. “I don’t want to do this.”

  He stopped, surprised at what he suspected was total honesty. He’d expected her usual, “Yes,
Master,” which had been ingrained in her by her previous masters.

  He paused in the further insertion of the probe. “Why not?”

  She bit down on her plump lower lip and shook her head. “Never mind. I’m sorry, Master. I’m just nervous.”

  A lie.

  He knew without looking at her readouts on his cuff. “What don’t you like, Bayla?”

  She leaned her head back against the table and stared up at the ceiling, her gaze fixed and unblinking. “It’s fine, Master. I’m ready.”

  Later, he would wish he’d stopped and forced her to confess her concerns, but his mind was too full of his experiment. He flicked on the hologram that showed his progress inside her womb and found the ideal location to deposit the egg.

  He left it there and withdrew the probe, watching the tiny embryo, magnified by his viewer, settle along the lining of her uterus.

  He released her ankle cuffs and clipped them together, then to a chain that hung from the ceiling, to tilt her pelvis and hold everything in. “Comfortable?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Sullenness pervaded the monosyllable.

  He arched a brow. “Try that again.”

  “No, Master.” She sounded snide. “How long must I stay this way?”

  He didn’t want to spank her—not after things had shifted between them—but her petulance raised his hackles. The warmth he’d been feeling for her slipped away and he found himself returning to his old way of being. Impatient. Businesslike. Reserved. “Until I release you.” He moved away, removing his gloves and disposing of them then cleaning up the supplies he’d used for the protocol.

  Bayla was smart enough to stay quiet, though her discontent filled the room like a bad smell.

  All the ideas he’d had about babying her that planet rotation—carrying her to his sleepdisk and feeding her from his own fingers—faded. Which was fine. She’d become a distraction. He needed to be focused on his work. She played a part in that work, but that was all. Somehow he’d allowed her human wiles to activate something in him—something that sparked and sputtered and exploded with life. But that tremendous energy was dangerous. It made males lose their focus, lose their control. Zandians, in general, were quite even-keeled, and he’d been the least emotional of all.

  Science. Data. Medical studies. Those were the things that mattered to him.

  Still, something wedged in the door of his heart as he attempted to slam it shut.

  His female was unhappy. The itchy, achy need to fix the situation kept creeping back, no matter how many times he shoved it away.

  With a sigh, he released the clip on her ankles. “Release wrist cuffs.”

  She didn’t exactly glare at him, but there was a sullen set to her mouth as she regarded him warily. He scooped her up and carried her to his room. “Cage or my sleep disk?”

  Why, in the name of the true Zandian star, am I offering her a choice? She was his slave. His test subject.

  But his heart, his body, refused to acknowledge what his mind screamed.

  Must care for her.

  “Sleepdisk.” Her arms didn’t circle his neck. She didn’t lean her head against his shoulder.

  He set her on her back on the mattress and propped her ass up with a pillow. Then he flicked the loose end of the coverlet across her naked body. “Don’t move from this position until I tell you. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “You’re trying my patience this planet rotation, Bayla. I don’t know what has you out of sorts, but you’re this close to getting that pretty little bottom spanked.” He held his forefinger and thumb a small width apart to illustrate.

  Her jaw clenched, and she looked away from him. “Yes, Master,” she mumbled.

  Things still seemed unsettled, but he didn’t know how else to straighten them. His eager-to-please slave had fled, and now he realized her docility, her obedience—had he even imagined...affection?—had nothing to do with him. He wasn’t a better master than Zander had been. He remembered when the young prince had first taken Lamira and had called Daneth in exasperation and frustration with her disobedience. No, Daneth had simply been lucky that this particular female had been properly trained first. Trained by some other being. Why did that thought make his fingers clench into fists?

  Punishment was what he had recommended to Zander. Striking human females on their buttocks and thighs caused pain but did no physical harm. This manner of chastisement, especially with required nudity or with the insertion of plugs in the anus, humiliated the female, and thus helped her find submission to her master. Or so the research had shown. He hadn’t found punishing her unpleasant. In fact, he’d loved watching her rounded posterior turn pink and squirm under his hand. Knowing it aroused her had made it all the more pleasurable.

  But, for some reason, he hesitated to punish her now. Perhaps he had enjoyed her voluntary submission so well that forcing it on her seemed wrong.

