Her Mate and Master (Zandian Masters 6)

She must have drifted off to sleep because an unexpected sound startled her awake—the laughter of children.

Tomis froze in his tracks.

“I didn’t dream that?” she whispered.

He shook his head, creeping forward silently, head cocked in the direction of the little voices.

There—playing on the opposite side of the riverbank. Three children. Zandian children.

They wore little clothing, and the simple scraps they did wear seemed to be hand-constructed from animal hide.

Tomis eased her to the ground just as one of the female young caught sight of them and gasped. The other two—one male, one female—whipped their heads around to stare, as well. For a moment, no one moved. Then the children took off running, their bare feet sailing out behind them.

Tomis called out in the language he’d first used with her—what must be the Zandian tongue.

The male child threw a glance over his shoulder, but none of them stopped running.

“Come on,” Tomis urged, plunging into the water. They crossed the river and followed the children. She noticed Tomis didn’t run at his full speed. In fact, he more jogged along, keeping the children in sight but hanging back. He must have been concerned about frightening them.

The children cried out in their language.

“What are they saying?”

“They’re calling for help.” Tomis slowed to a walk, picking up her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. When he looked down at her, his eyes shone with excitement.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? The species lives on.”

He pulled their hands to his mouth and kissed the back of hers. “It’s a miracle.”

A moment later, their hands jerked apart, though, because three male Zandians appeared over a hill, all charging with weapons drawn.

Tomis stopped, shoving her behind him. He didn’t draw his laser gun, though it would have outpowered their hand weapons, which appeared to be nothing more than sharp blades shaped as a spear, an axe, and a sword. He spoke again in Zandian.

This time, something about the words sounded familiar, as if the part of her brain where her first language had been stored turned on and was warming up.

Peace. He’d said something about peace. Or friendship. He lifted his fist toward the sky, elbow bent at a 90 degree angle. It was a greeting of some sort, the same one that had tugged at her memory the first time he’d used it.

The males jogged forward, weapons still held in front them. They stopped about ten paces away, eyeing them warily.

Tomis spoke, and, this time, she understood most of it. “Be at peace. We are friends. I am Tomis, of Prince Zander’s royal guard. I came to rescue Talia from the capital.” He stepped to the side to reveal her. “We seek an airship to get off-planet.”

The tall but slender male sheathed his weapon and stepped forward. “I am Sankro. This is Elit and Banf.” He gave her an appreciative up-and-down sweep that set her teeth on edge. The other two males also eyed her.

Don’t even think about it, asshole.

Apparently breeding season didn’t make her turn to mush over every Zandian male. Only the dominant warrior beside her.

Tomis’ chest seemed to grow bigger, and he shifted back in front of her, as if to shield her from their view. She swore she heard a low growl from his throat.

But, veck that. He didn’t get to act possessive when he wasn’t even willing to claim her as his own. Wasn’t he the one in a big hurry to turn her over to another male? She stepped around Tomis’ huge frame and lifted her chin.

All three mal

es stepped closer, and she had to force herself not to flinch. No, her body definitely had a preference. It didn’t want to breed with any of the other males. Too bad her body it didn’t get the memo about Tomis not being interested in mating her.

“I’m Talia.” She attempted to speak in Zandian.

Tomis’ eyes rounded with wonder.