Her Mate and Master (Zandian Masters 6)

Heat flushed through her body and damn if her muscles didn’t go weak, as if they’d already decided surrender was inevitable. Her knees trembled, breath sawed in roughly.

“You don’t remember how to speak Zandian?” He released her.

She took the opportunity to dart for the door, but the warrior—there was no doubt in her mind that’s what he was—moved too quickly. He caught her elbow and hauled her back.

She swung for his face again, but her fist only caught air.

“Stop fighting me,” he growled. Two more sharp slaps fell on her bare ass.

How did he see in the dark? When she continued to fight, he wrapped an arm tight around her waist and hauled her off her feet, her back against his front. She clawed at the massive forearm cinching her belly.

“I’m here to rescue you, female.” His hot breath puffed over her ear. He strode forward, out of the cell and shoved his way down the corridor with her kicking the whole way. “Every minute you fight me is time we could use escaping.” Lights flashed, and he ducked under a fist flying his way. “The generators will come on any moment. Now, will you do as I say and walk on your own feet?”

“Yes,” she agreed, mainly because she couldn’t breathe with him squeezing her diaphragm.

He dropped her to the ground, smacking her ass again, presumably to keep her moving. She shot a glare over her shoulder even as her pussy dripped from the attention he kept giving her nether regions.

Laser light lit up the opposite end of the corridor, illuminating the enormous warrior. The warrior’s gaze burned with fierce intensity, swallowing her and the path in front of them. His nostrils flaring, he swung his fist in her direction. She screamed as it slammed into someone just behind her. She blinked, her retinas imprinted with the vision of the warrior’s magnificent arm used as a lethal weapon. So strong and capable.

“Here.” He pressed something soft into her hand. A piece of fabric. “Put this on.”

Her fingers untangled it as they ran. His shirt. He must have taken it off for her to wear. She yanked it over her head, arms fighting for passage through the holes as his scent washed over her, masculine and clean. Like leather and wood and soap.

They reached a T in the corridor, and he shoved her to the left. She sure as hell hoped he knew where he was going.

“Every being face down on the floor!” a Finnian guard shouted just ahead of them, scattering laser fire everywhere.

The warrior shoved her down behind him and lunged at the guard. She heard the thud of a body hitting the floor and the clatter of a weapon. In the next flash of light, she saw the Zandian had the weapon. “Come on,” he urged, helping her to her feet. He closed his large hand around hers and dragged her down the hall. At the end of it, they reached a set of stairs. Instead of going up, the warrior pulled her behind them. It sounded like his hands were running over the wall, as he whispered something in his language.

It was a beautiful language. She wished she understood it.

A click sounded, and the wall rolled away with a rumble. Behind it, damp air greeted her, along with more darkness.

The warrior gripped her hand again and pulled her down stone steps. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” he demanded. The wall rolled closed behind them.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t see in the dark.”

“You can?” That explained how he moved so fast in the pitch black. “Ow!” She stubbed her big toe on a rock.

The warrior emitted a low curse and scooped her up into his arms. His scent hit her like a blast of heat, warm and inviting. It was all she could do not to nuzzle her nose against his thick neck.

“What w

as the name you called me?”

“Talia. You’re Talia, daughter of Seke, master of arms to the Prince of Zander.”

Something slithery and cold twisted in her solar plexus. An unnamed discomfort. “No. No, I’m not.”

~.~

The pleasure of carrying Talia exploded beyond all expectation. Feeling her small form tucked up against him, her bare legs smooth and soft against his forearm, invoked the fierce protector within him. The same piece of him that had roared to life the moment he saw her in captivity. But that was nothing compared to the hunger that simmered below all heroics. Forgetting the feel of her ass under his palm or that she was bare beneath his shirt was an impossibility.

He wanted to lower her to the floor and explore every inch of that soft flesh with his hands. With his tongue. His teeth. And veck, yes, with his cock. But that wouldn’t be happening. Talia was Master Seke’s daughter, not to mention the only Zandian female of breeding age alive. A common-born warrior like him wouldn’t be worthy of mating her. And to claim her without intending to mate her would be dishonorable at best, and a violation of Prince Zander and Master Seke’s trust at worst.

“You’re not Talia?”