  He shook his head to clear it. Zander’s decree she wasn’t actually a slave had him thinking too much. She as his to punish, regardless. She must show respect and obedience or suffer the consequences.

  He returned to his lab and watched the hologram of the implantation once more. What if it didn’t take?

  He’d only created one embryo for this protocol and had used two eggs. The other egg hadn’t proven viable. He only had one more left if this implantation didn’t take. If that one wasn’t healthy, the future of his species—at least for pure bred Zandians—would be hopeless.

  He returned to his chamber with two needles and vials of hormone cocktails for Bayla and found her still in position, but with her arms folded across her chest in subtle rebellion.

  ~.~

  She wanted to hate Daneth. Sometimes he made it easy, barking orders and acting like a typical high-handed master. Nothing she wasn’t used to, but somehow more irritating coming from a male who had also brought her to orgasm on numerous occasions.

  But, sometimes, he made it hard. Like when he’d brought her into his chamber to make her more comfortable. Obviously, he hadn’t had to do that. And she hadn’t been begging him. In fact, she’d been acting like a brat, and he still did it.

  What did that say about him? Did he like her as much as she sometimes imagined?

  He’d certainly seemed incredibly satisfied with her the previous planet rotation.

  But she didn’t want to soften toward him, especially because she was now hell-bent on ruining his implantation procedure. It would be easier to thwart his important endeavor if she thought of him as a heartless ass.

  “What is that?” she asked, eyeing the needles in his gloved hand.

  He sat on the sleep disk and hauled her body across his lap into spanking position. She heard the pop of a cap being removed.

  “What is that?” she repeated. Alarm bells were going off. She didn’t want to be shot up with medications, even though this, too, was nothing new for her. The intimacy of the position and his intended target were, however.

  She yelped as he jabbed a needle into her ass. “Ow.”

  “Almost finished.”

  A burning sensation pinched at the needle site and, worse, liquid cold seeped in deeper. “What is it?” she snapped again.

  Never in her life had she acted so inappropriately with a master—she certainly knew better, but something about Daneth’s cool, collected resolve brought out the fire in her. She wanted to kick and scream until he stopped ignoring her and answered her damn question.

  Apparently, it worked, because he fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head up. “What have I told you about speaking without being spoken to?”

  “You’re jabbing a needle in my ass. I would say you’re speaking to me, in a sense,” she shot back, wisdom apparently fleeing her, along with her mind and her temper.

  Another sharp jab bit her other cheek. Apparently he was perfectly capable of injecting her with only one hand. “Ow.”

>   He tugged her head back more. “It’s not your place to question me, Bayla.” He said it so calmly, she wanted to knee him in the balls.

  “Oh, really? Because it’s my body you’re injecting. Shouldn’t I know what’s going on?”

  “It’s not your body. You made a choice just one planet rotation ago, and you gave it to me, to science. This body belongs to me.” He slapped the back of her thigh and shifted her off his lap and onto her feet on the floor. “Now, you will walk to the cabinet over there and bring me the box of implements.”

  She stared at him. Not in disbelief, because she’d fully expected punishment. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit she’d goaded him. No, she couldn’t stand the lack of emotion, the lack of reaction from him. It drove her crazy.

  She should seduce him. Getting him turned on had been her entry point to getting a reaction out of him. But she wasn’t in the mood. If she were smart, she’d get moving before she earned herself more punishment. She trudged to the cabinet, retrieved the box in question, and watched him rooted through it.

  Her traitorous pussy moistened at the entire scenario—standing naked before him, knowing what he planned to do to her, waiting while he made his selection. He drew out a thin wooden paddle—more like a flat spatula.

  Just the sight of it made her contrite, already regretting her bad behavior. She dropped to her knees. “I’m sorry I was ill-behaved, Master.”

  He cupped her chin and lifted it, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The emptiness behind his eyes faded, and a trace of warmth returned. “That’s a pretty sight.” He studied her for another beat, and her body came alive under his appreciative gaze, nipples tightening, skin tingling. “You’re sorry you’re getting a spanking.”

  “Yes, Master,” she admitted.

  His lips twitched. “I have not instilled enough fear in you, have I?”

  Her pussy and belly both clenched as one part fear, one part excitement zoomed through her.