Her Mate and Master (Zandian Masters 6)

Power to free his female.

~.~

She crumpled to the floor of her cell and brought her fingers between her thighs.

Stars, yes. Relief. She explored her folds with novice fingers, found the most sensitive place—the one that sent spirals of pleasure out through her body when she touched it—and rubbed.

She’d seen another Zandian. A male.

At least, she thought she had. One of the prisoners had been watching her. She’d never seen him before, and he’d pulled back, like he didn’t want her to see him. But his skin was the same color as hers. He also had horns on the top of his head. Did Zandian males have horns? She wished she knew more about her own species.

Thurn, her asshole master, had never even told her what species she was. He’d led her to believe she was human. She’d thought she just hadn’t seen a human yet with her skin color. Of course, believing she was human kept her firmly enslaved, hadn’t it? Humans weren’t free anywhere in the galaxy these days, particularly not in any Ocretion territory. She’d always thought running away would mean her certain death.

Well, turns out it had. She had a death sentence hanging over her head now for a different reason. King Fluut would have her executed if the Zandians didn’t trade their refugee prince for her by the end of the week. Pah. She wasn’t holding her breath for that to happen.

Her thoughts drifted back to the prisoner as she rubbed frantically at her swollen flesh. He’d been at least a foot taller than her and massive in size. Bulging muscles, strong jaw, sharp, intelligent eyes. He watched like he’d been expecting to see her, but she knew she hadn’t seen him before. She would’ve remembered.

What would it be like to be taken by a male like that? She had to believe his cock was in proportion to those spectacular muscles. Would it hurt? She stifled a groan. Nothing could hurt more than this ache between her legs right now. What in the hell was happening to her? It had to be the crystals.

Suddenly, the prison fell into complete darkness. For a moment, there was no sound—no whir, no hum of machinery, no buzz of lighting. Then shouts and clangs filled the air.

She scrambled to her feet just as the door to her cell scraped open. Not the automatic whoosh of the door, but the mechanical grind of a mechanism forced.

A hand closed on her forearm. “I got her! I found the female!” a gleeful male voice rang out.

“Shut up, asshole. Do you want to have to fight the rest of them for her?” Another male entered and tugged the cell door shut. “Where is she? I get her first.”

No.

She wrenched her arm in the first male’s grasp but only succeeded in twisting her own flesh. She kicked out with the heel of her foot and heard a grunt.

The noise around them grew louder. Guards shouted commands, prisoners whooped, laser shots lit up the corridor with temporary blasts.

One of the males backhanded her, and she fell to the floor but used the position to scamper between his legs, toward the cell door. It clanged open again and she heard the scrape of a boot but couldn’t see who’d entered.

He shouted something in a language she didn’t understand.

She grabbed his ankle and sent him sprawling into the other two men. The crack of fists against bone filled the cell, but she didn’t stay to see who came out a winner. Instead, she slipped out the cell door and into the corridor.

Big mistake. Prisoners choked the artery, fighting each other and the guards. Shots lit up the passage like flashes of lightening; bodies fell below her.

A male grabbed her and dragged her into a cell, then shoved her to her knees.

She rolled away and kicked in his direction, hoping she’d connect with his groin. She couldn’t see a damn thing in the darkness. It didn’t seem to do much damage because, the moment she stood, he had her by the waist again.

The flash of more laser fire illuminated a huge horned male in the doorway. He shouted something at her in a foreign language. A shiver of recognition went through her. The Zandian. He’d been the male who’d entered her cell and fought the other two. He wanted her for himself.

He shoved her back into the darkness and the slam of flesh on flesh was followed by a heavy drop to the floor. She wasn’t sure which male’s fingers closed around her wrist until the urgent words came from his throat again with the repetition of the word Talia.

Maybe she should be glad that her first sexual experience would be with a male of her own species. She had been fantasizing about exactly this a few short moments ago. But being raped in a prison cell wasn’t her idea of a good time, no matter how good-looking the male.

She whirled into him and brought her knee up. This time, judging by his grunt, she did connect with groin. It didn’t stop him though. He snaked an arm around her waist and slapped her ass, still speaking his melodic language.

She fought for freedom, managing to get a punch in somewhere on his head.

He caught both her wrists, pinned them to the wall and slapped her ass again. Her body responded as if this were foreplay, not assault, nipples tightening, blood rushing to the juncture between her thighs. Her bare ass tingled, coming alive to his slaps. “Do you not understand me, Talia?” He switched into Ocretion.

“No. And who’s Talia?” she panted. He stepped even closer to her, caging her against the wall with his larger frame, holding her prisoner. Would he take her like this? Up against the wall from behind?