His Human Slave (Zandian Masters 1)

He spun the cage back so she faced him once more. “Open cage,” he commanded, and the voice-activated lock clicked. To her, he said, “Come out.”

She didn’t move.

His tone went sharp. “Do not anger me a second time, Lamira.”

Well, apparently he’d already cowed her completely because his words went straight to her chest, creating a sudden tightening and sending her instantly into motion. She hated how easily he’d mastered her. One stupid spanking and she rushed to please him.

She sniffed back the tears and attempted to push up to her hands and knees—no easy feat with her wrists and ankles bound.

“Release wrist cuffs. Release ankle cuffs,” he commanded. They sprang apart but not off.

She backed out of the cage, toward the door, not sure how she would get out until his large hands grasped her waist and lifted her easily to the floor.

Where to look... Certainly not at the prince—her master—although his presence was more than commanding. He stood almost seven feet tall with thick, corded muscles across his chest and arms.

Moisture gathered between her legs.

He looked more warrior than prince. No, he was all king. A warrior king. Earlier, she’d stared at him boldly. Now she kept her eyes lowered, trained at his bare feet. They were no different from hers, except larger and with the brown-purple skin tone of the Zandians. She glanced a

t her own toes. They were cleaner than they’d ever been before. Even her toenails had been buffed to a glossy shine. How long had she been out?

The prince cupped her chin and lifted her face. His touch was gentler than she expected. She still couldn’t meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare at his thick neck and the part of his bare chest visible beneath his loose, finely woven white shirt. Her fingers itched to touch his skin, to find out if it was as smooth as it appeared. What a strange idea. She’d never thought about touching a male in her life. In fact, she’d avoided males as best she could. This one had her completely discombobulated.

Was his chest hairless? Did he have hair anywhere other than his head? Zander, Daneth, and the guards she’d seen outside all wore their hair shorn close to their skulls. Perhaps their horns got too hot otherwise.

When she’d first seen Daneth, she’d thought the horns ugly, but Zander’s suited him, somehow making him even more handsome.

He leaned forward and opened his mouth. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held her fast, his gleaming teeth aimed straight for her cheek. For a moment, she thought he planned to bite her face, but his tongue flicked out, and he licked one of her tears. She caught his scent, a clean, masculine aroma with a slightly exotic spice.

Her nipples tightened; her pussy pulsed. No—she definitely was not thinking about licking him back to see how he tasted.

He made a sound, almost as if he found the taste of her tears pleasant. “Why are you crying?”

She tried once more to pull away. Not succeeding, she averted her gaze. “I’m not.”

Zander switched his hand from her chin to her nape and yanked her up to her tiptoes, until her nose came within inches of his bent head. “Why do you lie?” he snapped. “I can see your tears with my own eyes.”

Her eyes filled and spilled again, her lips trembled. She hated crying like this. She shouldn’t act so weak. Her father was a revered revolutionary. She and her mother passed messages for the insurgents along a secret human network. But, now—naked, bottom still pulsing with heat, face inches from his, she’d lost all dignity.

She lifted her bound wrists and rubbed them across her eyes. “It’s what I wish were true.”

He cocked his head. “You wish you were not crying?”

“Right.”

“Can you not stop?”

She blew air through her lips. “I thought you were supposed to be the superior species here. Is it so hard to understand?” She immediately wished she hadn’t spoken, because his face hardened and his fingers tightened on her neck.

“You will speak with respect.” His tone sliced through the air, ice-cold.

She flinched. For once, she swallowed back her pride and said the right thing. “Forgive me.”

He blinked as if he was considering whether to believe her. His grip on her nape eased, and he lowered her to her feet. Snapping his fingers, he pointed at the floor. “Kneel at my feet. I work here in my chamber. When I am here, that is the position you will assume.”

Everything about her rebelled at the dictate, but she managed to keep her mouth shut and hide her reaction. She dropped to the floor to assume the required pose. The cuffs on her ankles dug into the already raw flesh of her bottom. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since the morning she left the agrifarm. She didn’t know how long ago that was—how long she’d been unconscious—but her stomach said it had been a long time.

Prince Zander settled in a hover chair beside her and opened a hologram. She watched as he scrolled through numbers and opened messages. A light flashed in the upper right quadrant of the projection. “Connect Daneth.”