His Human Slave (Zandian Masters 1)

Was he jealous about other males looking at her? The thought shouldn’t please her half as much as it did.

“It’s a little hard to do with my wrists bound.”

His lips tightened.

“Master,” she added.

He stood up and walked over, towering over her as he gazed down with a speculative look. “You continue to sass me.”

She caught her breath at his glower. Her pussy leaked moisture. Why did his dominance excite her traitorous body?

“I’m sorry.” She truly was. She didn’t want to start the day off with punishment, not when her dreams had been filled with scenes of the Zandian tracing his fingertips across her breasts and stroking her torso with his horns as if it gave him some kind erotic pleasure.

He shook his head. “I can’t believe anything you say, little human. Your deceit is the only constant.”

She didn’t know how to answer, so she kept still, making her posture and expression subservient, hoping he’d release her wrists so she could use the washroom again.

“Release cuffs.”

Blood rushed to her hands and arms. She winced, shaking them out.

Zander still stood above her, staring down. His eyes shone more purple than before, and his hungry expression sent a zing of electricity shooting up her inner thighs, straight to her pussy. She shivered.

His lips twitched and he leaned down and grasped her hips roughly, flipping her over to her belly. She squeezed her eyes closed, thinking he meant to punish her, but he only stroked his large palm over her buttocks.

“Minimal marks. Your buttocks do, indeed, make a good target for punishment.”

“How is your thumb?” She didn’t dare show her face when she spoke, and it came out in such a tiny voice she thought he didn’t hear.

“It’s healed.” He flipped her back over and held his palm up. “Zandians repair quickly, unlike humans.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “May I please use the washroom?”

He stood back. “Go.”

And, he dismissed her, turning his back and returning to his work.

She climbed out of bed and jogged to the washroom. It took her a moment to figure out how to illuminate the room and how to shut the door. She used the commode and washed her hands in the sink of polished gray gemstone. The liquid soap smelled of exotic complex spices, earthy and vaguely sweet. She recognized it as part of what made Zander smell so sinful. In the corner stood a cylinder of the same gemstone. Was that where he took the light baths? Remembering the vision she’d had of herself enjoying it, she traced her fingertips along the opening, searching for a spring to open it. Finding the latch, she triggered it, jumping back and gasping when the door lifted vertically rather than in.

Inside shone the same as the outside, a smooth polished stone cylinder.

“You may wash, if you like,” Zander called from the other room.

Wash. Was this for washing? She stepped inside and examined the small enclosure. The door slid shut and suddenly water shot out from nozzles all around her.

She yelped. The temperature was warm but the spray hit hard. After she grew accustomed to it, she enjoyed it, but the entire tube filled up fast. Water had reached her waist already, then her chest. She spun in a circle, looking for an off switch. She saw nothing of the kind. Liquid rose to her chin.

“Um...Zander?” Panic pitched her voice higher than usual.

She couldn’t hear over the spray of water whether he answered or not.

Oh galaxies, oh suns, oh veck, veck, veck. The level reached her nose. She tipped her head back to lift her mouth out of the water and screamed, “Help!”

Water filled the entire cylinder. She held her breath as it rushed in swirls around her, like a mini hurricane. Just when she thought she might die from holding her breath, it began to drain. The tube emptied as quickly as it had filled. She gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs. The door slid open to reveal Zander leaning against the doorframe, amusement playing on his face. And veeeeck. The sight of his muscled bare chest sent fresh spirals of arousal straight to her core. Or maybe it was his heavy-lidded gaze.

“Have you never washed in a quick-wash tube before?”

She shook her head, sending droplets flying from the ends of her hair. “No...master.”