His Human Slave (Zandian Masters 1)

“Release her,” the warrior snapped. “How can she drink when she’s bound to a table on her back?”

The doctor’s lips twitched, as if amused by the warrior’s irritation, but the rings holding her ankle and her wrist cuffs snapped open.

The warrior walked to her side and held out a hand.

She ignored his hand and scrambled up to sit.

The warrior remained still, watching her. When she met his gaze, he inclined his head slightly in the ghost of a bow. “I am Seke.” He waited and, for a moment, she wondered if he thought she ought to know him, but then she realized he was waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Leora.”

He took the bag from the doctor and held it out to her. “It’s not poisoned. You should drink before you meet the prince. You look thirsty.”

She rubbed her cracked lips together. They were absolutely parched. She accepted the bag and drank, closing her eyes at the shock of the delicious taste. She meant to take only a sip or two, in case it was tainted, but her body overrode her mind, and she sucked on the tube, drinking deeply until half the bag had disappeared.

The warrior glowered at the doctor. “You kept her malnourished.”

Once more, the doctor’s lips twitched. “She cannot eat or drink when unconscious.”

“Do you require food?” The warrior turned back to her, his eyebrows knit.

“No...not yet. Thank you.”

Something about the warrior had disarmed her. He reminded her of Johan—pure masculinity and quiet strength. And her gut told her he could be trusted.

“Come.” He beckoned her off the table and grasped her shoulders.

A shock of heat raced through her body at his touch.

He rotated her slowly to face away from him then caught her wrists and pulled them behind her back. His touch was gentle, despite the obvious strength behind it.

The cuffs clicked together and he turned her back around. She stared up at him, studying his handsome features. A piece of her hair had caught on her chapped lips, and she tried to rub it off with her shoulder.

He reached out and brushed it away. She swore his skin had turned darker purple, his horns rougher. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, but then shut it again. Placing a hand at her lower back, he guided her forward. “Come, Leora. Our prince awaits.”

He sure as hell wasn’t her prince. But she kept her mouth shut. She needed to find Lamira—needed to know she was still alive and well.

The warrior—Seke—led her through beautiful corridors and into a giant domed room. A giant crystal was embedded in a skylight, and the light that came through was natural.

On a throne, of sorts, a young male sat. Also built of hard muscle, he had the beauty of youth. She lifted her chin and dared to look him in the face. She expected to see haughtiness there, but instead found only a haunted quality to his expression.

“Leora, chosen mate and partner of the human warrior Johan Jonas,” Seke said as an introduction.

She flinched to hear him speak Johan’s name. How did they know? Would they tell the Ocretions? If so, it meant her certain death.

“Daneth said to tell you she’s in good health.” She thought she heard disapproval in the warrior’s voice—as if he disapproved of her inspection. It warmed her.

The prince cocked his head, searching the warrior with a speculative gaze.

Leora lifted her eyes to glare at him and, to her surprise, he flinched.

“I see where your daughter gets her beauty.”

“Where is she? What are you doing with her?”

She expected him to ignore her questions the way the doctor had, but the prince spoke. “She is here. You will see her soon.”

The prince sat back and knit his fingers. “Leora...your daughter saved my life last week.”