Her Mate and Master (Zandian Masters 6)

She released his horns and glowered, pushing up on her forearms. “I’m not leaving here with you. And your inability to comprehend my reason seals my decision.”

He released her thighs and sat back, a chill creeping through his midsection. He rubbed the lump on his head from where she’d bashed him with the rock, willing his brain to work faster, to understand. Think, dumb-veck. He’d said something that had made her stiffen the night before.

“You don’t wish to save our species.” A cold numbness slithered down his neck, coating his chest and arms.

Her expression closed, and she rolled away, putting on his shirt and tossing him his trousers. Both were still damp from the river, but the beautiful Zandian star shone high in the sky, warming them.

“I don’t wish to become your breeder, no. Is that so hard to understand?” The steel in her voice gutted him.

He yanked on his pants. His sense of honor, of commitment to his prince and planet, warred with the tumult of emotion he felt for this slip of a female. Was it fair to ask her to lend the use of her body to save their entire species?

Maybe. Maybe not. But he hadn’t asked, had he? He’d told her. He rubbed his jaw, watching as she stalked off. “Wait.” He caught her in two long strides and swung her around to face him. “Let’s talk this out. I vecked up. I didn’t offer you a choice, and I’m sorry.”

The stiffness around her mouth fell away, revealing a layer of vulnerability that kicked him in the balls.

“Forgive me, Talia.”

Her big beautiful brown-violet eyes stared up into his, and he saw uncertainty wavering there.

He cupped her cheek, stroking her soft skin with his thumb. “Please?”

A flash of misery came and went, replaced by the stubborn lift of her chin. She put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to let me go?”

Veck.

Veckity veck veck veck.

“Talia—”

She yanked out of his grasp. “That’s what I thought.”

The sight of her retreating back clanged like an alarm through every molecule of his body. Don’t let her go. Never let her go.

“No, starshine. Wait. Please.” He jogged to catch up but didn’t touch her this time, simply matched her pace. Gave her the freedom she needed. “I won’t bring you in against your will. I give you my vow. A Zandian warrior never breaks his word.”

She stopped and faced him, and he lifted his arm in the traditional Zandian greeting, forearm bent, fist pointed to the sky. Her brows drew together in puzzlement, studying it as if it jogged some memory in her.

“Let me protect you. It’s what I was born to do.” He knew that now, without a shadow of a doubt. Fight for Zandia, yes. Win back the planet, of course. But his first priority would always be to keep this female safe. Provide for her. Keep her.

No, not keep her. She wasn’t his to keep. She wasn’t even Prince Zander’s to keep, now that he’d given her his vow.

Guilt twisted in his solar plexus, but he shoved it back down. Giving

his promise had been worth it. Winning Talia’s trust was paramount. He could convince her to help her species later. After he secured her safety.

“You won’t give me to your prince?”

He wanted to explain that Zander wasn’t to be feared, that he’d protect and honor her, but that conversation could happen later. He shook his head. “Not unless you wish it. On my honor. Allow me to keep you safe. Please, Talia.”

She gave a wobbly nod. “Yes.”

Veck if he didn’t want that hope-sprinkled yes to answer a different question. But it wasn’t one he could ask. Even so, relief poured over him, warming his inner chill, and he grasped her hand. “Come. I believe we’re close to a special place.”

“How do you know your way, here? You can’t remember from your childhood.”

“No. Part of my training was memorizing maps and learning the terrain—the flora and fauna.”

“So what was that—that terrible thing that grabbed me back there?”